Isherwood

A directorially-undiscoverable biography that is dragged through an hour of hopeful rhetoric and another hour of political scheming by excellent actors alone. Sometimes I feel sorry for homosexuals when films about them have to be either desperate comedies or arthouse martyrdom tear-jerkers.

A slow, but smoothly told story of fate, in which you know the end of all the characters the moment they are introduced at the beginning as a bunch of primitive rednecks hungry for money. Dominik's direction, coupled with Deakins' cinematography, has an almost hypnotic effect, and the film rides (thanks also to Nick Cave’s score) on a wave of feeling rather than shaking the colts damnably low. Pitt acts "only" by constantly pitying them and Affleck's slimy rat - you hate, you understand, and on and on. Either way, he’s the one who owns this film. It’s too bad the director isn't as good at creating relationships between the characters (briskness) as he is at atmosphere because then it would have been brilliant. This way it stayed just below the higher review scores.

This is a dry copy of the first film that just recycles the best and boils the rest in infantilism. The monkeys deserve a diploma for their participation and the penguins a massive monument!

Bizarre creepiness, overdone to the right degree. When after Saw 4 I called for Bousman to make something else, I didn't know he would go so far off the mark. Indeed, he more or less always works with the same motifs, but he coaxes the singing performances with ease and some of them have such a strong charge that you feel like singing along with the actors. And even Paris got a role, which I could like her for similarly to the pole climb in House of Wax. My only complaint is that the film doesn't maintain its pace - many of the dips are too empty. But the whole is still very strong. This is a mandatory submission to the makers of Mamma Mia! to see what a musical fling should be.

There is one big paradox here that stands and falls on the audience’s knowledge of the Spanish original, which wins out in my case. This is because even a consistent copy can lose out in terms of the little things, which in this case are the not-so-long "steady-cam" shots, and the sparking of a cut-off group of people doesn't spark as much flame as in hot Barcelona. On the other hand, the less eloquent ending isn't entirely a bad thing, even if the film leaves you in the waters of science instead of religious rage, which I attribute to the fact that Dowdle is "only" a decent craftsman, whereas Balaugeró is a cynical provocateur. As for the main character, Jennifer Carpenter is just as likable as her blonde predecessor, so I vote for a tie there. Still, this should have taken its time for about two or three years, then I would have enjoyed it more. Assuming it was the original, it would have been a total hit, this way, it’s a useless film. Which is too bad. 3 ½.

Reflecting on one of the black shadows of American history while thoroughly dissecting diverse human characters, this two-hour conversation is propelled by Howard's reliably craftsman-like direction and the amazing acting performance by everyone (!) involved. Yet despite the exceptionalism of the supporting parts, it is ultimately the excellent Martin Sheen and his crackpot 1970s metrosexual who falls flat on his face, and especially (I’m not afraid to use the word) the brilliant Frank Langella, who do in fact carry the film. The way Langella inhabited the character of Richard Nixon - a tall but stooped man who has been whittled to the bone by two years of affairs, yet still has that dark sparkle in his eyes and the sharp tongue with which he can fend off opponents - reminds me in many ways of oil tycoon D. D. Lewis. The fact that Langella was politically overlooked in the Oscar race in favor of the homosexual Milk made me jump out of my chair. And finally, there’s Ron Howard - the religious conspiracy screaming is forgiven because the visual concept (excellent editing and cinematography) and overall swing bring the film to the absolute peak. Along with Stone’s W., this is one of the most interesting "political" films of recent times (maybe even years).

I won't argue with anyone that the script is total phantasmagoria, but no one can tell me that Tony Scott has no competition in the field of "high-speed". Such visual lipstick, which he paints with cinematographer Paul Cameron, would be the envy of the entire cosmetics industry. The plot moves along briskly and, aware of its simplicity, at times goes so far that you wait for Denzel Washington to wink lasciviously not only at his colleagues but also at the viewer through the camera. The only problem may seem to be the ending, but the way the screenwriter duo navigates the trade-off between choosing between fate and pandering to an audience hungry for uniform outcomes is actually to be applauded. This is a twisted and funnier variation on Minority Report, which wins points over Spielberg for me.

Even porn is art, it just has to be appreciated. But otherwise, it's a "traditional" Kevin Smith romance that breathes on the back of Chasing Amy. It’s definitely not the weakest Smith film, just a little different, or maybe a little more commercial, but it’s still its own, honest, and above all funny. And Elizabeth Banks is an angel.

James Ellroy is a classic, and the substance he delivers can't possibly disappoint, especially when Brian DePalma is directing. I admit that at times I had the feeling that this reference-laden and, to many, surrendering noir plaything would have been better under the direction of Martin Scorsese. On the other hand, DePalma's distinctive direction (fetish, violence, steady-cam) gives it a slightly different edge. It is perhaps less polished, but again more playful and fun, unafraid to go to the core of all the genre clichés in order to milk them for powerful moments like the scene on the stairs or the final absolution. I’m no connoisseur of the noir school, but I really like the few films I've seen. That's why I was very pleased with DePalma's tribute. He may not be the old provocateur anymore, but he is still a conscious filmmaker with a distinctly legible style.

Spike Lee on the battlefield? I think that even if he went to the other side of the universe, he would still pursue his favorite themes, which he can set in any environment. In this war drama about the fact that miracles sometimes do happen, he looks again at racism and the sins of the past that can reverberate even decades later. Although it is not as much of a game with the viewer as, say, Inside Man, the directness will be more to the likes of many. This is especially true if you can appreciate likable characters and miracle-level coincidences (which, judging by all the crying on IMDb, you probably can't). But even if not, the ice cream passage or the church in St. Anna are emotional highlights that few other films offer. It’s too bad that the cathartic ending, which I suspected from the halfway point, doesn't have the same impact. Otherwise, it’s great. 4 ½.