Lima

Such a nice stylistic exercise, though P.T.A. won't put the script behind a frame. But I had fun and Anderson knows how to work with music as well as Tarantino. And Cooper Hoffman is an acting revelation, man.

With all due respect to Brian Johnson, he’s absolutely no match for AC/DC's original lead singer, the prematurely deceased Bon Scott. Johnson makes everything sound like a fistfight, whereas Scott's voice was incredibly colourful and variable, he had a bluesy feel and could glide smoothly across octaves with a husky voice that was a perfect match for the bombastic rock 'n' roll, and I fully agree with the opinion of renowned music critic Jiří Černý, who in his series in Rock and Pop magazine ranked Scott among the 7 greatest rock voices in history. The only really good album Brian Johnson recorded was “Back In Black”, because it has some great songs thanks to the writing input of Scott, who co-wrote it with Angus, but didn't get to do the vocals. And it was actually Bon Scott who was the leader of all previous major AC/DC albums, whether it was “Highway To Hell”, “Powerage”, “Dirty Deeds Done Don´t Cheap”, or “High Voltage”. I'm terribly sorry that Scott couldn't hold his liquor at a reasonable level and that inhaled vomit killed him in his sleep, and if I had the divine power to give life back to five prematurely deceased rock greats, it would be John Lennon, Janis Joplin, Jimmy Hendrix, the brilliant bassist and songwriter of early Metallica Cliff Burton, and Bon Scott. Let the heavens be easy for them.

An attempt at ambitious horror that doesn’t quite work. For the first hour or so, up until the first murder, it's a great directorial ride with an imaginative composition of shots, a witty timing of scenes (the crocodile from a bird's eye view!) and a top notch casting, all original characters and I loved it all; that long wait for the peak was a five-star job. But then, as the spiral of violence begins, the story winds clichédly along predictable paths, the murders are anything but interesting, though in one West recalls Fulci, and it all culminates in scenes you really don't want to see (gerontophilic sex). It's a film of two halves, and the first one, where it escalates, paradoxically outweighs the second one by a head; sometimes less is more.

Batman as a Fincher-style whodunit for depressed photophobics? I’m in! Finally an adult comic book experience – what a relief after all the one-note Marvel coloring books. And in the words of an advertising slogan for a refreshing drink: "100 percent atmosphere, zero percent cliché!".

This is so heavenly stupid that it's kind of beautiful. This movie is about 60 years late, and that's actually a good thing. I felt like I was watching vintage sci-fi from the 1950s again, only that Roland goes much, much further with the stupidity. In the 1950s, during the Golden Age of science fiction, these pieces were made like Bata's trainers, nothing makes sense to today's viewer, but you still have fun and smile because you can feel the sincere effort to make a good film. Probably like Edward D. Wood Jr. when he was hanging models of flying saucers on string, Roland has the technical side of the craft down pat, but the boys are on the same page in terms of message. Emmerich is a genre on his own. I don’t want to watch it again, but it was a guilty pleasure.

If all those amazing visual ideas, the surprisingly resolved situations and the sweetly over-the-top humour were wrapped in something called a meaningful plot and not a twisted alternate reality pulled out of someone’s ass like from the pen of a drunken Vondruška, I'd be happy. Give Vaughn the next Bond movie, really, the guy's got it.

The films from the Marvel stable are quite watchable if you turn a blind eye, but the expansion of its universe into series is one screw-up after another, with no exceptions. And I've never seen Jeremy Renner so bored, really. He must have breathed a deep sigh of relief when the shooting ended.

I first heard Iron Maiden in the mid-80s on the then Bolshevik-banned Voice of America radio (the equivalent of Free Europe), which ran a regular program about rock music. I think they played title track and it was love at first listen. The next day I went to my metalhead friend who secretly brought their records from Yugoslavia, recorded the first three albums on cassettes, turned on an old Tesla Walkman and it was on. Then I finally sealed my position as a fan of Iron Maiden by sewing a patch of the mascot Eddie on my heavy-metal jersey. Those were nice rock days. My colleague subic writes that this album is only about two hit songs, which I can't agree with. “Number” is full of ideas and I really like the subtle songs that have been played minimally in concerts, like “Gangland” or “The Prisoner”. PS: But I still believe that their best album is the underrated “Somewhere in Time” from 1986. A song like “Alexander the Great” is something you only write once in a lifetime.

According to an emeritus forecaster and collector, the series Nineties discredits the era. So I calmly declare that Václav Klaus should finally go fuck himself and take Filip, Babiš, Faltýnek and the whole castle gang with him. Hopefully, with the arrival of the next generations, perhaps no longer distorted by the opposition treaty and the godfather policy, we will see something better in the future. After all these years of helpless grinding of teeth, I think we deserve it.

Kirk Douglas's performance is as passionate and expressive as Vincent Van Gogh's paintings are passionate and expressive. The film does make a lot up as part of its Hollywood license, but Kirk gets you through it. Also a plus for the cinemascope format, which was not standard in the 50s. I avoid dubbed films and prefer the original version, but here I have no choice but to say that Karel Höger was excellent. Not very valid, the old dubbing in K.M.Walo's time was really good.