Matty

“It’s now or never, miss.” In the most emotionally demanding episode of the entire series, this introductory lesson in existentialism (and nihilism) very accurately conveys the feeling of coming to terms with the fact that some things cannot be changed, as well as the fading of faith in change (biblical references include a notional last supper and a discussion about Judas). The characters basically just talk about loss, death and suicide (i.e. the only really serious philosophical problem, according to existentialists). They can laugh at a shared memory (there is a lot of reminiscing about what happened in the previous episodes), but there is no deeper connection between them, which we realise most painfully through Laurie, who, as a trained therapist, is much more sensitive to both her own alienation and that of the others. Thanks to the inventive structure of the narrative, which runs in parallel in two alternating timelines, we see how she processes not only the losses that we already know about, but also one that the storyline has not yet revealed to us, which retrospectively adds credibility to her actions. Add to this the impressive acting performances (which can fully “reverberate” thanks to the long shots) and you get a crushing, grief-inducing experience that, at least in my case, still resonates many hours after the uncompromising conclusion.

Someone finally understood the kind of role that viewers would like to see James Franco play. Unfortunately, it involves the only moment when the film allows itself to be concise. Like Prometheus, Alien: Covenant is torn between an effort to provide first-rate fan service through a return to the horror roots of the first Alien (which is referenced through conspicuous allusions) and the ambition to be epic (with captivating shots like those found in Ford’s westerns) and deep-thinking sci-fi along the lines of Stanley Kubrick (to which it comes closest with its minimalist prologue). Following the formula of a mediocre 1980s (i.e. pre-Scream) slasher flick, with characters making the most basic mistakes (climbing and looking where they shouldn’t, often alone rather than in a group, having sex with each other), it is thus impeded by discussions on chance, fate and creation (Mother and various fathers play a role here), which suffer from the same lack of development as the colonisation storyline. The new Alien is paradoxically a good film until an alien appears in it. It works relatively well until the landing on the alien planet, as it offers a number of possibilities for the direction that the narrative could take and for a long time it isn’t clear which one the filmmakers will take. For example, the conflicts between faith and science, between the captain and Daniels (instead of cross around her neck, she wears a bolt, which comes in handy later) start out promisingly, whereas we see an android playing the flute and reciting Shelley in the second half, which, although fascinating thanks to Fassbender, is a somewhat different theme and a slightly different film. Scott is suddenly much more fascinated by the artificial beings and aliens than by the humans with whom we have spent nearly an hour of the film (however, the pairing-off of the characters doesn’t much help the viewer’s emotional involvement, because for a long time it isn’t clear who is sleeping with whom), and he starts to address all of the complex questions of existence by biting off hands and tearing off heads. This smart-looking film thus becomes a goofy (but entertaining) action-horror B-movie with some rather disgusting gore effects, which I didn't entirely care for, especially thanks to the likeable Katherine Waterston (though an android remains the only well-developed character). Though the new Alien is inventively constructed, looks great and offers one very well-made action scene (with an axe), it comes across as half-baked in most respects, as if there wasn’t time and space to flesh out many of the ideas (I consider the inorganically incorporated flashback, which could have been replaced by dialogue, to be not only an example of tremendous screenwriting laziness, but also a sign that the whole thing could have worked better if the film had paid more heed to the point of view of the reminiscing character). 55%

Ridley Scott prepares his projects with such care that you want to forgive him for how dumb his films sometimes turn out. Furious Gods is another one of Lauzirika’s exhaustive documentaries, focusing in detail on things that you would perhaps rather not know about (anyone who didn’t Google “mole penis” after watching the segment on animal genitalia can cast the first stone). With the optional additional videos, you will spend at least an afternoon (or two evenings) with the filmmakers, which may seem like a much greater deal of attention than Prometheus deserves, but after those four hours, you will probably come to believe that it’s actually not such a bad film. You will encounter molecular gastronomy, Freudian interpretation (the first Alien was about rape, the second about motherhood and Prometheus is about sex) and indications of what a pain in the ass stereoscopic filming is. This is again an exercise in building up the myth of the visionary filmmaker who prefers honest craftsmanship (not CGI) and mainly wants to offer an original story (there is an interesting conflict of opinion between whether Prometheus is supposed to be a stand-alone film, as Scott claims, or the next instalment of the Alien series, as reflected in the statements of most of the actors and collaborators, who are enthusiastic about being part of the celebrated franchise), rather than making a pile of money (in opposition to the studio, which pushes filmmakers to keep the age rating as low as possible in order to maximise profit). It is worth elaborating upon the reasoning as to why Prometheus had to be made, guided in spirit by the auteur theory (Scott’s fetish for strong female characters), and the fan-ish foundation on which the screenplay, written by a pair of relatively young writers who were admirers of the original Alien, is constructed. With respect to the thoroughness with which Scott polishes the narrative in order to make it as fluid and comprehensible as possible, it is a shame that the editing of the film, or rather the shaping of the right final version, did not get more space, but perhaps it simply did not require as much work as, for example, Kingdom of Heaven. But these are all minor issues that do not in any diminish the feeling that you have learned everything essential.

