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The journey to a place where the human body dies, in the story of people who knew very well how much they were risking, but still went for it. Nothing more, but certainly nothing less. And even though I don't understand the self-destructive behavior of the main heroes, thanks to the brilliant cast, I feel like I have at least glimpsed beyond the first summit. The intensity with which the highest mountain in the world siccs its pitfalls on climbers nails you to your seat, and the moment a storm appears, the cinema is already shaken to the core and the viewer knows they are in for a rough ride. And every gasp for breath almost hurts in your own lungs.

The forced scenes with bizarre humor have disappeared and leaves only a distinct directorial touch by Elizabeth Banks and, above all, the recognizable face of the entire Pitch Perfect brand. Where the first installment was just clumsily trying to be a relaxed genre flick, the second installment aims much more precisely and gracefully rises above all the obvious clichés of competition films. And it won't be prevented by the unnecessary storyline with Becca on her internship, because Anna Kendrick obviously nails everything. But the real triumph is Rebel Wilson and her unreserved vocabulary. This girl can say literally anything and it still comes out as a memorable gem. Continuing with another film now seems unnecessary to me, because it will be forced to cannibalize itself, but I will gladly take a risk with the Bellas one more time.

Every good bookstore owner loves their customers, because they make their living off of them. Bernard Black is not a good bookstore owner, and he hates his customers with all his heart. Moreover, he rarely tolerates anyone around him, so it's a miracle that his randomly hired subordinate Manny and socially awkward friend Fran are able to navigate his presence without (serious) harm to their health. But thank goodness they can, because with this mismatched trio, the fun is absolutely magnificent. It may not be as skillfully crafted a gem as the series The IT Crowd would become for Graham Linehan a few years later, but that's not even the point. The beefy voice and rubber face of Dylan Moran can elevate even the most overcooked lines into pleasant entertainment, and the best episodes then become a family comedy festival. It's no wonder, then, that more than a decade later, at a time when genuinely funny sitcoms are becoming increasingly rare, Black Books is remembered as a legend.

Season 1 – 90% – The enchanting and captivating story stole me with its premise. Mixing tension in Victorian London with iconic stories from that period and talented actors who shine the most in unexpected scenes – that alone is a million-dollar idea. Adding intriguing characters who become more and more interesting with every episode is a step towards instant addiction, especially when combined with Abel Korzeniowski's intoxicating music. The complex web of Vanessa's fate, meticulously revealed to the viewer, ultimately reaches its destination in a surprisingly straightforward way, only a step away from being rated a masterpiece. Nevertheless, that doesn't change the fact that I will always find my way to Sir Malcolm's house. Season 2 – 100% – A work of art in every sense. At first glance, it seems like a new version of the previous season, but gradually it delves deeper into the emotions and lives of the main characters. With its magnificent art design, it takes the audience to every corner of London, and the flawless performances leave you breathless. Eva Green, Billie Piper, and Rory Kinnear are brilliant in every scene, erasing the boundaries of a typical TV series experience. The second and third perspective introduce so many conflicting feelings that they will resonate within me for a long time. The fight for happiness and the effort to rise after every blow life and our own uniqueness deliver are equally exhaustive and destructive in our lives, even in those where witches and immortals accompany us. Season 3 – 100% – Brilliant dialogue, heart-wrenching music, acting performances on the verge of perfection, and a feeling that this series was perhaps too good to run for many years. The third season revolving around Miss Ives is the essence of everything I love about London at the end of the 19th century, gothic tales, and stories of eternal love. And although I originally stumbled upon this series by chance, it has become my cherished possession and undoubtedly the best series of recent years. This story was written with blood and tears, and a few minutes after the final episode, I know it will live in me forever.

