lamps

I don't want to exaggerate, but immediately after finishing the first season of Fargo, I have a nagging feeling that I've never seen anything so brilliantly erratic, entertaining and exciting in my life (and I'm a pretty big fan of Brazzers). This series, which I consumed in one day like a beer with dinner, proved several things: a) that Billy Bob Thornton is definitely one of the best actors of his generation and, even though he plays a role that is essentially twisted, I had my fingers crossed for him more than I do for myself on a date; b) that the setting in this delightful satirical spectacle plays so chillingly convincingly that it alone deserves all the Golden Globes (and that it’s a prime example of how to work with setting in film); and c) that these days, if someone has an excellent premise, they shouldn't turn it into one feature film, but go on TV and conjure up a similar ten-hour extravaganza.... Until now, I wouldn't have thought I'd ever see Martin Freeman gradually turn into the cold-blooded killer, but it was simply brilliant and, in the sum of all formal aspects, actually believable. The first episode is pure gold. 100%

A nearly perfect subversive version of Ocean’s Eleven that goes about it in a different way than you'd expect. The main characters claim to be morons, and they are not very far from it, but they find themselves in a story where everybody is a moron, so they don't have to outsmart any motherfucking big boss, which nobody would buy, but only outsmart themselves and thus the viewer. Those expecting a stylized diamond robbery with an elaborate heist will be disappointed; this is "only" a cleverly constructed narrative with its own rules, where Soderbergh humorously departs from the expected patterns and enriches the main storyline with surprising twists and themes. The only problems of the brawny bunch during the heist are neither incompetent security nor electronic defence systems, but only their own stubbornness, and the experienced director surprises the viewer even in the end, when after a quickly edited passage from the heist he switches to the expected epilogue, which both reverses the previous impression of the robbers' idiocy with a classical explanation of the unrevealed events of the plot, and introduces the character of the investigator, who, despite the lack of evidence, is not about to give up and leaves the ending relatively open (and even before that, paradoxically, dismisses the only possible witness). And why did I say it’s almost perfect? Because, as much as the whole works admirably and twists expectations beautifully, I often felt an underdevelopment from the individual motifs and especially the dialogue. If more work had been done on the verbal jokes and the ending hadn't slowed down the pace so much, I would have been thrilled.

It's an old song, but I found it to be quite true and I'll briefly repeat it: the first episode resembles a mediocre student film in content, the second one clumsily tries to build up the situation with some cool dialogue and has nothing to say, the third one is a lot of fun with Banderas's performance and a very funny punchline to the final joke, and the fourth one is an above average scene from any Tarantino feature, ending with one of the funniest moments of his entire career. Something like a somewhat routine hotel tour, where each floor represents a higher level of directorial talent, and in sum, it's just enough for 3*.

Once again, one can't help but marvel at how far the production of TV series has come in recent years. A beautifully constructed narrative process with awesome actors and a swashbuckling retro coat that never overwhelms the viewer, but keeps them constantly and subtly on edge. Every episode relies on a different formal dominance (from the rhythmic alternation of multiple storylines to their imaginative overlapping to playing with time or documentary elements), and I outrageously enjoyed the shifting approach to the characters, which allowed for the incorporation of personal levels without distracting too much from the trial itself (the initially pragmatic and cynical lawyer is the most emotional and fully fleshed-out character by the end). We are constantly given crucial information and motivational threads, but the funny thing is that they often only start to make sense after a few episodes, when the viewer is already processing dozens of other and equally important cues. But the symbolic musical background and the aforementioned casting are also great – it's been long since I've seen actors impersonate real protagonists so grandly (ironically, except for Gooding, who doesn't look much like Simpson – but he's excellent), and it's been even longer since I've watched Travolta enjoy a role like this. I really wish I could watch it without knowing the verdict in advance, because it would fry me emotionally like an earthworm in the sun. But still, the best courtroom drama ever made, The Rainmaker or The Nuremberg Trial notwithstanding.

