Semisonic Reviews

Dune: Part Two (2024)

Up there with Aliens, Terminator 2 and The Empire Strikes Back as the best sequel of all time

[9/10 · 26 April 2024]

Iconic books are notoriously difficult to adapt for the screen. If you've read the book, you'll most likely be blaming the film for not matching the way you imagined things to be. If you haven't, some things might look bizarre or incomplete. Either way, the filmmakers will be to blame.

Well, today I can honestly say that I haven't read the Dune books, and that I'm not even bothered, for the film blew me away.

The anticlimactic first part did a great job at setting the stage and giving us a taste of a mysterious and unforgiving world. Many things didn't make much sense and were just left unexplained. Dune Part One is still very much an enjoyable film, and its atmosphere and characters definitely leave a lasting impression. But it did feel a bit like a slow cooker, with more than two hours of screen time only taking you to some battle scenes, a few half-pronounced conspiracies and the forbidden "I should call her" moment.

Yes, it was exciting. But only as a promise of a future climax. Now, two and a half years later, we can finally see what mighty brew that slow cooker has been mulling. And oh boy does that brew hit hard!

Things are now more simple and direct. It's not always clear whether they make sense, but it doesn't matter anymore. Spice must flow, and so does the story of our unlikely hero Paul Muad'dib Atreides. We knew he was destined for greatness, and now we can see how that's going to be achieved. There are still intrigues and mind games, but they leave the shadows and now unfold in plain sight. Which actually doesn't feel plain or boring, it feels just right. As it was written.

There's no point describing or alluding to what exactly this film shows, as that's why films are made - to be watched. What's important to mention is that, based on what I read online on various Dune wikis and fan sites, the underlying lore and book material seems to be hardcore nerd stuff, something so convoluted and massive that there might be an extremely long and complex PhD programme dedicated to studying history of the Dune universe.

So for the first time I'm actually grateful that the film takes its own path and does away with that extra complexity, focusing instead on a powerful main story and a few extra details to give it enough juice to keep even the most drowsy and sleepy of us on the edge of their seats. A potent mix of aesthetic excellence, fast-paced action and the visceral energy of the Chalamet/Zendaya duo, one roaring defiant speeches and the other furrowing equally defiant eyebrows, with the rest of the cast forming a solid and dynamic backdrop to their love dance, energises, captivates and may even cause visions of the future with the anticipation of Part Three in it.

But, regardless of what may lie or not lie ahead, Dune Part Two is not just a prologue to something else, even though an obvious announcement is made in the dying seconds of the film. It is utterly satisfying all in itself, to the point when I don't even care whether this franchise continues at all. A certain character once yelled to its audience, "Are you not entertained?", and when it comes to this film, I can just say that I am.

Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022)

All that we are, on a single bagel

[10/10 · 14 March 2024]

It felt like the best film of the 21nd century a year ago, and it still does. Surrounded by things of cosmic scale and greeted by infinities and singularities, it is a breath of fresh air to be seen for what we are - just specks of dust with no more than a few moments in time when it all makes sense.

Everything Everywhere All at Once - it's more than just a catchy name. It's what this film makes you feel and experience. Like an emotional therapy session, it uncovers everything that you try to ignore or ridicule or push away in your life. All the confusion, anger, sadness and loneliness that we've lived through and decided to brush off as the necessary price to pay for this journey of existence.

I see this film as the biggest "I feel seen" moment of the Gen X and Millennial generation. Trapped between the rigidity of the boomer era and cryptic nature of Gen Z, we may think that we're the only ones who understand what's really going on. And yet we're as lost as anyone else, and while we recognise the need to discover ourselves and to acknowledge the toxic legacy we took in through generational trauma, we're just as clueless when it comes to not letting it go further down the line.

When Christopher Nolan mixed that message of "love is the strongest force in the universe" into Interstellar, I found it pathetic and absolutely out of place. Yet now, years since, it's so clear that no matter what universe we belong to and what circumstances carry us, the only language that unites us all is the language of kindness. Kindness to all that comes your way. Even when it hurts. And, just like one year ago when I cried my eyes out watching this film for the first time, when the credits start rolling I find myself feeling inner peace. And hope. Hope that, even though life is a messy ride through all that noise, and even though you have no idea where you'll end up, it's still okay, and you're not alone in your struggle.

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (2023)

Visually breathtaking dopamine hack

[8/10 · 29 December 2023]

I can't remember who let the jinn out of the bottle for the first time with this multiverse extravaganza, but it's definitely the biggest cinematic trait of late. Everything Everywhere All at Once quite capitalised on it last Oscars season, so it's no surprise that the latest Spider-Man animated feature, which used the same tricks first, but maybe in a slightly more shambolic manner, is upping the ante.

What used to be more of an acid trip back in 2018, is now a coherently crazy experience amplified 1000 times. Bearing traces of heavy influence from cyberpunk anime genre, Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse is one hell of a never ending whirlwind of flickering coloured specks and hard beats. Multiply it by a variety of cultural references, a dozen different graphic styles and several languages changing fluidly into one another - and you'll end up with an absolute bomb that will blow your mind, in all ways good and bad.

Visually, this film is a masterpiece. At least in the "we've never seen anything like it" sense. Yep, it's innovative, and probably not as vertigo-inducing as the first part, despite a sickening amount of action. It still doesn't make it easy to follow what's going on, but somehow the film retains your engagement, so you just go with the flow. And that's probably the biggest achievement for something that's quite chaotic and sensory overstimulating.

Still, it feels like by overloading our senses with anime-like extremes, Spider-Man bypasses our prefrontal cortex and goes directly to "the TikTok brain" that's easily captivated by shiny moving things. So we end up having zero complaints eating subpar dialogues, classic cheap tricks like driving tension by artificially induced miscommunication, or single-agenda characters that follow their prescribed paths without deviation natural to real human beings.

