Matty

Chained for Life is a film about making a film, a contemporary arthouse horror movie with physically disabled characters (the title refers to the exploitation film Chained for Life from 1952). In addition to “normal” actors, the filmmakers decide to cast actors with the required physical disabilities. The lead actress becomes friends with the man with a deformed face who plays her lover. However, it is not clear whether her feelings are authentic or if she is only pretending in order to make herself look like a better person. We can ask the same question about the other actors. The boundary between the story in front of the camera and the story behind the camera gradually becomes blurred, the transitions between filming and being filmed become less and less obvious. Through adroitly directed, long, fragmented shots using self-reflexive drama (with elements of horror satire), the film endeavours to truly capture the experience of disfigured artists (the director himself has a deformed face). It does not attempt to portray them in an overly positive light according to the usual narrative formula of a monster with a good heart, thanks to which the beautiful lady realises in what the true value of a person consists. All characters have physical or character defects and it is not possible to anticipate how they will behave toward each other. In this way, the film beneficially and inspirationally deconstructs certain stereotypes associated with how someone looks and reflects the extent to which our perception of people who are physically different is influenced by their established media representation. 75%

My immediate impression of this film was manifested in one of the first names to appear in the closing credits: Philip Nee Nee. Everything important happens in roughly the last fifteen minutes, which are preceded by an hour and a half of hopeless advertisements for wedding dresses, Paris, Audi, men’s shirts, vanilla ice cream, Aspen, sex toys...hollow narration for snobs. Through most of the movie, the only suffering incurred by the protagonists, who are so wealthy that they shop in boutiques where they are served champagne as they pick out clothes, is whether they will make the evening more pleasant with a butt plug, a vibrator or a whip. Instead of Dornan working out on gymnastic equipment, here we have – for lovers of camp – Dornan singing at the piano (this time, unfortunately, we don’t see a poster for a movie like The Chronicles of Riddick). Otherwise, everything between the central couple remains as it was. Anastasia has problems and doesn’t listen. Christian punishes her, which she sometimes likes and sometimes doesn’t. All disagreements in the relationship are resolved by means of expensive gifts. Despite all of that, this particular Fifty Shades is slightly more tolerable than the second instalment in the series, which was ten minutes longer and far more obstinate in its disrespect for storytelling logic and causality between scenes. Though I would not in any case call this art, I find it extraordinary that someone can write and make a film that is so empty that there is nothing in it that you could hate. But it looks good and your brain can comfortably relax. 35%

Polish folk songs were never so sexy. Besides that, Pawlikovski’s balladic overview of the history of music and of Europe captivated me with its high-contrast black-and-white camera work and highly economical storytelling with sharp cuts, sudden jumps in time and numerous meanings communicated via the mise-en-scène without verbal explanation, thanks to which the film is able to cover some fifteen years of history in just under ninety minutes. At the same time, the atmosphere remains consistent, while the musical style changes along with the degree of frustration felt by the protagonists, who still do not have that which they desire. Cold War is obviously a film under the spell of post-war European cinema (in addition to its academic format, this is also apparent in the number of European countries and languages represented) – not by any means only Soviet-style musicals such as Tomorrow, People Will Be Dancing Everywhere against which it is critically defined – with which it has much more in common than with reality. At the same time, however, the plot is complicated and lovers are separated by the political repression of the time that discomfited artists in communist countries had to face. The major simplification of socio-political contexts, psychological flatness of the characters and bold stylisation serve well the timeless fatalistic story of unrequited love (in whose case it does not matter too much that we are watching only certain [arche]types instead of full-blooded heroes), but as a statement on a particular time and the people of that particular time, which it also wants to be, Cold War fails for the same reason. But if you want to see a very obliging art film that does not put numerous obstacles in the viewer’s way, it is unlikely that you will see anything nicer in the cinemas. 70%

