NinadeL

A Week in the Quiet House is a completely and utterly evil film from Krejčík. That's all the negation one needs. Even the positive motives sound kind of bleak. And many of the episodes give me chills. The whole story around Svozilová and Waleská is more futile than any other, the bland Höger really doesn't save the whole thing, and the Kurandová figures were overexposed at all times. I really don't seek out any reruns of it. But when I realize that this was Krejčík’s debut, his courage is appreciated.

The contemporary trend of transposing adaptations of popular novels into the present had its pitfalls. Its better and worse moments. For example, I never fully accepted Ignát Herrmann in modern settings, but the theme of Tales of the Lesser Quarter by Jan Neruda is right on the edge of the First Republic timelessness, in which it was still quite common to be a student in the flat of a pretty landlady. True, Neruda culminates things in a duel, which would have been somewhat out of the question in 1938, but the chatter and some of the sentiment or young love are still the same and will be the same tomorrow.

Václav Wasserman already liked Neruda in the silent film era, which is quite significant, given the formal aspect of Quarrymen. It's a pleasure to consider Quarrymen in the context of contemporary work dominated by a lighter genre and not this raw, early Neruda. I am very happy to see Struna, Marion, and especially Slávka Doležalová. The melancholic mood, the different pace of the narrative, and the generally completely different (and unpleasant) subject matter of Quarrymen will probably never make the film a memorable hit, but for lovers of the Czech 1930s, watching it should be a given.

Another romantic comedy in the style of Look Who's Talking Now. If you're in the mood for a sweet film, you’ll enjoy this. If you were looking forward to Vicky Pratt a bit more, unfortunately, it's just another entry in the film library with the tag "she only had one scene in it." On the other hand, Brian is a likeable veteran of Charmed and Return to the Blue Lagoon, so it's a clear hit with his audience.

The plot doesn't make much sense, but the atmosphere, animation, and individual characters are literally charming. It's about as much of an experience as The Adventures of Pete & Pete used to be on SuperMax if they had a feature film.

The Sessions is based on the book "An Intimate Life" by Cheryl T. Cohen Greene and Lorna Garano. What do you imagine under the slogan about the confession of a sex therapist who heals with her own body instead of words? Probably only a few of you will consider this "one of the most fascinating films of the year." But the combination of unobtrusive direction, the pleasantly short runtime, and good casting makes The Sessions a pleasant film about a taboo subject that feels completely natural and normal as you watch it. If you've made it this far, feel free to continue by reading the book, which has much more to it than just the one movie story. Sex is not a disease, sex is pleasure.

Eat, Pray, Love is the personal story of Elizabeth Gilbert, who just didn't want to live by the mold and finally admitted it and did something about it. That's such an unpopular starting point that it's clear that it can't be a film loved by everyone because some of the stories simply hurt. Whether it’s because you have a similar fate or a friend who should finally get off her ass and do something similar, even if it doesn't mean driving to the ends of the earth. The book is excruciating in places because it's really just the flow of the main character's thoughts as she radically changes her life at the last possible moment. She's self-centered, but of course only within the necessity of her instinct for self-preservation. Thanks to Julia, the film is quite an entertaining probe into the mind of a much more universal protagonist, if only because the face of Julia has long belonged to so many different protagonists, with whom we have subconsciously identified for so many years. Most importantly, who else can eat spaghetti as sensuously as she can, with that huge mouth of hers?

Like the South Indian Jane Austen adaptation I Have Found It (2000), Thomas Hardy's version is an extraordinary experience. Although "Tess of the d'Urbervilles" transformed into the present may lack Victorian logic, it replaces it with its own compact thought world. While I can understand that it may be a problem for some to watch a film with subtitles when the dialogues mix English, Hindi, Punjabi, and Rajasthani, it really couldn't have been more authentic. In the kind face of Freida Pinto, we find everything we need to experience the story of today's Tess in the modern world. It's just too bad that both her literary suitors have been merged here into just one person, and the drama has thus escalated ab absurdum. If you can think about Victorian morality in new contexts, you'll be delighted by this.

Another Thomas Hardy story that made me want to shoot myself. It’s either film therapy or Victorian logic for the advanced. However, with the passage of time, I return to Hardy in many guises, and I will always see Tess through the prism of Polanski's tragedy. Alas. Even though the truth is that the story of the abused Tess would have been enough of an identity crisis on its own without the Manson crew of imbeciles.

The Lucifer series can be strangely more digestible than the Constantine series. It's something completely different from the comic book premise, as it’s a pure generic crime drama with supernatural elements, one slowly-building relationship, and a super charismatic main character. But I like the fact that Lucifer was remembered in the Arrowverse.