I can't deny that it felt good watching this film. But I am left with a tingling concern that it wasn't due to the complexity of emotions or a wide gamut of thoughts that it made us experience, but simply because our brains produced lots of happy chemicals in response to this sensory DDoS attack. Which, technically, is an achievement akin to the discovery of LSD, profound in its influence on the world. But, as with any real world drug, it makes you wonder: can feelings alone be trusted when evaluating the whole experience?

Modern problems require modern solutions. Whether we like it or not, films like this one open a portal to a new era of cinema. Let's see what awaits on the other side.

Andor (2022– )

There is a new force in the Galaxy

[10/10 · 26 January 2023]

What is Star Wars? The Jedi, lightsabers, fighter spaceships that go rrrrrrr? This is the way. Or so it was.

Andor is, without any unjustified superlatives, redefining the rules as we know them. It takes things that we never thought of. Puts them under a magnifying glass. And zooms in, until this galaxy far far away and long time ago starts making sense.

What we were used to was a space rodeo. Planet A, planet B, a hyperspace jump here, a skirmish there. The same bunch of characters sliding through a plot as straight as a laser beam. Almost like a video game. Meanwhile, the Empire is huge, it's colossal, but this colossus is hollow, eager to implode as soon as the magic spell "Use the Force Luke" is uttered. Entire planets blow up in seconds, never to be remembered - and nobody bats an eye.

Have you ever wished it was a tad more complex? A tad less fast-paced, a tad more nuanced? Less whimsical than Ewoks jumping. Less sugary than Baby Yoda cooing. I have. And today my wish has been granted.

Andor starts as a story of a no-name guy looking for his sister. And by the end of the first season we're neck deep in political intrigue, family drama, bitter duty that takes people on both sides of the eternal moral rift on epic crusades. We see love, loss, despair, conviction, we hear political speeches, whispers of intrigue, and, the most important of them all, a crunch of Imperial cereal and nagging of Imperial officers' mothers.

This is what Star Wars never dared to do before. In a galaxy so vast and with the main story so epic, we never got to see how security officers of some Imperial mining company bide their free time. How people deal with petty bureaucracy. How those silly retrofuturistic devices make sense within the confinement of someone's house. We only looked at the big picture, and the rest remained a backdrop. Mostly half-arsed and phony.

This time, we forget about the big picture. Emperor doesn't matter. Deathstar doesn't matter. We may hear about them, but they remain almost a myth. What we focus on, instead, is small (or not so much) people doing their business. Not just along the main plotline, but everywhere. The Galaxy becomes alive. And the Empire becomes more than just its space fleet and some goth guy who'd find your lack of faith disturbing. It's no longer a backdrop. It's a mechanism with many cogs, lots of them unique and spinning to their own distinctive rhythm. It almost doesn't even matter what the context is. The same kind of story could take place in Berlin in 1940 - and retain almost all of its relevance.

Who would've thought that taking both stars and wars from the recipe would do a Star Wars themed production a favour? But if you add amazingly written characters, detailed, diverse and complex, it becomes less of a surprise. Add not one but at least half a dozen parallel story lines, no single protagonist but a bunch of them, add a Game of Thrones like kind of intrigue, add an amazing cast of names old and new that isn't afraid to spend huge talent on incidental characters - and you'll start feeling a completely new flavour here.

A flavour of true innovation in the Star Wars lore. Driven by a story which may be labeled as a Rogue One prequel, but has already surpassed it in quality or impact. After all that bland chow of full feature films made since Disney took over, Mandalorian felt like a new hope for Star Wars. But Andor is where its glory returns for real. And I'm already eager to see what will come next.

Violent Night (2022)

Feel-good sap

[6/10 · 8 January 2023]

So basically Santa is real and he can slap hardcore when he needs to. Family values. Styrofoam snow. Christmas magic. Aaaand, cut!

In a nutshell, this is all Violent Night is about. It's as tacky and stereotypical as the next Christmas themed flick, also as profane, vulgar and gory as Tommy Wirkola likes his films. Overall, a total disasterclass.

And somehow it still felt good to watch, despite me trying my best not to succumb to this Bad Santa x Die Hard crossover. I have zero explanation for this, except maybe for David Harbour being a guy you just can't hate. Before this film I only saw him in Stranger Things, and I guess he just has this honest and selfless face that you're willing to forgive him all the buffoonery and actually cheer for the fellow.

Apart from Mr Santa and his young and resourceful Kevin McCallister wannabe sidekick, the only redeeming part of this film is that it actually took a fresh turn, combining the fairy tale magic that children like with bitter disappointment that takes over when they grow up. Santa is not just a fake puffy old fart who took an easy side gig for that extra buck. But he's also not that blissful Disney style grandpa from a Coca-Cola ad. We've been shown a bit of a character depth and complexity - and somehow it was enough for this flick to stand out from its kin.

I suppose the real Christmas magic is just how low the bar really is. So if you're feeling that kind of mood, go ahead and watch this marvelous film. It should really have been called Dead Snow: Christmas edition, and the more alike to its namesake you are in terms of knowing nothing, the better your vitals will be. Yippee ki-yay and peace out.

The Banshees of Inisherin (2022)

Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair

[10/10 · 6 January 2023]

It's ironic that, when I was younger and knew nothing, I used to imagine Ireland as this merry land of jolly folk songs and people peacefully getting drunk on ale just to sing and dance to those songs, and maybe to write a few more.

It's equally ironic to recall how this naive image was shattered. Not through learning the history of English occupation. Not even through learning about The Great Hunger. It was through observing images of those patchwork fields on the slopes near the shore. With nothing but grass around, not a single tree. And those stone hedges that weren't even meant to demark land owned by different people, but rather to protect this already almost barren stony soil from eroding even further and just leaking and blowing into the ocean. It was the epitome of hopelessness and some kind of quiet realisation, that there's no solution here, and this is how things will remain. With no promise of any happy ending, or happy beginning or being for that matter.

Those fields. It was enough to have a single look to feel this anguish. Stuff that makes village people drink themselves to death or find quicker ways of reaching the same bitter end.

