NinadeL

It is a pleasure to see Julius Ševčík's journey through Czech cinema, and yet it is also worth asking whether three films in the space of a decade are really enough to prove his talent. Very briefly: Masaryk is a necessary film, whether for its genre or the choice of the person it follows. It is skillfully shot, interesting, fits into the color of the Munich stigma, and offers up another shard. Those less familiar with the subject will at least be introduced to the nature of Jan Masaryk's foreign travels and hear Roden speak in foreign languages. For me, it’s a yes.

The 1926 novel "Él" by Spanish author Mercedes Pinto inspired Buñuel to write a rather interesting film essay on the subject of interpersonal relationships. It’s about dependence on a partner, the relationship to one’s environment, the ego, and other usual corners of the human soul. As is traditional with Buñuel, I have a hard time with the transposition of literary models forward in time, and of course, as ever, I don't rest my eyes with pleasure on that 1950s aesthetic, which is simply questionable. However, if I detach myself from the determination of place and time, I can appreciate and even surprisingly recommend this intimate story about a marriage. I'd just be very careful about comparing it to Fassbinder's film Martha; the story is much more comparable to Buñuel's later adaptation of the book "The Woman And The Puppet."

I guess I've gotten used to Pascal Thomas just very loosely adapting Agatha and making the next installment of his Agatha Christie adaptations. Here, everything seems to have worked just for the joy of discovering a springboard for Catherine Frot's snorting and for her pairing with André Dussollier. The whole free trilogy is no miracle, but it may be enough to change your tastes. Finally, the little scenes with Sarah Biasini are a delight.

Another piece of Jarmusch-esque crap. When he makes a western, it's a draggy B&W hipster movie with Johnny Depp. When he decides to make a vampire movie, Tilda and Tommy are so happy to be there. Alternatively, he likes to research Billy Murray's former loves, so why not make fun of the fact that a black man would be involved with the Samurai Code? It's fun.

Poetic, and sad, but also extremely manipulative. Not even the genuine relationship that Javier Bardem has with Maricel Álvarez can save it. I'm sorry, but Iñárritu is too transparent and violent in his handling of the most basic emotions, which he treats as an investment, and it really is - the gain is recognition and heartfelt weeping. I'm not interested in participating in that.

The charming Ita Rina is magically appealing to many involved in film history. I have heard many opinions over the years. From the classic disdain (actors are not important and actresses are not important at all) to a light interest, which inspired few to seek out her films made outside of Prague studios. In Slovenia, however, she is finally and rightly getting a major documentary and is gaining a status similar to Pola Negri in Poland, for example. We follow her story that has so much in common with an entire generation of her peers. These are stories full of beauty pageants, cosmopolitanism, and a career defined by a relationship with German cinema. There is of course also love (she got married in the same year as Jarmila Novotná, which also complicated many things for her), and the pre-war and post-war fates (although she did not get engaged during the war, and after the war, she was rejected for belonging to the pre-war generation). In this respect, the documentary is very ambitious - it tries to illustrate all the metropolises Ita has passed through, sometimes more successfully, sometimes less so (the ineffective overuse of Prague, for example, or the passing off of the interior of the Ponrepo movie theater as something else entirely). But most fundamentally, especially in the Prague context, a number of factual errors remained (Vera Baranovskaja did not actually star in the film...and life goes on...) and the issue of the onset of sound was not properly grasped. We don't know, for example, which film was her first sound film, as the question of accent is marginalized (although it was a crucial issue for her peers). If it is further said that the first rejection by Hollywood came to nothing because she made a film with Medeotti Boháč and he does not have a good reputation in the classical overview of Czech directors, it would be necessary to at least give it some context. It also raises a rather fundamental question, in which films did Ita actually play the lead roles? Only in the Czech ones? In some of the others from the 1930s? This is not sufficiently answered, as it would open up another topic to relativize her stellar career. If Ita is presented here as a star who was repeatedly asked by Hollywood (but in her early days, when she was still one of many) it wouldn't sound so elegant if it was at a time when she was not a permanent representative of starring roles. Something is implied, but one has to remember that the Hollywood offers to European actresses in the interwar period can be counted in the hundreds, if not more, and the number of those who refused is just as high as those who were not successful and returned (Lilian Harvey is quoted, notably, whom Ita met in Babelsberg during her first rehearsals). If the significantly successful Marlene Dietrich or the generation younger Hedy Lamarr are mentioned, they are incomparable cases. In any case, the materials and samples from which the documentary is compiled are absolutely excellent, and will be appreciated especially by a researcher who has been working on the topic for years. The statements of the interviewees are always up for debate, and it would not hurt to work more with their relation to Ita to make the message more transparent. But of course, the pros outweigh the cons, and if the film is available other than at one screening in Ponrepo (which had technical glitches so typical of any showing in this movie theater), it will only be a good thing.

I can well imagine that on paper it must have looked like fun. The half-naked protagonist gets into more and more trouble in a villa full of wild Italians, one of whom is Marcello. Unfortunately, the premise of a comedy remained on paper, and if I'm in the mood for a good silly comedy, I'd obviously choose Forbidden Love over What?

Werner Herzog’s Ten Thousand Years Older - a documentary from the primeval forest. Jim Jarmusch's Int. Trailer Night - a nice B&W interlude between filming, a nice contrast between the present and the actress dressed in 1920s clothes. Wim Wenders’ Twelve Miles to Trona - a dynamic car journey through the Californian desert.

Another Zanussi journey into the depths of the soul of a Polish university student. In The Structure of Crystal, I found it almost charming, in The Illumination somewhat destructive and audience-unfriendly to the point of being unacceptable. And here? The protective coloring may have a noble tendency, but if one is engaged in studying oneself, one could take a very, very negative attitude toward academia. Indeed, it could cause one moral unease.

Jean-Marc Barr is a typical face from von Trier's films and the protagonist of The Big Blue, and as such he has a lot to say and convey. I wouldn't say the same about his film American Translation. It is as if the message is sewn to the film with a hot needle. The entire film is bathed in unexciting nudity and drowned in adolescent feelings of desire.