Isherwood

x One can characterize You Can Count on Me as a small/big film. The minimalist formal aspect, relying on a few locations typical of a small American town, which represent a family house, a local bar, and a few similar places, serves merely as accompanying scenery for a plot that also doesn’t have breathtaking peripeties but follows one small family drama. Director Kenneth Lonergan relied heavily on the strength of the performances. Indeed, whether it's the pleasantly down-to-earth Laura Linney and Mark Ruffalo as estranged siblings, the director himself in a small role as a reverend, or the absolutely excellent Rory Culkin (from Signs). All of them literally drive the film forward, and the director doesn't overthink the storytelling. Thanks to the good flow of individual situations, often adorned with the subtlest humor, and the content of the film itself, this unassuming yet very impactful work effortlessly flows like water and leaves a clear mark in the viewer's mind. Its impact will resonate with me for quite some time.

Knowledge of the Quran and social norms, along with an understanding of the entirely different mentality of the Afghan people, will likely be essential when watching Osama. Utilizing these tools, the viewer can navigate the film's narrative and thematic intricacies with the grace of a ballet dancer. With the absence of each of the facts listed above, the limit of comprehensibility is automatically radically reduced. I won't claim that I navigated the film with complete ease, but the basic plot structure, its power, emotional charge, and most importantly its idea stuck in my head. The simple form can be summarized as follows: In addition to the alternation of shaky and static camera shots with a television-like filter, there is nothing interesting or, let alone, revolutionary to be found in the film. So wherein lies the power of Osama? All in all, in nothing, because although it may seem like a cry of one girl in a crowd of boys at first glance, it ultimately gets "overwhelmed" by the crowd and, despite its urgency, it will likely be as effective as spitting into the ocean.

Even with its promising premise, upon reflection, Undercover Blues comes across as a properly stupid B-movie. When compared to Cameron's True Lies, they would also lose what little they had left. I am not a nationalist who would be bothered by twisting national historical facts, but even so, despite the film being from the "fateful" year 1993, I heard the word "Czechoslovakia" despite loudly grinding my teeth at the time. And although Undercover Blues sometimes pretended to be a parody of genre films, at times it was also a parody of the film itself. However, the main duo of Kathleen Turner and Dennis Quaid more than make up for all these flaws. They thoroughly enjoy their roles, and their acting is a joy to watch until they are faced with an action scene (thankfully, there are very few of those), where the editing scissors must work as they would on Steven Seagal's new films. But as a 95-minute relaxation film, Undercover Blues fulfills its role perfectly, so the 3 stars make absolute sense.

It's like the calendars have turned back to the early 1990s when genre films "for guys" were being made. The story went off track, and the emphasis was on sentimental speeches, true manly friendships that last forever, and a good dose of adrenaline-fueled but realistic action. That's exactly the category Ladder 49 falls into. It lacks none of the aforementioned. However, ten years later, even the "retro" memories want something more. The absence of a story, which has been replaced by unimpressive flashbacks of the firefighter's life, is not the main missing link. The film lacks a proper narrative structure, as with the increasing minutes, the stereotypical family pictures become as boring as the firefighting action, which, despite its well-balanced dose of audience appeal and realistic "documentary" approach, fails to truly captivate. The viewer's main enemy is the runtime, which is completely unnecessary given the subject matter and deserves to be cut, especially in the "family passages." Joaquin Phoenix may have been scared of his first proper leading role because in many scenes he gives the impression of a boy caught playing with matches in a hayloft. The more the audience might have been let down by the film's structure, the more they will enjoy the fantastic performance of John Travolta, who remains charming until his emotionally charged final speech that must have resonated with all moviegoers while comforting the mournful souls of the funeral attendees, as Ladder 49 is a pure celebration of the heroic performance of "its American boys." I would like to say (or write) that if you put on a tough smile and surrender to the film, you will immensely enjoy it. However, Ladder 49 is too scattered between a family soap opera and a film "for guys," making it difficult for the audience to fully immerse themselves and appreciate it. On the other hand, I must applaud the team of pyrotechnicians and stunt performers who ultimately provided the adrenaline rush. Although there wasn't much of it, some is still better than none.