The Banshees of Inisherin manages to do what I didn't think was possible. It amplifies this feeling, makes it take shape, almost turns it into something palpable, and delivers it right into your core so that you shiver even if you're thousands of miles away from those bare windy shores. And it does all that through another unparalleled trick. The vessel that carries this heavy spirit is not some huge riveting conflict. But rather its polar opposite. The most minuscule thing imaginable. A story of one man becoming boring for another one.

We are so used to attaching strong emotions to strong stimulation that at first this film feels deafeningly underwhelming. It is so silently uneventful that you might decide that you just lost your hearing. Yet it's through this eerie quiet that we start hearing things that we didn't even know existed. What once looked dull and bleak now turns into a cacophony so loud that one would literally need to distract themselves with pain to stop hearing it.

It's not a problem when your friend is dull if you are surrounded with shiny bright sources of cheap stimulation, like all of us are in this modern ever-connected world. But what if your whole universe contracts to a small patch of land with a small group of people on it, desperate for novelty but so used to that desperation that suppressing it becomes a national character? How do you convince yourself that you're still alive, and, even if you are, that your life has any essence and value at all?

With only what the life of a small Irish settlement could provide, Martin McDonagh creates something that's at the same time a Boschian pandemonium and a frozen circle of Dantean hell. Where everything moves and talks and bleats at once, but nothing really happens and nothing really matters. In a way, your only hope at sanity is your own blindness and deafness. But once you un-dull yourself, existence becomes a race against time and things that don't push you forward pull you down instead.

All this ambiguous and quite nutty complexity is tough to coherently put into words. But the power quartet of Colin Farell, Brendan Gleeson, Kerry Condon and Barry Keoghan make this almost religious revelation entirely visceral. Through those quite simplistic facial movements these people let us in on the horrors of being trapped inside the routine, feeling brutally lonely while among people, and just suffocating with the mundane and the transient. You could feel it so close that the shattering experience of watching TBoI isn't even in its gory moments (although those are awfully disturbing), but in the despair of sitting next to a person you hold dear - yet knowing that there's a wall between you that can't be overcome, and just crying helplessly.

I'm not sure of the film offers any sensible amount of hope at the end. Can redemption be achieved simply via suffering? Does a symbolic sacrifice of one life breathe in life into someone else, so robotic and predictable that they could just as well be dead? And if it does, is there a single chance for this newly found life to have a semblance of, if not meaning then at least value? There's no way to know that. Because, sated with this ritual suffering, banshees are silent now, they sit back, amused, and observe. And all we can do is follow suit.

Glass Onion (2022)

Just a big buzz train going nowhere

[6/10 · 3 January 2023]

"Fake it till you make it", this has become a definitive principle for everyone who wants to become big these days. And it looks like seldom do people have moral torments caused by faking. As for making, it doesn't come easy even to those who are more than willing to sell their integrity. The story of Theranos was a recent example of that.

Glass Onion falls short of that infamous achievement, but boy does it fake! The first film was a much smaller, but much more authentic story. It didn't have to pretend in order to be captivating, and maybe it didn't claim to stir the events on a global scale but at least all of its murders weren't staged.

This film, however, is just one big cloud of PR confetti. From the moment it starts, it just keeps cramming more and more wannabe relevant stuff. Covid memorabilia that all of a sudden becomes a parade of nostalgia now that the pandemic is over. All that crypto mumbo jumbo that incidentally lost its charm following the market crash. Everything that this film wanted to sell us as relevant, has gone in a puff of smoke before the show even started. Failed investment anyone?

But the main fraud is the story. Glass Onion may be shiny on the surface, trying to shock and captivate us with that intricacy of layers. But, as Benoit Blanc poignantly notes himself, at its core lies emptiness, so bland that calling it Glass Cabbage would do it more justice.

When you watch so much huffing and puffing produce so little outcome, you're tempted to think that maybe "it's not them, it's me". Maybe you're not seeing something that really served as a punchline. And it's honestly tempting to think that maybe this whole production is a postmodernist satire in disguise, showing us the vanity of this "ends justify means" success hunting and pretence. It's actually appealing to think that all the big bets that turned into glaring losses, all that servility towards covid, crypto and even someone whose avatar in this movie has an actual facial resemblance to an elongated muskrat, it was all meant to flop in consonance with a truly visionary prediction of the future made when the outcomes were far from obvious. But sometimes our mistake is assuming a brilliant master plan where there's in fact plain stupidity. And that's exactly what I think Glass Onion is. A stupid little story puffing its cheeks to look impressive, because faking never looked so promising.

Unfortunately, this film shares another trait with its not so bright key character: it's not even hateable. Just like Miles Bron, Glass Onion is simply mildly pathetic, to a point of lukewarm charm. We get to see a few entertaining moments and one or two sharp dialogues, and Daniel Craig gets to live his post-Bond life wearing funny bathing suits, looking at sport cars with zero lust in his gaze and speaking with the most non-British accent imaginable. Well, at least someone was enjoying himself!

As for us the viewers, we could either have our own moment of nostalgia thinking about how actually witty and quirky Knives Out was, or simply enjoy the finale of moving fast and breaking things, an idea popularised by another backstabbing tech dude. Disruptors, assemble!

Avatar: The Way of Water (2022)

Fairy tale numbed down

[7/10 · 25 December 2022]

I have to be upfront with you: I am a huge fan of the original Avatar film. So even these 13 years of excruciating wait and several release reschedules couldn't separate The Way of Water from its predecessor for me. This will undoubtedly create a bias, and people who saw TWoW without seeing the original film might view it differently. Still, it is a sequel, and I am evaluating it as one.

First, the good stuff. The film is absolutely gorgeous! Moving from land to sea gave Cameron the opportunity to put his imagination to work and use his obvious love for the marine world to create a vibrant and mesmerising underwater universe. The original Avatar made many of us shed tears of pure joy and fall deeply in love with the living and breathing world of Pandora, and I couldn't deny TWoW a few deserved tears of bliss from just letting myself be immersed.