Season 1 – 80% – Pure-blooded, sexually charged, action-packed and no-nonsense. It has everything you would expect, from the good stuff like a main hero with an unbreakable jaw, the revealing of the secret advantages of the eye candy, and the tough one-liners smoothly coming out of the mouths of the local crooks, to the not-so-good stuff, where the most fundamental logic and behavior somehow escape otherwise thoughtful and brilliant characters in many heated situations, not least Sheriff Hood. Nevertheless, I come back to this backwater town, where every other guy is a criminal or a brawler, with great pleasure. Every fight, shootout, chase, or break-in is an audiovisual experience that leaves you no time for criticism. And last but not least, it has been a while since I found the main character of a series as likable as Antony Starr when he walked out of prison. This clearly laid-out struggle between good and evil may be unsteady, but it's hard not to root for it. Season 2 – 85% – Bigger, more mature, and even more action-packed, if that's even possible. What worked before is working even better now, and those I loved before I now welcome on the screen with an even wider smile (Siobhan, Job), while my least favorite Gordon is now completely unbearable. The famed beard that makes the second season better lies in the barely noticeable moments of relaxation when the sheriff reflects on where he came from and where he is headed, and each glass or glance in the rearview mirror brings me a little closer to him. It's just a pity that the behavior of the main characters in the most crucial moments is still unexpected due to hastiness and lack of logic. Thankfully, the series only cares about credibility as a last priority. Season 3 – 80% – A proper action colossus. The mouthfuls the creators are trying to digest in the action realm are becoming more and more substantial, and the proper long first-person action scenes or station raids, for example, are such perfectly crafted moments that I can't even blink and can only think that the inferno of Banshee deserves many more viewers. That said, there are occasional moments that are needlessly overdone or even ridiculously comical (a teenage version of Fight Club and especially the terminator-like qualities of the already sufficiently terrifying Chayton). But it still captures the essence of fun, because the positives are brilliantly breathtaking in their strong moments. The decision that the next season will be the final season is a blessing, though, because there has to be a limit to the reasons Hood would stay in this hellish town. Season 4 – 70% – When main creator Jonathan Tropper humbly announced that coming up with a constantly evolving action series is such hard work that it would be better if everyone leaves at its peak and gives the viewers the most intense season, it sounded great. Considering how straightforward and inventive all the previous seasons had been in reaching their goal, it seemed that this approach couldn't go wrong. But the show shifted towards action, added a lot to the detective investigations, and most importantly, our favorites disappeared from the scripts. Instead of enjoying the final episodes with Sugar, Deva, Proctor, or Job, we are given an abundance of screen time devoted to Calvin Bunker, probably the worst villain in the entire series. As a result, the Banshee swan song gets an above-average rating due to the participation of my beloved Eliza Dushku and a perfectly western-like finale. The amount of stylish departures, heartfelt confessions, and manly tears will stay with me for a long time.

Given the longstanding delays and considerable creative difficulties, I can hardly believe how inventive and lively Ant-Man ultimately turned out to be. The era of comic books on every corner can shine in full force, but Scott Lang and Hank Pym are not ones to suffer from audience saturation. Surprisingly, the script precisely balances action sequences with a non-violent family storyline, and Paul Rudd's natural acting (not to mention his cheery chemistry with Michael Douglas and the rest of the cast) smooths out even the biggest rough edges, such as the shaky and disjointed opening act. Creating a superhero appetizer (not to mention one placed between an Avengers film and a Captain America film) is harder than it seems, which is why I'm truly delighted by its successful start. Especially since this character is tailor-made for future teamwork.

As if made for a trip to the forgotten local cinema, where Italian architecture, old-fashioned form, and a nostalgic soundtrack quickly immerse the viewer. It was Daniel Pemberton's music that transported me to the sixties right from the first notes because this love letter to the divine Ennio Morricone is no rip-off but, fortunately, an honest and completely accurate tribute. Surprisingly, Guy Ritchie remains on the same wave as Sherlock Holmes, but because in practice this mainly translates to deadly exchanges of dialogue between the main duo, I have no problem with that. It just could have used a few more viewers. With its unexpectedly poor turnout, the combination of Henry Cavill's elegance, Armie Hammer's stubbornness, and Alicia Vikander's charm does not bode well for a series.

A life crossroads in the true sense of the word. But only for devout sentimental dreamers who are no strangers to nostalgia. The story of a wandering soul who remembers a kiss with a boy from the band and evenings with freethinking parents, cannot (nor does it try to) offer a dense plot, shocking twists, or anything that the local one-star critics probably expected. It simply offers that crossroads, that indecision, and a few warm memories, and the sadder consequences, which at the age of seventeen seem so significant that you cannot imagine anything greater in your life. For those who can remember themselves at this age, some emotional questions can be burdensome. Love can actually mean Life.

The six actors from my very favorite series, Dollhouse, were too much of a temptation for me to leave this doomed-to-be-forever-forgotten romantic comedy unwatched. And thanks to the precisely fitting soundtrack, the authentic Fran Kranz, and the atmosphere in general, I am very grateful for it. Even in a movie where Enver Gjokaj contends with heart attacks, an eye-opening life truth can jump out at the least expected moment. In scenes with literally just a few gestures the film earns excellent marks.

It's as if I were seeing on the screen my first spies, my first car chase, my first badass fight scene. As if Christopher McQuarrie were in a room I know well, using Ethan Hunt's hand to open a door that has been carefully hidden. And as if beyond  it, a game is afoot from the old school, where there is room for London fog, surprising paraphrases of Casablanca, and in the spirit of the series, even truly impossible missions, above all with a water tank where I was almost holding my breath for the main hero at the end. Before viewing, I didn't have much hope for stepping in the same river a fifth time, so getting up from this ever more appealing team is getting tougher and tougher. Welcome to the IMF.