I emphatically recommend that this film not be seen by people suffering from ophidiophobia (because there are a lot of snakes in it, including an incredibly big one) or by video-game designer Dan Vávra (because he might not be able to handle such a politically correct version of medieval England with black and Chinese people and strong female characters). Other gamers, however, might be satisfied with the film, as the hyperkinetic (in other words, terribly chaotic) and almost entirely CGI action scenes, especially the last one, look like an in-game video cut out of an action movie. King Arthur is generally reminiscent of a number of pop-culture products: a music video for an English folk song, a kung-fu movie, a bad 1980s fantasy flick, a good fantasy flick from the aughts, a Monty Python sketch (“This is a table. You sit at it.”), and so on. Due to the many sources of inspiration, the unfocused narrative (even when that lack of focus is not justified by the narrating character’s poor memory), and the constant flitting between ridiculing Arthurian legends and their ultracool, self-absorbed and humourless modernisation for today’s nerds, the film is a terrible, eclectic mess. It doesn’t help much that Guy Ritchie attempted to give it some sort of order by approaching the film as another one of his London gangster flicks. Though the story is not set in the present, but in an alternate Middle Ages with wizards, giant rats and a sword that performs as a weapon of mass destruction, it is otherwise a tediously manneristic variation on something that’s been seen before. We have here a group of nobodies speaking cockney English who act first and think later, whose plan to outwit their opponents goes fatally wrong, a fidgety narrative with a timeline that’s all over the map, a psychopathic villain who does very nasty things to his victims (which, however, will please fans of Reservoir Dogs), and a chase scene filmed partly with GoPro cameras. Ritchie was able to use all of these things more effectively in his previous films, which also managed to get by with a pathos-ridden origin story based on the protagonist frequently having nightmares and fainting. Whereas Tarantino is maturing, Ritchie refuses to grow up, making the same movie again and again, and despite occasional flashes of refreshing creative invention, it mostly feels rather forced in this case. 50%

“You're like Mary Poppins.” Especially during the middle part, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 is more soap opera than space opera, but after the first film, which ended with the founding of the “family”, the shift to family values seems to me like a logical development. In fact, the filmmakers laid the groundwork for the emotionally powerful climax and, sooner or later, most of the motifs that seemingly hold back the narrative are meaningfully brought into play (we know in advance, for example, that little Groot really should not be entrusted with important tasks). At the same time, the narrative of disgruntled parents (both real and surrogate) and unhappy children is in line with the nostalgic tone of the film, which seeks (and finds) its true quality through songs and pop-culture references to the past (just like numerous contemporary Hollywood films enchanted by the 1980s aesthetic). The modern and egotistical treatment à la Minecraft (create your own world) doesn’t work. The search for a place where you will feel good (in the end, of course, it turns out that it’s not the place that matters, but the people) forms the main storyline of the outwardly episodic and, compared to the first instalment (where everything was held together by a single MacGuffin), rather tight narrative. For example, the organisation of the plot through the use of songs from Peter’s cassette tape, or the possibility/impossibility of listening to them, works better. Of course, the film is most entertaining when it doesn’t take itself seriously and makes its disdain for the conventions of superhero mega-films ostentatiously clear to us (the opening action sequence, when we don’t actually see the action, is the funniest one in the whole film). Gunn again tries out ways to approach a massive action scene without it being confusing. He had a somewhat bigger budget to accomplish that, so he could have dispensed with even more (several scenes overtly reference old video games – Space Invaders, Galaga, Pac-Man – and there’s a space variation on the famous air-raid scene from North by Northwest, and a cameo from David Hasselhoff and an allusion to Mary Poppins are incorporated into the epic action climax). Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 is a high-octane summer blockbuster that, thanks to its action sequences, soundtrack and inimitable heroes, retains enough personality to make it stand out among the many, many other comic-book movies and make you forgive it for its greater predictability and occasional loss of pace. 80%