And this is where the problems begin. If The Way of Water was a BBC documentary, I'd give it a solid 10 for showing the beauty of this dream planet. But the first film was so much more than that. Its plot might be predictable, but it had genuine characters, believable drama of their interaction, ups and downs that took us through the whole gamut of emotions, from absolute happiness of a childhood dream coming true to anger and rage of witnessing cruelty and atrocities beyond redemption and forgiveness.

And this is exactly where TWoW feels surprisingly detached. At first, it's not even clear why, as the film clearly tries to play a very similar tune to its predecessor's. If you watch the sequel when your memory of the original Avatar is still fresh, you'll notice those reflections immediately, from iconic moments like freestyle flight sequences or merry interactions with harmless but whimsical wildlife, to the soundtrack fragments and even catchphrases like "You're not in Kansas anymore".

But something's still missing. And, in my opinion, it's the characters' relatability. The first Avatar showed us an alien world full of alien creatures, but we saw it from humans' perspective, even if those humans were acting through their Pandora-verse counterparts. Jake Sully, Dr Augustine and others, they were still embedded in the reality that we recognise as ours, and this created a much deeper sense of compassion, empathy and even tragedy when you could see a person twisted and pulled apart by his physical nature and emotions and feelings stuck somewhere between the two worlds.

In TWoW though, (almost) all characters are alien. Not just because they are tall and blue, but because they belong to Pandora now. The tie is severed, and no amount of adopted human weapons and gadgetry can change that. They frolic underwater or partake in the communal drama, but it's no longer an "us and them" type of story, it's mostly just "them". The filmmakers try to bypass this alienation by legitimising English as the default language, but instead of making things better it just blurs away the contrast between humans and Na'vi even more, akin to that old movie tradition of making the characters speak the same language regardless of their origin, something that modern filmmaking tries to stay away from to make the diversity more pronounced.

Moving from the forest environment to the water one doesn't help either. We humans are mostly land species. Polynesian fishermen tribes might disagree, but I'm not sure if there's an IMAX theatre anywhere near their villages. And those who can appreciate Cameron's new work probably found sounds of a rainforest more soothing and whale songs in a distance. Which makes TWoW even more of a "peculiar customs of a far-away land's dwellers", that is, even less relatable. The final battle scene does attempt to bring back our engagement, borrowing from other cult stories such as Moby Dick or even self-citing Titanic or Aliens, but this feels so artificial and contrived that I couldn't help but cringe a little.

I am sure that Cameron was aware of this obvious distance between the story and the viewer, so several characters were introduced in attempt to bridge it. Kiri, a female nod to the immaculate conception story, will probably play a more central role in the upcoming sequels, but at the moment is hardly more than a confused ugly duckling picked at by its tribe. And a reincarnation of Quaritch, a bit of a soot and tar caricature of a villain whom the story tries to imbue with an inner complexity but so far uses as a mere tool to create something that resembles a conflict to propel the story forward. Maybe the investment will pay off in the future, but so far these characters are seriously inconsistent, underdeveloped and, to be honest, quite flat.

And finally there's Spider. The only human that makes sense and makes a difference this time. A boy who's almost like a wayward tree spirit that just hangs around for some reason, he's the only link connecting "us" to "them" that seems to work. His actions are erratic, motivations unclear, but most of us can relate to this semi-feral boisterous and fiercely loyal kid. Spider is the kind of sidekick that enables the protagonist and makes him or her believable, and, if not for him, I'm afraid we'd be completely lost in the world of TWoW without a reliable interpreter.

There's more to be said about certain story inconsistencies that are too apparent in this film, regardless of your willingness to suspend disbelief. But that's mostly nitpicking compared to the main issue I have with TWoW. Which is that, unlike its predecessor, the film didn't take me on a magical ride that would be worth waiting loyally for more than a decade to see the next chapter. Luckily, we don't have to do this kind of waiting anymore. So, while I'm not astonished in awe of what I've seen, there is still hope that there will be more in stock for Cameron than pretty luminescent imagery and self-repetition.

The Trial of the Chicago 7 (2020)

Courts may have jurisdictions, but freedoms know no borders

[9/10 · 4 December 2022]

Aaron Sorkin may be a genius screenwriter, especially when it comes to court drama, but I'm sure even he hadn't foreseen the connotations this 2020 film has in 2022, not in the States but on the other side of the Iron Curtain.

Another war is now being waged, and now another country thinks that sending its citizens to die for nothing but imperial ambitions of a delusional leader is something it can do and will get away with. The only difference is that now, more that 50 years after the events depicted in this film, the government doesn't even bother to have a trial for those who protest. They are just auto-convicted by people who would make Judge Julius Hoffman shed a blissful tear.

One could argue that The Trial of the Chicago 7 is too much of a black and white story, where (almost) every bad character is a total scumbag and (literally) every good character is, apart from a few antics, a true patriot and almost a saint. One could claim that it deprives the story of essential depth and relatability, that a really good film mandates having complex and controversial characters. But reality is sometimes simpler than the laws of fiction prescribe it to be. And some people are just generally good, probably because that the members of Chicago 7 were brought together not by some master plan but by their own personal ideas, values and principles, and those just so happened to be genuine.

Maybe (but I'm just assuming) the modern States aren't what they used to be during the Nixon time, so a story of a bunch of civil activists being prosecuted, wrongly convicted but then acquitted might not make a big splash. But until there remain to be parts of the world where such prosecutions keep taking place, it's important that we don't forget what fighting for something that matters looks like, and can keep the hope that truth can - and will - prevail alive. 50 years ago, the real Chicago 7 and their defense kept the hope alive for their generation. Today, it's Sorkin's turn to help our generation remember. That, and Sorkin's signature storytelling prowess, is enough to give this film all the love it can carry.

Little Women (2019)

To love, or to matter, that is the question

[9/10 · 11 May 2020]

It's rural New England during the Civil War time, and a mother is trying to raise four teen daughters while a father does the fighting. What could possibly go wrong? For starters, the girls might be girls and start falling in love here and there. But that's not the worst part: some of them might start having ideas about their lives!