Deadpool 2 is a touching family melodrama about the importance of traditional values, with a hero who wants to kill himself most of the time, vomiting acid and brutal action scenes accompanied by dubstep or Enya (decide for yourself which is worse). It is as comparably entertaining as the first one, though at the same time darker and more layered emotionally and in terms of storytelling. ___ Retrospectively (like a large part of the first instalment) only the first 20 minutes or so are narrated, after which film-noir turns into a buddy movie (from prison). Only the second half is a superhero team flick (Rob Delaney as Peter deserves a spin-off). The protagonist’s objective and the role of the villain (again played by the excellent Josh “Thanos” Brolin), who arrives on the scene relatively late, unexpectedly change several times. Everything is connected by the melodramatic background with the late/impossible reunion and (re)construction of the family. This primarily involves the main protagonist’s inner conflict, not the destruction of the world as in other comic-book movies. Therefore, I was not bothered by the numerous entirely serious scenes without self-deprecating humour (besides, if you have one of the characters refer to the screenwriter as an imbecile after some bad dialogue, nothing about that bad dialogue changes). Thanks to those scenes, you take the characters more seriously than they take themselves and the conclusion stimulates the right emotions (in this respect, Deadpool is more self-sufficient than Infinity War – in order for you to be moved, you do not have to know the preceding 18 films; you only have to know what you have seen over the past two hours). ___ The best bits are the opening credits parodying Bond movies, the post-credit scenes (or rather mid-credit scenes, as nothing remains after the closing credits) and jokes that truthfully call out the shortcomings of comic-book films that lack good humour, something with which Deadpool abounds. Besides the competition from DC, this is again captured mainly by X-Men, referred to as an outdated, gender-incorrect metaphor of racism from the 1960s. Conversely, it freezes routine action scenes with confusing editing (with the exception of a few more fluid moments, which with their choreography bring John Wick to mind), which, as in the case of most major productions of this type, was probably not under the control of the director himself, but of the second unit (and subsequently the people in charge of CGI). ___ Despite that, Deadpool 2 is very good summer entertainment whose creators managed to come up with enough ways to surprise us both with content and with the construction of the story and by using the conventions of various genres even without the possibility of somehow repeating the “wow effect” of the first film from beginning to end. 80%

Jake Hannaford, a passionate hunter of Irish descent, as well as a chauvinist and racist, is not so much an alter ego of Welles as he is of John Huston. The Other Side of the Wind captures the last days of classic Hollywood, or rather the decline of the world represented by macho Huston-type patriarchs. Because of her indigenous origins, Hannaford sees the lead actress of his film as an exotic exhibit and mockingly calls her “Pocahontas”. The actress initially reacts with hateful looks and later vents her frustration by shooting at figurines. Hannaford’s publicist, based on film critic Pauline Kael (who couldn’t stand Welles), is not reluctant to engage in open verbal confrontation with the director when she repeatedly points out the macho posturing that he hides behind. The women defend themselves and the men are not happy about it. ___ By giving the female characters more space and enabling them to give expression to their sexuality, Welles comes to term not only with Hollywood, but also with his own legacy. Like late-period John Ford, whom Welles greatly admired, he critically reassesses the themes of his earlier films. At the same time, however, doubts arise as to whether the way in which Oja Kodar’s character is presented in Hannaford’s film (sexually aggressive, captivating an inexperienced male protagonist) also says something about Welles. ___ Hannaford's unfinished magnum opus is clearly a parody of the works of American filmmakers who during the New Hollywood era responded diligently to European works by shooting pretentious and incoherent would-be art films packed with eroticism and conspicuous symbolism. More or less naked, beautiful and young actors wordlessly wander around each other in dreamlike interiors and exteriors. It doesn’t seem to matter that the characters don’t follow the sequences of Hannaford’s film in the right order (if anyone actually has any idea what the order is supposed to be). As Welles divulged in an interview, he shot the film with a mask on, as if he wasn’t himself. Therefore, why should we associate with him what Hannaford’s work says about women and female sexuality? ___ The parodic imitative style, which was not peculiar to Welles, was due also to the raw, intentionally imperfect hand-held shots from a party, reminiscent of the then fashionable cinema-verité. Completed long after Welles’s death, the film is basically a combination of two styles that Welles would not have employed. The question of who Jake Hannaford was (like the question of who Charles Foster Kane was in Citizen Kane) is less relevant in this context than the question of who the creator is and who is imitating whom, which Welles quite urgently asks in the mockumentary F for Fake, which, with its fragmentary style, has the most in common with The Other Side of the Wind. ___ For example, Peter Bogdanovich, who was considered to be an imitator of Welles in the 1970s, plays Hannaford’s most diligent plagiarist in the film. The defining of his character through imitation of someone else, however, is done ad absurdum, when he occasionally begins to imitate James Cagney or John Wayne in interviews with journalists. Though Welles incorporates media images of influential figures into his film, he also ridicules them as improbable and untruthful. All of these contradictions could be part of an effort to offer, instead of the retelling of one person’s life story, an expression of doubtfulness about the ability to recognise who someone really is. ___ Though, thanks to Netflix, Welles’s film can theoretically be seen by far more viewers than would have been possible at the time of its creation, the manner of its presentation by the streaming company recalls a moment from Hannaford’s party, when the producer lays down reels of film and says to those interested in a screening, “Here it is if anybody wants to see it”. Netflix helped to finish the film and raised its cultural capital by presenting it at a prestigious festival, and then more or less abandoned it, as if cinephiles who love more demanding older films were not a sufficiently attractive audience segment. ___ With Welles’s involvement, the film, which was completed 48 years after it was started, would have perhaps been more coherent, had a more balanced rhythm and conveyed a less ambiguous message. At the same time, however, all of its imperfections draw our attention to its compilation-like nature, or rather the convoluted circumstances of its creation – we think about who is in charge of the work, who created it (perhaps Jake Hannaford, whose “Cut!” is heard after the closing credits) and what it says about him, which was probably Welles’s intention. The Other Side of the Wind is a good promise of a great film. 80%

