Isherwood

I don't like contemporary French humor. These conversational comedies just don't do it for me. I love to watch Louis de Funes films, but this one is just beyond me. On TV they repeated several times how excellent the film was, how many César Awards it won (4), and that it was even nominated for an Oscar. I can't help but not like this film one bit. I acknowledge that the script is original, but unfortunately, the originality comes at the cost of dreadful boredom, which goes hand in hand with it. It's unbelievable, but it's true. At times I was looking at my watch rather than at the film. Yes, you can feel the director's passion for the film, but this approach seems to satisfy her more than the audience. To be honest, I'm not disappointed with the film because I didn't expect anything from it and this style of comedy doesn't suit me either. It's actually like I never even saw the film.

What feeling prevailed in me after the film was over, you ask? Anger! It was infuriating that director Walter Hill wasted very promising material. Surely the screenwriters must have concocted the story out of thin air, as its originality was nowhere to be found. For such a disappointingly short film (an hour and a half) to have only two boxing matches (not counting the awkward attempts at originality with retro flashbacks of famous boxers) is quite telling. The film is actually about nothing. The director tells it in a disinterested way, without emotion, without feeling, and above all in a terribly boring way. And yet the theme promised so much... Ving Rhames extremely overacts, his tough guy act is way over the top, while Wesley Snipes, on the other hand, is his perfect opposite, and Peter Falk comes across as slightly comical but likable. Undisputed is a boring mishmash that won't please anyone. Boxing fans will be disappointed with the small number of fights and movie fans will cry over the shoddy filmmaking.

An elegant and cultivated story about the relationship between an aging university professor and a young performer with three different professions was sent by director Robert Benton into the morass of boredom, and as more minutes passed by, the deeper it sank. The director's cold and detached approach to the film is, in my opinion, due to his emphasis on visual stylization, but the emotional charge is lacking almost everywhere. The sexual scenes, although shot very elegantly and decently, lack any emotion or spark, and the idea of seeing a naked Anthony Hopkins does not arouse any curiosity and is thus hardly worth mentioning. I find it almost an insult that such a flimsily constructed film would feature excellent acting performances. Yet all of them are indeed excellent. I'd like to make just a few comments about the actors. Ed Harris is a phenomenal actor, and in the overall context of the film, he managed to captivate all attention with his performance in just under ten minutes. Even a few minutes after he was off the screen, thoughts of him were still pulsing in my mind. Gary Sinise was definitely the most surprising. Nicole Kidman still looks good in her semi-nude scenes, but her "wavering" and lying in bed with Hopkins became less enjoyable for me after a while. I consider Rachel Portman's music to be a significant failure, as the initially sympathetic piano tones become unpleasantly intrusive towards the end, exacerbating the most negative views of the film. Though the film lasted one hour and three-quarters, it felt to me as if it lasted at least two and a half hours. When I put it all together and think about it, all I can think is that this is probably not a good thing.

Paul Greengrass skillfully dismantles the idyllic ending that many criticized in the first installment, and he adds another genre label to the film – a revenge movie, along with its spy thriller elements. One cannot speak of pigeonholing when it comes to the form of this film, as it is a daring experiment in its own right, something that many established directors can only dream of achieving. Greengrass doesn't just use "handheld" cameras in action scenes, but he completely discards the use of a tripod. Thanks to his meticulous editing work, the storytelling takes on a completely different dimension compared to the first film. The gritty look of the entire film perfectly corresponds to the moods of the main protagonist, who fulfills his own tasks without a hint of emotion, tasks that his former employers, now his pursuers, are unable to comprehend. Where else can you see a positive hero beating an "innocent" girl against a wall and demanding a confession from her? Where else can the hero use a magazine to destroy not only the enemy but the entire house? The original filmmaker's experiment, which paid off multiple times for the producers, deserves one thing: To conclude the trilogy in spectacular style.

What did I think right after it was over, you ask? That I've seen many thrillers like this. Throughout the entire film, it pretends to be something that hasn't been seen before, but after reading the previews in the newspapers, I knew what style the film would follow. The film follows a precisely planned line both in terms of the screenplay and direction, and there is not even a momentary hint that it should deviate even slightly from this path. That is very unfortunate because kidnapping is fairly compelling and not a subject seen often in films. Russell Crowe delivers his standard. His character of Terry, the negotiator, is sympathetic from the beginning, but at times also a bit boring. Even Meg Ryan's sweet smile soon gets on my nerves. Sure, it looks good, but I'm willing to accept that in romantic comedies, but not in a thriller. Although to be honest, it's not exactly a thrilling masterpiece with its rather conventional treatment. That's a shame, and lately, I've been frustrated by a certain thing in movies, namely the wasted potential of the subject matter. That is exactly the group to which Proof of Life belongs. Moreover, I have a feeling that this trend of wasted potential will keep growing.