A jerky timeline and a speedy chitchat might create an early prejudice towards this film, making it look like yet another soppy costume drama. However, as the story unfolds and the pieces start coming together, you realize that Greta Gerwig took on this adaptation for a reason. This may not be the first Victorian age coming of age story, nor even the first one with a feminist undertone. But boy, can it touch, even if you're a middle-aged man in 2020!

Considering that this is not the first work of Gerwig/Ronan duo, I can't help but compare Little Women with Lady Bird. The environments of both stories could not be more different, but the whole notion of an adolescent woman looking for her purpose in life is still there. And if the former story is as realistic for its era as the latter, then there's one equally funny and sad conclusion to be made: the century and a half that passed since those times have turned us into big babies, overprovided and whining and clueless.

Having four Greek muses for daughters is already impossible to imagine in our time, when children have so much to consume in terms of things and entertainment that they hardly feel compelled to evolve themselves. But the beauty of Little Women is that it doesn't try to sell you morals or preach at you. No, the characters are still clumsy and flawed, they make mistakes and break things. But it's the reactions of the daughters and their mother to those sisterly conflicts that makes it painfully obvious that, as the society evolves and progresses, our personal maturity degrades.

All the analysis aside, this movie is simply a pure joy to watch. Not in the least thanks for the male part of the cast. Timothée Chalamet was forgettable in Lady Bird and annoyingly decadent in Call Me by Your Name, but here he is essential. By not drawing attention to himself but instead being the contrasting counterpart for Saoirse Ronan and Florence Pugh who steal the spotlight in turns. Although the male characters here work mostly as a backdrop for a largely pro-femme narrative, it never allows a single hint at misandry, instead reinforcing the idea that a woman's pursuit of meaningfulness in life is not opposed to having warm and harmonious interaction with men, something that radical feminists often tend to renounce these days.

All these little but important qualities combined with an artfully ambiguous ending make Little Women a beautiful and truly inspiring story. Which doesn't just reiterate the obvious fact that both parenting and growing up is hard, but actually gives us hope that we can be better at both.

The Gentlemen (2019)

Ritchie for zoomers

[5/10 · 21 April 2020]

Manner maketh man, as a certain character once said. And Guy Ritchie has turned The Gentlemen into a showcase for that undisputed truth. However, the same character also said that a villain's quality is crucial for the whole film's well-being, and that is where this movie falls flat on its bum.

The best Ritchie's films can be described in one sentence: a little triumph for a little guy. Lock & Stock, Snatch and even Rocknrolla are built about the fate of small-time people with quite limited prospects in life. Yes, they are clever, funny and often very lucky, but it's never a "rags to riches forever" story, more like a "rags to riches to probably lots of irrational spending and rags again" one. And that's what makes those films fun and protagonists relatable for the masses: we all enjoy seeing little men screw over big men once in a while, without becoming the evil they were destined to fight.

Here, however, we are supposed to sympathize with a big, very big man and his top minion. I agree that Matthew McConaughey is extremely charismatic and his vocal manner makes my ears melt in ecstasy, and that Charlie Hunnam looks quite the man with a full beard. But Ritchie invests so much into the "protagonist" side, yet leaves so little for the "antagonist" one. The "bad guys" are nether imposing nor cunning nor even well presented enough. You are inclined to root for the good guys because they are usually outnumbered and maybe even outgunned, but here there's no true sense of worthy confrontation, which makes you wish the "bush brothers" to break a leg in a literal, not a theatrical sense.

All this leaves us with one sad conclusion, that Guy Ritchie still knows how to do things in style but totally forgot how to bring in the substance (except the controlled ones of course, they are still aplenty). All this street gang stuff, fight porn and rap clips, and even the selfie time homage might be fun for those born on this side of the century, but for us old-timers the creative decline is quite obvious.

But even today's Ritchie could not have come without a single ace up his sleeve. Hugh Grant as a well-mannered, slightly over the hedge and a tad too clearly mancraving fox of a gentleman, is a true soul of this feature, a real reason to watch this film through. And at the end, he's the only one you truly wanna root for. Which is quite symbolic, because that's the very character who's practically begging for a sequel through what used to be the fourth wall. Don't know about y'all, but I'm interested only if they film what he's writing, kinky parts included.

Parasite (2019)

Up and down the ladders

[10/10 · 19 April 2020]

Some stories are plain and simple, a line from A to B. Some are convoluted mindgame mazes that force you to solve riddles or to stay forever lost. And then there's this film. A traditional Asian gift of layers upon layers of wrapping, each concealing and disguising not just the shape but the essence of what's inside. And in the end, the gift might not be what's in there, but the act of unwrapping itself.

I'm amazed how Bong Joon Ho tricks us into believing that this is a cheap con artist comedy at first. It was almost natural to shout "No way! This can't be the film everyone's raving about!". Had I recalled that this man has also written Snowpiercer, I would not have been so simple. Just like the rich family whose house the parasites have invaded, naive and gullible, ready to call the number on the first business card given, we fall into the traps of easy interpretations, and Bong knows it well enough, giving us all these hints we understand only after a while.

Parasite is definitely not about the action, and maybe not even about the visual brilliance, although the scene of running down the stairs, equally physical, social and psychological, under the rain is a phenomenally executed message, just like a scene of an elevated toilet bowl regurgitating back what it's fed up taking in is an image only a person who made two Oscars kiss could come up with. In terms of graphic expression and witty dialogues, Parasite could make both Tarantino and Miyazaki proud, all at the same time.

This is no doubt a fancy wrapping, but the best thing about this film is what you feel through it. From condescending disbelief, to light interest, to full engagement, to the sense of watching a social message play within a movie, to feeling as if no borders of genre or common sense exist at all, to feeling dumbfounded and uncomfortable, to a sudden calm. As if a petty half-penny story has taken you into a Zen parable.

In the end, nothing remains. An experience that leaves you blank as a mountain side under the snow. So if you do see a light in the distance, don't rush to decode its signals. Just enjoy the scenery while it lasts. After all, it's what you came all the way up for.