In his belated feature-film directorial debut, former film critic and documentary filmmaker Kent Jones offers a sensitive character study of a working woman from a small city who forgets to take care of herself as you she takes care of others. With every scene, this long-resonating, stylistically unobtrusive film is remarkably rich in meaning. Diane relies on a highly subjective narrative, the director’s sense of detail and the deeply felt acting of Mary Kay Place, which strengthens our affinity for the main protagonist while contributing to doubtfulness with respect to her mental health. The film is also valuable due to the matter-of-factness with which it states that at the end of our life story, no major point will be revealed, but only death in loneliness. 80%

The Good Death is a documentary portrait of an English woman who intends to undergo euthanasia. Seventy-two-year-old Janet does not want to wait until her unfortunate health condition, caused by hereditary muscular dystrophy, deteriorates to such an extent that she becomes completely legally incompetent. She would lose the ability to make her own decisions supported by clear, rational arguments. She is not afraid of death. She has accepted it just as she previously accepted her illness and the fact that life is not fair and that it is necessary to deal with it in accordance with her current options (unfortunately, the film does not elaborate on the fact that not everyone in her situation has the same options and a "good" death is a kind of privilege, but I understand that such an exploration would be a detour from the direction in which the film’s attention is focused). While Janet determinedly and resignedly approaches the day when the pentobarbital solution will end her suffering, we follow in parallel the story of her son, who suffers from the same disease and anticipates the same fate.___Despite the apparent similarities in the way both social actors are filmed, however, her son’s storyline is more hopeful, as Simon is involved in research that could lead to the discovery of treatments for the currently incurable disease. The impressive visual concept, the use of contrasts and parallels, the heroine’s poetic off-screen commentary and the unforced mise-en-scène to illuminate Janet’s previous life keep the film in the space between procedural drama and open-minded consideration of how death is “natural” (two religious commentaries on euthanasia were typically included in the film – according to one, God should decide on our existence and non-existence; according to the other, God does not want us to suffer and it is therefore acceptable if we decide to end our own lives). Despite the occasional intensification of the melodramatic level through the use of mournful music and the aestheticisation of actions connected with one’s final affairs, the film does not resort to the exploitation of human misery. It is shot with great humility and understanding both for those who have decided to leave and for those who remain. 70%

