NinadeL

Vorel's trilogy sank into such a film form that it is pointless to come up with any defense for it. It's formally weak, the content unclear, and the screenplay unfinished. Not even the recasting of Linhartová with Šteflová helped at all, as she is not at all as fierce as needed. Out of the City was a dynamic response to the overly technological age. To the Woods found its theme in young love. The Way Home wanted to offer several strong themes and depict the departure of some characters, but instead of a strong statement, only a bitter aftertaste remained. What a shame.

A simple fairytale. Nothing exceptional and nothing fundamentally problematic is to be found here. Among Janák's fairy tales, this one is definitely more acceptable. Similar projects having ambitions to entertain the whole family are long gone, but kids can definitely handle the simple messages, logically following situations, the duo of cunning villains, and the slightly emancipated princess together with the characterful water sprite. Meanwhile, adults can contemplate the meaning of a heavenly gate in today's times.

The most beautiful Christmas stories from the Stone Age. Hanna-Barbera at its best. Fred works at Macyrock's store, which refers to the real Macy's store. It's a follow-up on the Christmas specials:  A Flintstone Christmas (1977), A Flintstone Family Christmas (1993) and A Flintstones Christmas Carol (1994).

This thriller from BBC One takes place in the environment of the 62 Committee group, which fought against neo-Nazism in the 60s and 70s, specifically against Colin Jordan's National Socialist Movement party. This is an attractive theme, but unfortunately, it is an adaptation of Jo Bloom's popular novel, and therefore the result is a hesitant miniseries that doesn't know whether it should primarily entertain or appeal to basic moral values. The ending is unfortunately a clumsy parody of anything from CI5 to 007. It's not surprising that there is not much interest in such a mixture.

A major documentary saying goodbye to the legend of the porn industry with Rocco Siffredi. How does the work of a porn actor resonate with Italian Catholicism? Can work and family be separated? Is it possible to find redemption if Rocco chooses a submissive role in the final film of his career? It is good to think about porn in today's world. It has never been possible to ignore porn, but when else to make documentaries than at a time when the boundaries of the mainstream are once again being blurred.

An expressively charming Art Nouveau melodrama that is among the best of Protectorate cinema. The Dancing Girl is another one of Čáp's grand costume films, where we once again get to see his favorite actors, with Marie Glázrová this time in the lead role, additionally with Štěpničková, Brzková, Kohout, Nezval, and Pivec. The life trajectory of successful dancer Clo Satranová is ideal material for a psychological game about the loss of personal happiness at the expense of fame. Rare is the encounter with legendary dancer Jelizaveta Nikolská.

Investigator Marie Výrová (played by the extremely passive Klára Melíšková in the lead role) deals with a case from the late 80s, the injustices of one big family, and really takes her time with it. The plot, which previously would hardly be enough for a one-hour production, now lasts over three hours. The individual performances of some of the actors are not necessarily bad (Marika Procházková is very charming), but watching the dead ends of a statute-barred murder for three episodes is too much. Moreover, the point is obviously exaggerated and doesn't make much sense in context. However, in the end, this crime story is probably one of those that conservative viewers like to watch, because they can listen to conservative opinions, remember the era of perestroika, and see their favorite TV faces again, and that's it. How else can you defend a subplot built on manipulation by a high-ranking member of the Communist Party, supported by an additional post-revolutionary story when this seasoned communist was confused by the changes that occurred? Not to mention the portrayal of the lesbian character as inherently negative, of course. Rather than having any quality, Monsters of the Shore is a total cliché.

Kolečko has completely gone mad. The eight episodes are a complete mess, with every episode changing genre, and linguistically, it's extreme chaos. Is it a parody? Is it satire? Apparently, no one knows. Is it the story of a beauty from Trebišov or an attempt to shock at any cost? Iveta is such a strange concept that it can only be watched like a car accident. A complete mistake. You can't take your eyes off it and it just keeps going and going. Unbelievable.

18+ Natálie Císařovská thinks similarly to me. She became acquainted with the fate of Andrea Absolonová (1976-2004) through her obituary, which later inspired her to draw parallels between elite sports and pornography, and she built a feature film based on this reflection. Based on the reactions of ordinary people and (so-called) professional reviews, I conclude that the majority of Císařovská's audience eagerly swallowed the film's promotional game. Some are even disappointed that Her Body is not more sexy or does not follow the expected downward spiral. However, Císařovská does not see Absolonová's career change as a moral downfall, but as a logical step in the given situation. Her film speaks much more about how toxic the environment of elite sports is, and how easily one can treat the body as a mere tool if it is taken away from you in childhood. What happened to the main character in her life? Overnight, she had to end her sports career due to a neck injury. She had no alternative career plan (here the exclamation mark is directed at her parents and coach), and after recovering, she only had her trained body left. For the first time, she could decide for herself about it, gradually recovering from training drills, starting to eat, menstruate (another exclamation mark for neglected care by her parents and coach), and making decisions about her sex life. And the only thing she could work with was her ambition for success. The Czech porn industry at that time offered her a new opportunity. It was not just a factory for cheap internet scenes; it was a world in itself, where good money was made, and some awards carried some weight. Those uninvolved may not be able to grasp this difference, but it is certainly possible to read the memoir book by Tarra White "Porno a já" (Porn and Me), who, according to her own words, entered the industry six months after Absolonová's/Ley de Mae death and experienced all the emotions of mourning with her former colleagues. Those who have the courage to watch some of Ley de Mae's full movies can certainly understand how successful she was and that she really managed to travel with this profession, and it did not just remain as empty promises of the small Czech production. ___ I was exceptionally at a screening in a full movie theater, and it was interesting to observe various false moans of dismay and reassurances among the seats in the style of "it is really terrible what is happening on the screen."  I remember similar entertaining reactions from the screenings of Nymph()maniac: Volume 1 ;)

The first episode, moderated by Ljuba Hermanová, is on a certain level. She invited several guests, went out into the field, showcased some fashion hits herself, and prepared viewers for the 1970/1971 season. Viewers even learned what a boutique is, and at the end, there was a song. This was practically a modern format. The next three episodes have not been preserved, and shock from the decline in quality was that much greater. The fifth episode from 1971 is just raw material, a dryly read fashion catalog, and a makeup tutorial. The worst is probably the naivety because at that time the return to the 1930s was embarrassing. The comparison with Mandlová, Garbo, and Dietrich speaks for itself, of course. The sixth and seventh episodes are just purely soporific (and terrifying in the case of glasses).