Jojo Rabbit (2019)

A healing experience

[8/10 · 19 April 2020]

Here in Russia, it's a common opinion that we have a twisted perception of German language because the first encounter with it usually happens when we watch a war movie, where hearing the German speech usually means that something really bad is about to happen. I'm not sure if I ever had nightmares about running away from "Ze Germans", but just the sound of Till Lindemann counting from one to ten does indeed sound like some unholy incantation.

My generation is maybe the last one still scarred with this cultural propaganda. There have been so many war films made in the USSR days, and those films still keep on coming. And the absolute most of them feed you two main things: fear and hate. I wish it was otherwise, I really do. But that's how it is, and it's part of the reason I never really liked war movies as a kid.

So I can honestly say one thing. Jojo Rabbit is the best war movie that I've never seen in my childhood. But I'm still grateful that it happened now. Despite being such a grotesquely simplified guilty pleasure, it has one thing any other serious films about this topic lack: sanity. That, and humanity. The 10 year old boy with scars on his face and a swastika on his armband somehow managed to keep his soul intact, and that child's purity is what allows you to see the horrors of war but avoid its traumas.

It might be Waititi's writing that won this film an Oscar. But the heart of it was carried by Scarlett Johansson and Sam Rockwell. Ever since Lost in Translation it was clear that Johansson can act, but for me this film has revealed her ability to steal scenes and carry them single-handedly. That soot mustache speech and a dance that ensued, that's quite mature for someone generally associated with "sexy" characters. And Mr Rockwell, oh my, I didn't like him since The Green Mile, respected him since Moon and loved him since Seven Psychopaths, but here he's just a perfect cherry on top. The last battle attire, that smokey-eyed stare, he's a true hero for giving the Nazi image a face nobody has probably dared to put on before, at least not in such a dashing and self-accepting way.

The accolades could go on and on. To Waititi's "your own, personal Adolf", to Jojo himself, who managed to come from a clumsy kid to a swaggering hustler at the end, to the brave and gentle ghost in the walls. Waititi has a talent for using the little details that look simple but add that very taste that turns cloying into touching and dumb into funny. He's done it before, and he's clearly doing it this time as well.

Whatever silly nonsense this film has shown, it is not something to be bothered about I think. If a war movie has to be surrealistic to spread love instead of hate, let it be. There's nothing civil about war anyway, so better a funny Hitler than the real one.

Rocketman (I) (2019)

Reflections of a rock star

[8/10 · 15 April 2020]

A person in an angel-demon costume bursts into a room with people waiting for him, crashes on a chair and begins his confession. His name is Elton Hercules John, and his life is a mess.

When we talk about biopics, it's very cheesy to use the word "special" to describe them. Obviously each of such films is special, because it shows us a story of a unique person, prominent in some way. However, Rocketman is indeed a special case, not just because of who it is about, but because how the story is told.

Usually, the biography movies are focused on a person's achievements and milestones: did this, came there, won that. As if we went through his or her Wikipedia page sections, turning the dry facts into a sequence that's fictionalized enough to make the viewer engaged. The thing about this approach is that it's someone else, a screenwriter or a producer, who does the "guessing" part, trying to get into the protagonist's head and deduce his thoughts and feelings based on his actions. And whether that guessing was done right is usually an open question, either because the person has already passed away (like in the case of the recent Bohemian Rhapsody), or because he's not in direct contact with the crew.

Rocketman, however, has Elton John himself as an executive producer. And from the very start of the film it becomes clear that this is gonna be a story told through _his_ eyes and imbued with his emotions. The whole AA-like rehab meeting backdrop creates a sense that Rocketman is a psychotherapeutic exercise for Reginald Dwight himself, his attempt to solve, or at least acknowledge, the existing lifelong conflicts and issues, and reconnect with his inner child, the latter even demonstrated explicitly, in a very direct but nonetheless touching way.

Another absolutely fantastic feature of this film is how the musical elements are interwoven with the main narrative. Usually the singing and the dancing happens as some sort of a cut scene, which is somehow dictated by the current state of the plot but is generally something you might skip without missing anything crucial. Here, however, music _is_ the plot, the way to accentuate and convey the main moments of Elton's life, the songs' lyrics often given to the characters, basically showing us how this or that song was born and what it was inspired by. The visual sequences of such moments are fantastically surreal and organic at the same time, the Rocketman sequence being maybe the most complex, bizarre but at the same brutally raw act of cinematographic self-expression I've ever seen on screen. These four minutes simply take your breath away, and alone are worth spending two hours to watch this film.

Is there a punch line? A moral lesson for us to learn? A late apology for not living up to someone's expectations? Honestly, I can't think of anything. The only curious fact I've learned from Rocketman is that apparently the guy who produced Elton John has also produced Queen at some point, and his characters from Bohemian Rhapsody and Rocketman are played by two different Game of Thrones stars and are shown in a very different way. Curious but utterly irrelevant. What's relevant is that music is and always will be for the living, for those who crave to express and to be heard. So live while you do, and love while you can.

Joker (I) (2019)

Sad people's comedy

[7/10 · 11 April 2020]

A frustrated but relatively harmless guy gets pushed over a little too much and goes on a sick rampage. This is a story I've seen several times, the first one I remember being Falling Down, that 1993 movie with Michael Douglas. There were definitely some more, I just can't recall them, because the plot of such films always goes through the same steps, you just can't tell the stories apart.

I've heard so much praise for Joker, I expected something groundbreaking. Instead what we have here is one stellar individual performance in front of an otherwise dull and intentionally grisly landscape. An unsettled city full of unsolved social issues, cynical politicians saying things as if to fire up the situation on purpose. Violent kids on the street, white-collar jerks, everything around created specifically to depress the viewer.

Sometimes it does feel as if DC simply doesn't want its fans to have a single bright thought or a light emotion. It's a universe full of sad and uptight characters delivering to an army of equally sad people. At least before it was about one emotionally scarred individual putting on a mask and putting on a tour de force against the "bad guys". It was dark, but the action tried to make up for it. This time, however, there's almost no action - and you are just taken on a journey of the main character to join him in wallowing in all his personal darkness and drama.