Testosterone and silicone packed and a pointlessly long showcase of boorish humour worthy only of the popular four letter swear word. I saw (or wished to see) great potential in it, but instead of the creators casually poking fun at the show's naive stupidity and showering us with catchphrases and cameos for an hour and a half, they oscillate for two hours on the surface of a dull detective plot and the most cringeworthy buddy comedy ever to hit theatres. If Johnson had been alive in the 1950s, he would have played at most the second henchman to the bad guy in an Ed Wood movie; today, his iconisation subordinates the entire narrative of a presumed hit that could have had such an all-encompassing parodic feel. Ironically, it's his few scenes with the heartthrob Efron that keep it afloat, at least on the level of episodic humour. This has failed miserably, with only the physical equipment of Alexandra Daddario asking for a much better hit – inaccessible of course. 40%

When you want to get rid of your girlfriend without getting your hands dirty, tell her to go for a swim in the Black Lagoon. There's a nasty stalker waiting there, with membranes and gills, who may appreciate her more than you do. The film is decently narrated, has a good pace, fairly solid dialogue and a very endearing ecological overlay that interestingly and timelessly puts the monster in the role of the main character (which viewers at the time certainly didn't realize). People behave like pigs in nature, disturbing his household, and so the fish man begins to destroy them without question and still strives for a nice trophy in a swimsuit. And I enjoy it, because Arnold quite skilfully varies the roles of the hunter and the hunted, creating a relentless tangle of 50s fooling around with funny monsters, accompanied by ridiculously effective music and underlined by poorly drawn characters. The last twenty minutes are unfortunately very unimaginative and boring, the rest is quality guilty pleasure.

If the first half was a bit more visually dynamic and psychologically packed, the film would be worthy of 4*. It cannot be compared to Spielberg's remake, which much more intensely reflects the feelings of despair and hysteria in the face of a terrifying enemy, but this classic also manages very skilfully to guide the attention on multiple plot levels, which converge in the end into a depressing depiction of total chaos and despair. I admit that at the time when it came out, I wouldn't have slept for about five days and would have drunk myself to sleep the rest of the month, but nowadays, unfortunately, it has no punch and at times it lacks both in the spatial distribution of scenes and their logic. And there are other contemporary science fiction films that have not yet suffered this decline. 65%

No other film has been able to portray the sheer terror of confronting an unknown alien enemy like War of the Worlds. A nightmare with superb editing and glorious sound design, whose overwhelming aura of hopelessness and the defencelessness of the characters in a terrible situation is unpredictable and makes it a strong candidate for the best blockbuster of its decade. The pace is thrilling and some of the scenes are chilling not only because of their virtuoso audiovisuals, but also because of their strong humane subtext (the scene of the car being attacked by a mad mob is the film's most moving moment), which makes even more disappointing the slightly unfinished ending, when the level of horror and depression, culminating in the sequence with Tim Robbins, begins to stagnate and is replaced by the mandatory, but nonetheless annoying, family pathos. I don't agree with the general hate of the hysterical Dakota, which on the contrary is very important to Spielberg's cunning intent to exhaust and terrify audiences of all ages, but on the other hand, it's true that there’s no other film that will make guys be so eager to never have children and appreciate the subtle allure of condoms. If this was Steven's intention, then I'd throw in a fifth star. 85%

After a seven-year hiatus, this peculiar dispenser of divine justice returns in a fairly routine sequel whose most likeable aspect is the vigour and ambition with which it recycles everything previously seen, including the emphasis on a final twist that turns the plot's course not on its head but literally inside out. Unlike the horribly messy third part, which I wish had ended the series, this episode makes a lot of sense and the last sequence rewrites the plot in a way that I didn't object to at all and that takes the logic of the narrative to an acceptable level this time. But in order to reach at least partially the level of the first part, the initial pace shouldn't be so sleepy, the characters so monotonous from the first scenes, and the violence so unrealistic and not very bold. And the omniscient killer and the narrative based more or less on a series of coincidences (although this time straightened by a twist), it's downright awful. 55%

At one end of the spectrum of violence in cinema we have sunday morning children shows and at the other ....... er, Tokyo Gore Police. I've seen films like Ichy The Killer and I've long held the opinion that many Japanese filmmakers are sick and twisted assholes addicted to soft porn, but this is just a schmaltzy bloody mess par excellence. The story is supposed to be some sort of social critique and a parody of expected narrative conventions, but nobody is interested in that at all and only unrestrained brutality and morbid exaggeration are brought to the fore. Although Nishimura rips off what he can, he does so out of pure love for the famous works of Verhoeven, Cronenberg and co, and what's more, sometimes he comes up with a really spicy and funny idea. Most of it, however, is just a pretty boring series of chopping, biting, shooting, cutting and tearing, and in the moments when the film wants to strike a more civil and serious note, it comes off as ridiculous as a guy shooting a mutant penis. There's no doubt that overall it's a retarded monstrosity with terrible dialogue and humour for the slightly mentally ill, but I can't give it less than 2* for the few great gore moments and the aggressive soundtrack. It wants to be guilty pleasure, and if the viewer can justify their own depravity while watching it, it's actually more fun than Rodriguez's Planet Terror. I had the special opportunity to see it in the cinema, I will never see so much red again.