DaViD´82

At last a movie where I would have welcomed a couple minutes more. This way, although it is sexy, titillating foreplay that stretches your every nerve to the maximum, the act itself is too short to be at all satisfying. In other words, no orgasm. But so what, a lame dip is a dip all the same and lame Smith movie is still a Smith movie. However, I will never forgive Kevin for the absence of Bod and Jay (although Mewes is in fact Jay in Lester’s skin).

The bank part is terribly boring, but absolutely poignant and almost satirical fragments from behind the scenes fully make up for this. However, it all relies on one thing. Van Damme, who built a larger than life platinum pedestal for himself with this movie and then clambered up to pose proudly on it. And rightly so. Hanging up the washing of a defunct star in public through a “pseudo movie reality show" probably required as much courage as there are jokes (or truths?) about Chuck Norris. So, Jean-Claude, you said what you wanted and now go back to Bulgaria to film another dud about an unstoppable nuclear train. Although, if there was a pinch of sincerity in what you said, you should hang up your kick-boxing gloves on a nail and try a different approach to acting. You obviously have it in you, I would swallow that tearful monolog even if you served it with broccoli. And normally I can’t even look at it, let alone eat it.

Infantile, over-combined but entertaining (even so). The greatest shame is that none of the central trio puts even a hint of the charisma or even interest into their character. One look from Tuco and these three would shoot out with each other over the immense honor of licking his dirty feet and then stepping up to Blondie standing next to him to polish up his dusty boots.

A fairytale horror for young adults, fairytale horror for adults or a family picture about a band of orphans and the magic of Christmas? I don’t know, there’s a bit of everything in there. And, apart from the markedly better first half, I don’t have much to fault. It’s enough when I remember that impenetrable forest (I can’t think of a movie with a more powerful forest atmosphere) and straight away I feel like setting off into the mountains to find my own “Gingerbread House".

A powerful thought, especially at the time it was made. But for my taste it is served up too superficially and some scenes are laughably blatant (now something for the really dumb ones, or remember the ruminations while feeding the cow). Which I wouldn’t mind so much, if only it had been as much fun as at the beginning. But this isn’t as light-hearted as Stalag 17 so it would work as a comedy, but at the same time this lacks any drama. There’s no suspense, no fear for the characters, simply nothing. They all just spout didactic wisdom about the importance of understanding each other, regardless of language, nation, race, club membership and god knows what else. In view of the fact that despite the timelessness of the central thought, this is still an escape movie, that’s risky. Way too risky.

It’s almost unbelievable that a movie with so many beautiful ladies could be so mundane. On the other hand Denner plays his nonchalant playboy with such verve that even the staunchest feminist would succumb to him in an instant. But still I got the impression that rather than Truffaut’s love for women, his passion for books shone out of this. P.S.: Otherwise it’s quite a faithful adaptation of Pshimi’s reviews reflecting his own antics. I could really see that big-eared Bohemian in it.

It's crap to the nth degree, oscillating from brilliant scenes to the most unworthy bollocks. Often there really is something to laugh about, but the very next event usually quickly erases that smile from your lips with its unbelievable awkwardness.

Horror! And more psycho than Psycho itself. Ullmann and Sydow excel in front of the camera and Nykvist behind it. If it weren't for the unnecessarily exaggerated interpretive complexity, it would be perfect.

Not Bergman's shame, but mine. This is an excellent film, but I was only able to tune in to its wave in the brilliant first half, then not anymore. On the other hand, it's true that a character as interesting as Jan certainly doesn't appear on screen every day.

“Neo-magic bizarre surrealism" like straight out of Murakami’s tales. Two Frenchmen, one Korean and as much originality that can fit into a space the size of Tokyo. Immediately, Gondry’s contribution sets a standard for the following tales that is so high, it is impossible to exceed. Which soon proves to be true, but even so the remaining two tales easily deserve a solid five stars. Although Merde (a sort of artsy Toxic Avenger) is perhaps a little longer than it needed to be while Shaking Tokyo on the other hand has a few loose ends. But who cares when even the “movie inside the movie" in Gondry’s tale alone is more original and more entertaining that ninety percent of movies that come to the movie theaters here in the Czech Republic. P.S.: And this certainly isn’t just an intellectual affairs for one in a thousand cinephiles, but rather a movie that can appeal to a wide range of viewers. It’s just that this range is rather more bizarre than usual.