Joaquin Phoenix is no doubt exceptional here, his performance is worth all the accolade it received. Besides that, though, Joker is simply too one-dimensional to be touching. When you paint everything black too many times, all the next layers of paint just don't make any difference, and even a clown's garish garb can't bring in enough color to make up for it. Joker is a beautifully messed up character, but he's nowhere close to Tonya Harding, another fantastic performance that was not given half the credit it deserves. Joker's craziness is predefined by his grotesquely gloomy surroundings, while Tonya's fate was a real life story of this very world. Makes one guess whether we can really sympathize with issues we classify as our own.

Despite a truly fiery (in all senses) ending, Joker the movie fails to ignite a spark of prolonged interest. If not for the crazy praise this film has received, one might not even feel pressed to share their thoughts on this film with others, turning the watch into a cinematographic one-night stand. Tomorrow, I will probably not be ashamed of what I did tonight. But is this experience simply forgettable without a hint of a lasting trace? Totally so. If people will be thinking about 2019, Baby Yoda is what they'll probably recall first, and that speaks volumes about this film's quality.

Annihilation (I) (2018)

Yet another sad sci-fi

[6/10 · 6 October 2019]

It's funny how we love categorizing things, as if putting a label on something makes it easier to understand. "Science Fiction" is one of those labels which makes us think we know what to expect. But sci-fi films may be as different as a horror movie and a Mickey Mouse documentary. There are serious sci-fi's like Terminator or Alien, there are epic sci-fi's like Avatar, there are even yeehaw sci-fi's like Back to the Future.

And there's this genre I'd call SSD. Slow, Sad and Disturbing. Something sad like Nocturnal Animals, something slow like Arrival, something disturbing like Enemy, but joined together into a single pseudo-hypnotic experience.

Annihilation isn't gonna annihilate anything but two hours of your time spent on watching this. What it can give instead as a semi-bitter and semi-disgusting sense of wading through treacle of the author's convoluted imagination and troubled visions.

It can also give you some food for thought and imagery abstract enough to stir your own desire to interpret things. Which may be the major goal for any art form. In this sense, Annihilation does indeed not destroy, but instead just changes what exists and creates what hadn't existed before.

If you find this text difficult to interpret and not too pleasant to read, that's probably a good thing, because it's giving you a sense of what you'll probably feel watching this film. So it's up to you to decide whether you wanna volunteer for such a task. However, one thing is certain: if you are tired of banal stories and superheroes with blasters, then Annihilation would certainly become a refreshing experience.

Spider-Man: Far from Home (2019)

The illusion factory is back

[5/10 · 1 October 2019]

It's been just a few months since we've witnessed the final episode of the Marvel saga that went on for ten years. A convergence point of such grandeur might suggest that from now on the Marvel world would follow a different path, giving us something truly new.

However, the story of Spider-Man: Far from Home feels like an inverted mirror allusion to what the film itself tries to do with the established universe: selling us a bunch of illusions we'd be eager to believe in simply because we wanna be fooled.

With the Infinity Saga, we came to believe that all that superhero sci-fi extravaganza happening on screen actually has a deeper meaning, a layer for every major focus group, something most of us would not be ashamed to openly like. With that saga over, however, we're left with a bunch of secondary guys previously introduced mostly as filler, a few major characters past their prime, and a golden kid. Who hasn't been charmed by that cute Peter Parker boy, his politically correct sidekick and a pretty but intentionally awkward love interest!

And this is what Marvel is gonna sell us from now on. Cuteness, tolerable acting (nothing stellar, but nothing cringey too), and ok writing. Just like the posse Mysterio has gathered to prove his point, this set of traits seems to be just enough to keep the audience engaged, and the cash flow going in. Because nobody requires a groundbreaking story or insanely prominent characters anymore - now it's just enough to maintain the existing momentum without messing up.

Was this film a mess? Definitely not. Was it anything more than just a pretty image hollow within? I wouldn't say so. But as long as everyone's looking at the colorful objects flying around with a loud boom, the magician is free to take out as many rabbits out of his fake hat. We just don't care to go deeper anymore. And this carousel of generic storytelling will just keep on spinning, until either we're so dizzy we start puking this Marvel drivel back, or their projectors start falling off and the illusion breaks apart.

Unfortunately, none of the above is gonna happen any time soon. So, put the Cap helmet on and start saying "Hail Marvel" before someone finds your lack of faith disturbing.

Half Nelson (2006)

A tag cloud of a film

[4/10 · 15 September 2019]

Civil right movement, drug abuse, drug crime, student-teacher relationships, black poverty, white poverty, social drama, racism, Ryan Gosling.

If you wanted to describe this film, the best way to do it would be using a list of hashtags. How well they go together and how good they are backed up with substantial content is no matter. What seems to matter is just announcing the topics that trigger critics and audience alike.

One step into, however, and this movie just falls apart, like a world of an ever high or drunk or hungover loser stuck in his own childish mentality. The narrative is weak, the plot is simply not there, the most appealing character is probably the basketball the child protagonist seems to be carrying around all the time - and only because it's nether black nor white but red instead.

The rest is a worn indie bullsh!t that has actually never been good but has once been considered trendy. The famous faces are probably the only thing that keeps this wreck afloat.

I once thought that Moonlight was a parasite product feeding off the current social turmoil. Now I see that, compared to the likes of Half Nelson, that film was sheer brilliance come to life. Which literally shows how low our taste has fallen because of the critics who don't distinguish between important social issues and good cinema.

Avengers: Endgame (2019)

A story of a super loss and a super recovery

[9/10 · 7 August 2019]

Ten years the MCU has been with us, and through all these years I've been watching their films and grading them like a teacher grades homework. Sometimes too harshly maybe. Today I'll be at my most benevolent, so the rating might be somewhat biased.