One thing needs to be done right at the beginning, to bow down to the creators for taking on a seemingly uninteresting topic for America and making a film about it. However, director Terry George used the brutal fist of the Rwandan genocide only as a backdrop for the story of one man who accomplished the almost impossible. If I had to compare Paul Rusesabagina to someone, it would definitely be Oskar Schindler. Through diplomatic talks and the almighty power of money, they managed to do one and the same thing. In the film, Rusesabagina is portrayed as a man who does not want to become a hero, but the price of human life is incalculable for him and his actions must therefore soon be understood by every viewer. Moreover, his character and humanity are perfectly portrayed thanks to the magnificent performance of Don Cheadle. Indeed, if it weren't for Jamie Foxx playing the blind Ray, Cheadle would have been assured of an Oscar. And while on the topic of actors, it would be a sin not to mention the excellent performances of Nick Nolte and Joaquin Phoenix, who handled their small but important roles very well, especially Phoenix's full beard, which is quite distracting. However, just like Hotel Rwanda has many merits, it also has many shortcomings, with the biggest one being the unevenness of the storytelling. The director tries to combine "action" scenes, where the militia murders the unarmed, with emotional and heavy decision-making scenes in a very subtle way, which results in a diametrical thereto. At times, I felt like I was watching two movies at the same time, which also strongly deviated from the original theme of the storytelling. But neither the "action" nor the impression is the point. It's about the value of a human life and how much strength one is willing to sacrifice for it. This is what Hotel Rwanda tells a great story about. It’s been four years since we got Black Hawk Down by Ridley Scott, and here we get another very raw and harsh "postcard" from Africa.

I can't help but feel like 5x2 was a theater play the whole time. That was mainly because the director and screenwriter François Ozon conceived the film in five acts, each of which presented two identical people. However, whether it is the initial divorce (in reverse chronological order), raising the son, his birth, the wedding, or the final encounter, every time it feels like the viewer is witnessing completely different people. Yet there was something missing in these five main points of marital cohabitation. I missed the coherence of the plot that unfolding before my eyes. In fact, the scenes could be used as a good basis for a TV miniseries, rather than as a single feature film. The connection between them is left for the viewer to imagine, and although it's not difficult to do so – Ozon truly excelled as a director – this "connection" should have been the main focal point of his "pushing the envelope." This leaves the viewer with five episodes to watch without the slightest interest, because the film as a whole lacks any atmosphere and any "focal point" in which we could form a relationship with the characters. In fact, this film is so self-absorbed and self-indulgent that it doesn't really need anything or anyone, including the viewer. And that's really as solid as 5x2 equaling 10. That’s too bad because something could have been done with the one.

Michal Viewegh wrote a screenplay based on his own book. Whatever Viewegh is as a writer (I haven't read anything by him, and I'm not going to anytime soon) he sucks as a screenwriter. How is it even possible for someone to put together a fairly digestible plot, but move it forward with the most idiotic dialogue that seems to have come from a soap opera? Certainly, if the title itself refers to the appropriate reader/viewer category, then in that case, I apologize. But I am not only evaluating From Subway with Love from the point of view of a man but also from the point of view of an unbiased viewer who got to watch the film by pure chance. Why did Viewegh name his characters with "typical Czech" names like Laura, Oliver, Jeff, and Ricky? And why does he send these cosmopolitan-minded individuals to a dusty Czech apartment building and let them ski in the Slovak Tatra Mountains? There are many more ways (and less violent ones at that) to circumvent Czech nationalism, which Viewegh is probably trying to avoid at all costs. I’d never doubted Filip Renč's directorial qualities until now. Renč is capable of serving funny scenes with absolute ease, which made even me (as a guy) laugh but as a viewer, forced me to swallow bitter saliva and a curse. The scene where Ingrid gained her aversion to guys when she said "All guys should be castrated," left me weak in the knees, and the captivated listening to Laura's hairdresser storytelling, on the other hand, stirred up my bile. However, From Subway with Love has someone I haven't seen anywhere for a long time, and that is Zuzana Kanócz. Calling her the new Julia Roberts isn't really appropriate, because Kanócz is purely her own person and she acts brilliantly. The same cannot be said about Marek Vašut, who did quite a poor job with his comeback, and when he said, "show me your ID right away," I felt like I was in an American sitcom. From Subway with Love is a seriously unbalanced film, where every bright spot is overshadowed by three dark ones, and at the end, I felt utter awkwardness. It was the same kind of awkwardness that came over me even after watching Bad Joke. If it continues like this, I'll soon give up on Czech cinema and whisper: "Rest in peace."