Vulva 3.0 is a documentary about not only vaginas of various shapes and the surgical modification thereof (i.e. labiaplasty), but more generally about women’s relationships to their own bodies, influenced by the demand for perfect shapes according to the standards of the pornography industry. It is a shame that the film, which is divided into several blocks that are not thematically clearly defined (this division rather serves a rhythmic function), strictly adheres to the most commonplace form of exposition (various expert talking heads). Only female circumcision is discussed at length in the last third, which leads to a slowing of the film’s brisk pace. Instead of a build-up, the longest scene, involving the surgical alteration of a vagina, comes at the end and we see almost nothing from it. A confrontation of different opinions in front of the camera would be appropriate, but this happens only indirectly by combining shots with contradictory meanings. In its attempt to discuss the subject from a psychological, aesthetic, mythological and medical point of view, the film does not delve deeply enough in any direction. Due to its pioneering nature, however, it can be forgiven for this, as well as for its lack of focus (due to the overly ambitious scope) and prioritising of the voice of those who reject interference with the natural state of the body. From the perspective of more than just gender studies, this is a rather important documentary, as it attempts to remove the taboo from female genitalia, eliminate preconceived notions of what a “normal” vagina should look like, and give a measure of equality to the penis and vagina.

We Were Rebels is a time-lapse portrait of a former child soldier who returns to South Sudan to help put his country back in order. One man’s story is interspersed with a more general account of South Sudan’s problems, for which the informative intertitles serve particularly well. The socio-political storyline comes across as a mere supplement to the central narrative of returning to the homeland and the film certainly does not stand up as a treatise on the complicated situation in the young African country. Agel’s story would have sufficed for a stand-alone film without the forced overlap into general explanation. It is thus a pity that the director does not elaborate more on this particular theme – the life story of a man who had been trained to kill at a young age.

“You had the female response, which was to go nuclear and try to destroy our family. I’m having the masculine response, which is to bury the pain and jerk off in the basement rather than touch you.” After three seasons, Catastrophe is still one of the funniest, most biting and truthful series about modern relationships, as it takes both the male and female perspectives equally into account. It has superbly written characters, situations taken from real life, and the incredible cadence of one-liners that you will want to write down. If you are interested in what a serious relationship and family life entail, watch Catastrophe so that you know what you are getting into.

The Newburgh Sting provide a knowledgeable look into the case of four Muslims who were allegedly involved in the shooting down of two military aircraft and the bombing of synagogues in the Bronx in 2009. The documentary presents evidence indicating that the FBI had a hand in the event, targeting poor members of the Muslim community, whom they subsequently attempted to draw into a previously prepared plan for a terrorist attack. The capture of these artificial suspects then serves as justification for tightened security measures. The documentary filmmakers raise doubts about the published findings of the investigation and offer their own version of what really happened in Brooklyn in May 2009 and why it happened. The basis of the investigative documentary comprises footage from television news, secret FBI records and covertly taken photographs. The connective tissue that binds the wealth of material together is made up of talking heads including lawyers, relatives and acquaintances, as well as members of the Muslim community. The high informational value of the film makes up for its low aesthetic qualities – the film does not in any way excel formalistically. It’s a shame how one-sidedly this gripping subject is dealt with. Perhaps with the exception of one FBI employee, all of the speakers are convinced that the case involved a miscarriage of justice. The other side is not given enough space and, mainly, their views are not presented with the same emotional urgency. The obvious aim of the film is thus to convince the public that 25-year prison sentences were handed down to innocent men who could not have committed the crime. Despite that, however, it is a remarkable illustration of the lengths to which artificially created and exploited fear of terror can be taken. Among other things, the film exposes some of the “branding” tactics of American security forces and uses a specific case to illustrate a favourite strategy of many world governments – if there is no enemy, it is necessary to invent one.

The first two episodes of season three are the best procedural porn to come along in a long time. If you enjoy watching people fully immersed in their work, you will find yourself in seventh heaven during the scenes with Mike. A large part of both episodes comprises build-ups to some sort of twist/reveal. Like in Tarantino’s recent films, the result is comparably as important as the steps leading up to it and tension results from the constant postponement of what is about to happen. If the rest of the series goes in this direction, as already indicated in the previous season, where there was more actual action than tense waiting for it, I will be maximally satisfied. At the same time, however, it is possible to imagine that this slow-burn method may repel many fans of the much more action-oriented Breaking Bad.