If I didn't know anything about the movie before watching it, I probably wouldn't have thought of any connection to The Matrix. But I did know something. Both films are based on a similar idea of a double world (I’d say more about it, but I don't want to spoil too much), which the protagonists explore. To get a story into the film, something inevitably has to go wrong, and then the director gets the space to play with the audience. It’s either a case of surprising the audience with an action avalanche or settling it with a clever and dense point. Unfortunately, The Thirteenth Floor lacks both. Well, unless we consider the revelation around two-thirds of the way through the film the point. The action, which some people might miss, would be absolutely meaningless here. Director Josef Rusnak sets the pace from the beginning, telling the story at a civilian tempo and initiating the film as a detective's search for possible reasons why the police are taking an increased interest in him. Craig Bierko is a completely unknown actor to me who really came through. He has charisma and you can see that he is comfortable in the role throughout the film. Harald Kloser's music is a very strong component, and sometimes in suspenseful scenes, it makes up for what the director can't handle. The Thirteenth Floor is a highly civilian sci-fi film that also takes place one-third in the 1930s, so don't expect action-packed sequences like in The Matrix but rather an intelligently conceived detective story where you need to leave minimal space for your brain, as you might figure everything out too soon and start getting bored. And I wouldn't wish that on you.

When I saw Raimi's gory horror Evil Dead, I asked myself how the same man could have made Spider-Man. While watching Darkman, it finally dawned on me. I'd say Darkman is kind of a bridge between Raimi's zombie and comic book era. That's not to say that's true, but it seemed that way to me. I’ve heard people saying that Liam Neeson does not fit at all into the role of a disfigured hero seeking revenge for his mutilated body. Personally, I would say that's not true. That’s because not every hero has to be a muscular tough guy who delivers hard blows. Peyton is a smooth, likable guy. That is, until they burn his face off. The script is somewhat naive, but it has occasional gritty twists. Like the guy lying dead on a car, and a somewhat similar guy sitting next to him on a bench. If I were in the shoes of the woman who saw it, I don't think I'd understand either... :-) But Raimi can patch up even the worst script with his impeccable direction. Together with cinematographer Bill Pope, he makes action films of a really high standard that are still impressive fourteen years later. And when the action is complemented by Danny Elfman's music, there's really nothing more to discuss. I confess that if I didn't know that Sam Raimi directed the film, I probably wouldn't have watched it. And after watching it, I would have given it a below-average rating. But it's a Sam Raimi movie. And "Sam Raimi" is a concept that must be respected.

Why? Why does Steven Seagal feel the need to make films like this? Why doesn't he stop and why does he continue making such films even after receiving criticism from both critics and audiences? Maybe he is as stubborn as his heroes and believes that films with an ecological message must be made even if no one is going to watch them. I might regret for a long time the moment when I opened the TV guide late in the evening and found out that this film was starting on TV. I will long regret turning on the TV and starting to watch it, knowing that the film is two hours long. I was even more surprised when the film ended so quickly. I watched it fairly diligently, and even though I took a fifteen-minute break, when I returned to my seat, I realized that nothing interesting had happened at all. I correctly predicted about 95% of the plot about 2/3 of the way through. Even though the film is an absolute mess from a screenwriting perspective, I realized that from a technical standpoint, it's not as bad as it may seem. The director works like a skilled bricklayer and the pace is surprisingly fast. I did mention the two hours that passed quickly. Nick Glennie-Smith's music is a somewhat contradictory affair, as there are occasionally unsympathetically awkward motifs, but otherwise, it works. Steven Seagal can't act, but he can still kick and punch just like he does in his better films. So why didn't I like it? Because even the best execution cannot cover up the terribly naive screenplay.

There are plenty of romantic comedies that entertain but are forgotten after a while. The Guru is a slightly different case. It stands out for its incredibly original execution. The story of an Indian man conquering America and porn actresses is indeed brilliantly executed. Directorially, musically, and especially choreographically. The script captivates not only with the filming of a porn movie but also with the perfect characters of Ramu and Sharon. Their behavior is firmly framed by romantic barriers, but the perfect acting of Heather Graham and Jimi Mistry elevates it just a little bit higher. Thanks to them, their characters are not lifeless puppets but people who live their "movie" lives. The Guru is a comedy that will definitely entertain you at first glance, but I can't guarantee that you will have the same fun watching it a second time.

I don't know how it was for the two newlyweds who chose a honeymoon vacation combined with scuba diving, and the boat crew only remembered them after 2 days. I don't know what it was like for these two people, whose story director Chris Kentis decided to make this film based on. However, Kentis disgustingly squashed the incredibly promising subject matter with his unimaginative and soulless direction and even worse editing. The 79-minute runtime passes quickly, but the film's content is highly contradictory. After fifteen minutes, people get into the water and the drama begins. The protagonists are put through a real test. The audience really empathizes with them and waits to see how their situation will unfold. Then comes a rough cut, and we see the couple arguing, accusing each other of everything possible, and then another cut, and all is well again. They tell each other how much they love each other and that it will all work out. After it was over, I was nearly beside myself with rage when I realized the potential Chris Kentis held in his hands. If he had at least developed the psychology of the two people a little by going in and out of the argument through small cues, it might also have given the film a real cinematic dimension. The way it is makes it come across as an unsympathetic and poorly edited documentary. The digital camera (which also changes about four angles) also didn’t help. That may be modern today, but the attempt for a rawer image doesn't always go as planned. Kentis didn't manage to achieve it at all. All things considered, Open Water could have become a cult classic because, compared to Jaws (which is a spectacular spectacle in comparison to this), no similar film has emerged since then. But on the other hand, it must be acknowledged that Kentis' intention was truly commendable, and the zeal with which he shot the film was remarkable. Unfortunately, I'm interested in the final product, which seems like a bad joke, much like the shot of the cooked shark under the closing credits.