I love experimenting with film, I love theatre, and I knew that even though I hadn't seen any of Lars von Trier's films, I should expect the unexpected. And yet I can't sort out the confusion in my head that Dogville unleashed, even days after watching it. You certainly can't say it's a weird movie. But oddly enough, it is true. Von Trier wanted to achieve an absolute victory of content over form, but in doing so he created the film's main Achilles heel. Or does anyone want to object to the fact that the audience will fully focus on the story and be completely absorbed, not minding that the actors are in a huge studio with standing sets that would make even a theater envious? That the illusion of day and night, as well as the changing seasons, is the result of the skill of a great team of lighting experts? And that most of the sounds, including opening doors and birdsong, were added in post-production? We can answer yes to that, but only if Dogville has a really strong story, which unfortunately it doesn't. The photographs shown during the closing credits left me pondering whether Von Trier's screenplay was based on a true story or not. Regardless, one cannot deny its certain impact and impressiveness. At the same time, there is a certain coldness and predictability in it, which is the main reason for my "lower" rating. I would really like to raise it higher, mainly because of the actors who give outstanding performances. Nicole Kidman shines brightly, and the contrasting chemistry with Paul Bettany is excellent. Dogville is a film that you don't often see, but when you do, it should at least be worth it. No, I'm not demanding, I just don't like it when something is not working smoothly and this creaks too much.

The socio-cultural boom that hit America in the 1960s never particularly appealed to me, so the only film that I think fit best into that era was Forrest Gump. When I saw Miloš Forman's Hair earlier, the only thing that attracted me to it was its form. But you also can't say that about Taking Off. For me, it became just a one-and-a-half-hour-long narrative about family conflicts, running away from home, parental narrow-mindedness, and exemplary marijuana smoking. Throughout the entire film, I was just watching something with an apathetic expression that didn't interest me at all and was boring overall. I'm surprised that I didn't turn it off. To fully appreciate the film, perhaps a greater understanding of certain "cultural values" and "social rules" is needed. But no matter how hard I try, I can't find that understanding. Maybe I should grow up.

Watching Gore Verbinski's American remake of Ring before the original film presented me with an unexpected problem. All of Hideo Nakata's plot trump cards were instantly gone. Comparing the two films is as easy as it is problematic. Limited financial (and thus digital) resources condemned Nakata to rely on classic horror storytelling techniques. It literally attacks the viewer with sharp sounds, nervous music, and rapid editing. Unlike Verbinski, who answers all questions with the zeal of a bulldog, Nakata relies more on the strange mystery that little Sadako represents for him. But as a storyteller, he is not as good as his American counterpart, who alternated ultra-dark suspense with moments of sheer terror. Nakata works only with occasional jump scares (I applaud him for the cut when the closet is opened) and otherwise gets lost in boredom. It is not just because I knew the story, but Nakata simply fails to hit the nerves right. And I'm not saying (or writing) this just for the sake of it, because I know how his "American mission" with The Ring Two turned out. If I had to choose, I would definitely go for the American version, which is more complex, more exciting, and better. It is true that it is made as a product for a wider audience, but still.