In its ability to capture the importance of a certain moment in a young person's life, Eighth Grade is as comparably convincing, sincere and unsentimental as Call Me By Your Name (the monologue delivered by the character of the father also ranks among the highlights of both films). Don’t expect a teen comedy. The film is mainly a drama, sporadically sensitive in its approach to the main heroine and occasionally humorous. Many films merely talk about the need to be oneself. Eight Grade understands that need and shows how terribly difficult it is to accept oneself, to overcome the fear of being embarrassed, of not being cool enough. Age does not play such a role. Some people still experience a battle between their nature and peer pressure even after reaching adulthood. Burnham’s feel for the nuances of the life of the socially anxious internet generation and his understanding for one slightly timid girl of above-average intelligence are exceptional and I hope that he will make more empathetic portraits of young protagonists like this one (or Lady Bird, The Edge of Seventeen or The Diary of a Teenage Girl). This is a film with which I definitely want to spend more time and appreciate more how it involves the soundtrack in the storytelling and how cleverly it works with, for example, the interaction of the main protagonist and her surrounding environment (by means of subjective sound and the size and sharpness of the shots), thanks to which we perceive and experience the surrounding reality just as she does. And, without any exaggeration, Elsie Fisher should be nominated for an Oscar. 90%

I was afraid that Flint Town would be a recruitment video heroizing the American police and celebrating their militarisation. However, the image that the series offers is more complex than that and testifies to the creators’ ambition to shoot something like a documentary version of The Wire. ___ Over the course of eight episodes, we follow an underfunded police department in a city with one of the highest crime rates in the United States. Members of the force speak openly about their fatigue, disillusionment and fear of losing their lives and jobs. Their loved ones also fear for the cops’ lives due to the growing number of attacks on police officers. Locals, who face guys with loaded rifles strolling around courtyards, from which they sometimes shoot, then complain that they often have to wait for several hours for a police patrol, because shooting was reported at three other locations at the same time. The community’s mistrust makes sense, but we see that individuals will not change much without support from those in higher positions of power. ___ The behaviour of the officers in the field occasionally borders on unjustified bullying and the documentary does not in any way makes excuses for them. At the same time, however, we understand their heightened vigilance and we know that they are poorly paid and have to work overtime. The police chief attempts to prevent the further deterioration of the already restricted conditions by all possible means, for example by selling discarded police weapons to Flint residents with valid gun licenses, which is a decision that probably best illustrates the absurdity and cyclical nature of the crime problem… The presidential election (the series began production in November 2015) is approaching, and while the “white” segment of the police force hopes for a Trump victory, which they expect to bring greater investment in the repressive apparatus, the black police officers wonder for whom Trump actually wants to make America “great again”. ___ A large part of the material was shot at night; the cameraman delights in grand details and artistic compositions with an orange night sky and figures standing alone in the landscape, ominous atmospheric music plays in the background, and we hear the heartbeat of a cop’s unborn child. At times, it is reminiscent of Michael Mann’s noir thrillers; at other times, it brings to mind an apocalyptic horror movie about a city that is just waiting for someone to set it ablaze. In some ways, Flint Town is excessively tense, but it is in any case an impressive and beneficial work that, overall, adroitly balances on the thin ice and attempts not to anger either conservative or liberals too much.

I was quite irritated that the narrative has almost no order and constantly jumps between films and topics (and the shots of Friedkin’s appearances at various festivals are randomly inserted into it). The commentary of the crowd of celebrities contributes to the distraction and does not provide much that is beneficial. If the director had simply sat Friedkin down in a chair and let him talk for an hour and a half about his life and career (i.e. the model successfully applied to the documentary De Palma), we would have learned more. At the same time, the entertainment element and briskness of the narrative would not have had to suffer from this, as Friedkin is a pleasure to listen to for his impudence, (film) erudition and supply of humorous stories from filming (and he obviously likes to listen to himself, even if he is not too infatuated with himself to appreciate someone else’s talent – for example, the best American director today is, in his opinion, a woman, Kathryn Bigelow). I appreciate the fact that the film (mostly) does not unnecessarily repeat the information known from earlier documentaries about the shooting of The Exorcist or The French Connection, and attempts to reveal lesser-known facts. On the other hand, it is regrettable that it does not give more space to other, more obscure projects, not only the documentary The People vs. Paul Crump, which together with television training pushed Friedkin toward a veristic way of shooting and an emphasis on authenticity and immediacy at the expense of elegance (the first take is fine, even though the whole crew can inadvertently be seen in reflection in the shot, because “who gives a fuck”). ___ Of the many memorable quotes of a filmmaker who is likable for his casualness and the fact that he rarely bothered with what was appropriate (whether in public statements or narrative conventions), I would have at least this inscribed: “Nobody can top Buster Keaton.” 75%