Lima

I’m on the side of the women :)

I read an apt observation somewhere that conspiracy theories are like fairytales for adults, with a simple theory and an attempt to find a shortcut to explain complex things. Moore is such a storyteller, engaging and entertaining, but unfortunately he uses exactly the weapons he accuses Bush of using: demagoguery and simplification. An example is his view of the Iraq problem. In a suggestive voice, he declares that Iraq never attacked the US, all to the accompaniment of images of smiling Iraqi women and a small Iraqi boy flying a kite. It gives the impression that Iraq was a happy country before it was invaded and that its invasion was a criminal act. Nice, unfortunately Mr. Moore omitted, surely quite deliberately, a few essential facts: Saddam's dictatorship launched several wars in the Middle East region, invaded Iran, plundered Kuwait, gassed and otherwise slaughtered hundreds of thousands of Kurds, tortured and executed political opponents with the help of the secret police of Saddam's sons Uday and Qusay, who were synonymous with fear for ordinary Iraqis, ignored the call of the UN Security Council some 40 times, etc. The last drop fell, and the US took the initiative, with the embarrassing acquiescence of the traditionally uncooperative UN and EU, to play the role of World Police. Thanks God for that, assholes need to be stopped (Milosevic is a good example). Economic interests are then a logical concomitant, I will always be a hundred times happier to have oil in the hands of democratic states than dictators like Hussein. Another example is Moore's somewhat unfair play on emotions in his portrayal of an American patriot who has lost her son and gives vent to her emotions, full of remorse and tears, in front of the White House. Sure, the death of a loved one is always painful, I felt very sorry for the woman, but to tie that sad fact to the name Bush is kind of beside the point. After all, anyone who volunteers for the army inevitably bears the highest risk, this is simply a reality, sad and cruel, but necessary and valid for armies all over the world. Moore is smart and knows this, of course, but why not be as effective as possible in the political anti-Bush fight, right. I appreciate Moore's lifelong commitment to righting the public wrong, which is why I really liked his Bowling for Columbine, but I don't like being taken for a ride. However, the supporters of the now popular and embarrassingly herd "anti-American" attitude in Europe, the crazy conspiracy theories (the popular opinion that the US government, the CIA, maybe even UFOs were behind the WTC attacks) will be in heaven. Well, to each their own. PS: I'm not much of a fan of conservative Catholic George Bush and his "hawkish" clan with names like Rumsfeld and Wolfovitz, he doesn't seem to have much intelligence and I can imagine plenty of more competent candidates in his place, but that doesn't change my view of the necessary "platoon" role of the US in the world.

In the gravity of its message and in its structure (directly or indirectly intertwining storylines) Syriana is very reminiscent of Traffic, except that director Stephen Gaghan (the screenwriter of both films) has swapped drugs for the strategic commodity around which the whole world revolves, oil. I don't deny that when I first saw it I got lost in the story of the merger of Connex and Killen, in the jumble of names and facts, but the fates of Clooney's CIA agent, Prince Nasser and the two Arab boys were very interesting and captivating nonetheless. Gaghan doesn't mince words, he doesn't spare the CIA, his country's foreign policy ("When a country has five percent of the world's population but does fifty percent of its military spending, then the persuasive powers of that country are on the decline."), he points out corruption, he touches on the issue of Islamic fundamentalism, but the problem is that his narrative comes across as somewhat cold and distant, which may put some viewers off. But I am able to forgive a film that has an idea, an ambition to convey something important and, moreover, you can feel honest filmmaking (cinematography and design with suggestive Arabic realities). PS: Clooney is no longer the one who, in the words of Steven Spielberg, twitches his head like a pigeon, he is pleasantly surprising with his artificially mature expression, he is becoming a great actor.

A stinking turd, painted in garish colours and placed in Kurt Wimmer's freshly created showcase of shit. Not even the forest scent of the "Insight" brand can help here.

Krejčík scores again. At the time, a big hit among young people in this country and in the Eastern Bloc as a whole, it made the young Jana Brejchová an international star. Without any hints of ideology, it’s a testimony of the young generation, which in the post-Stalin era of slowly melting ice can start to take a deep breath of rebelliousness and timidly emerging rock 'n' roll. Outstanding Petr Kostka in his acting debut. The final, optimistic reunion scene was delivered at the instigation of the approvers, despite Krejcik's disapproval.

I’m somehow missing the “genius” of this film. Lots of verbal wadding, punchlines that are easily guessed in advance in most scenes, infantile sexually tinged dialogues (a girl outwitting 36 guys or an attempted self-oral resulting in death certainly didn't tear my diaphragm), even the life observations seem miss the mark. The only thing that was amusing was the presence of the cool Jason Mewes aka Jay and his "dance". I can't even believe that the smart and funny Dogma is by the same creator. PS: Fortunately, the sequel Clerks 2 is considerably better.

It lacks the dance macabre that would be typical of Peckinpah, but his disillusionment with the Wild West era and somewhat peculiar approach to female characters is already apparent. The film gets off to an unexpectedly slow start, but from the moment it arrives at the gold-mining colony it grabs you and doesn't let go. A minor blemish on the beauty was the hard-to-believe sudden change of Gil Westrum's temper into a man of honour at the very end, but otherwise no complaints.

A ride in which you alternately switch from a Trabant to a racing car. However, this unbalanced mix of lengthy workarounds, overstuffed plot and diabolical action is still worth seeing, if only because of the amazing Billy "Davy Jones" Nighy, who proves that even with just the eyes and suggestive voice modulation you can perform miracles.

The infamous historical stage of the "gold-digging" of our Czech dovish characters in the borderlands is of course portrayed somewhat rosy, and it is a bit soaked in a slowly growing ideologisation, but what is most interesting is that 42-year-old Bohuš Záhorský plays a 70-year-old hunched old man and, wonder of wonders, he actually looks seventy. And it was a hit. This inconspicuous and rarely shown film today was seen by 2.5 million people in its time.

Renč proves that he’s a skilled craftsman and the right person behind the camera (brisk direction, fine cinematography and soundtrack), but the word “caricature” comes to mind in connection with Viewegh's script. First of all, a caricature of humour as such. It seems like a funny and apt pedestal for women and a kind of execution ground for men (they are are reduced to a kind of "domestic necessity", individuals whose crumbs fall disgustingly out of their mouths when they eat, good-natured bozos, superficial, narrow-minded prudes, caricatures of masculinity, or sluts who need to be castrated), but in the end it subtly demeans both. Its concept of interpersonal relationships makes one almost sad. It glorifies the hen who "....was angry when no one cared for her, but when someone did, she immediately looked elsewhere to see where she can spread her legs." (quote from my girlfriend). I won't deny that some women find this probe into the superficial "Cosmopolitan Universe" extremely satisfying, but for me it was an hour and a half of agony. PS: Něrgešová is a terrible actress!!!