Let's be honest. All the previous MCU movies, except the Captain America ones, were inherently flawed (as Thanos would've said, those flaws were "inevitable"). Not because of the writing or the visuals, but because of the heroes' nature. Only Steve Rogers was both mature and complete from within, so his story was always solid and compelling on all levels. All the other "heroes" were more or less kids in powersuits, fighting their own childhood traumas or searching for their purpose. And, as much as I love the coming-of-age movies, a certain annoying goofiness is always their prominent part.

But not today. Thanos' Snap didn't just remove a half of the universe's population - it forced everyone to re-evaluate their whole modi operandi. When so many people just... vanish all of a sudden, you just can't stay the same, especially if you feel like it's in a way your fault.

And this turn has given us the first hour of this film, maybe the deepest and the most sincere hour in the history of the superhero genre. The post-apocalyptic fright isn't anything new, but this time it's not about the actual survival, but rather trying to accept the new reality, in which, by some lucky coincidence, you were... allowed to live, while some people hadn't been.

This, and the whole grandeur of the culmination, are the things that mark out Endgame as a masterpiece of its kind, which deserves to be remembered. The rest is a pretty typical Marvel'esque stuff, lots of pathos and bright CGI effects. Towards the end the movie becomes almost too sentimental, but I guess I would be too, if that universe became my second family for ten years.

One more thing. I've been a part of the Team Cap since his first film, and I rooted for his side in Civil War. But this time Steve Rogers and Tony Stark managed to play it together and create a duo that truly shines. I guess when a story that big comes to an end, everyone has a chance to be a hero without overshadowing anyone else.

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018)

Campfire stories galore

[7/10 · 14 July 2019]

It is said that people have a short attention span these days, with everything beyond the size of a tweet fleeting away too soon before they could grasp it. Well, it appears that the Cohen brothers decided to cater to such audience this time, presenting a collection of six rather small and totally unrelated stories featuring the typical Cohen'esque posse of equally peculiar and utterly disposable characters.

I won't deny it: The Ballad of Buster Scruggs wasn't the worst two hours of my life spent on watching the figures moving on screen. Each story had its share of charm, and the dialogues, although at times too witty for their own good (I wouldn't use the "pretentious" cliche, but there's a certain point after which a masterclass of weaving fancy words together becomes, let's say, a bit tedious), were still fun and enjoyable. But, behind a showcase of small-scale humor, the renowned filmmaker duo seems to have lost a bigger thing - the whole sense of "why". Those very "why"s that made us actually care about the characters' antics throughout all the previous Cohen brothers films - those fine but nonetheless omnipresent threads connecting the episodes together into a quirky but coherent and solid story.

Here there's no story. There's a theme - a frontier conquest one. It's of course fascinating, and there's nobody out there who would refuse watching those cowboys vs indians skits, or people recklessly digging for gold. So if the Cohen bros went for opening a theme park, I'd be the first to scream "shut up and take my money". But, from what I seem to remember, the guys are still in the movie business, and moviemaking-wise, this production was simply too hollow, if not weak. Not because they lost their sense of taste - but probably because they didn't seem to care to use it in the first place. After all, it's a Netflix production, and what could go wrong with yet another mini-series, right?

Here and now, approach of morn has stained the sky as well, but my trousers are sorrily intact. Well, I guess, as a certain someone would have said, this ain't that kind of movie bruv.

Aquaman (2018)

Scale alone doesn't cut it. Even a golden one

[4/10 · 31 March 2019]

Marvel has Thor, and he was larger than life, at least while those charming blond curls lasted. Disney has Frozen, and it was all over the place. What could have DC done to prove that it's them who must be the most shiny and sparkling princesses of this realm? The answer is: to make The Most Epic Film Ever!

Imagine putting together Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Avatar, Black Panther, The Lord of the Rings, TRON, Blade Runner, Hunger Games, Mission Impossible, Fifth Element, G.I. Joe, King Arthur, Jurassic Park, and even Shrek to spruce things up a bit. Then crumb a ton of lesser blockbusters and blockbuster wannabes on top. Sounds terrific, "but will it blend?" Of course it will! With the new WarnerBro 3000, we could mill this into a uniform, fine-grained mess, with giant seahorses, roaring sharks and blaster-wielding steampunk dudes bestriding them.

Some superhero films at least have the decency to pretend to have some sense about them before plunging into the abyss of brain-convulsing insanity, but not Aquaman! Aquaman wants to be a Superman x Deadpool, both unparalleledly badass and unbelievably corny. Aquaman is a champion of heavy submarine-lifting and a wizard of cheesy oneliners. Aquaman flies, Aquaman jumps, he does all but sing Italian opera under the sea - and for that omission alone I'm indeed grateful.

Being a total self-belittling goofus was maybe the only point of indulgence for the Aquaman himself, so at least we don't have to try to watch this farce with serious faces (like we had to with the latest Batman and Superman movies). Maybe if I was a woman, I'd find some another redeeming point about this movie, but seriously, if you just want to watch Jason Momoa look all buff, watch that Conan film instead, you would feel much smarter while you do. Watch this, however, if you've been sitting in a dark cellar for the last fifty years, and you want to recall what colors and moving objects look like. You might even be surprised by the (not so) delicately delivered ecological message - and start reducing, reusing and recycling right away.

And if you do, please go ahead and recycle this trash first. It would make a better confetti filler than it had made a screen one.

Ralph Breaks the Internet (2018)

Made with love you don't need special skills to feel

[8/10 · 16 March 2019]

Seven years ago Wreck-It Ralph wrecked my heart with its sweet and touching story. Now, it's time for Ralph and Vanellope to find something new to explode. And we're talking about something big, like... the whole modern internet pop culture!

Basing your narrative on something as familiar and natural to everyone these days as breathing and web-surfing (whoops, reflexive puns detected!) is both a blessing and a bane. To get all the deeper level references from a certain superhero-based animation, you'd need to be a fan of that character and its universe. But you don't need any special training to be a fan of Google, Instagram or Disney princess movies, so the entertainment should find an easy way from the studio to the viewers' heads, while their cash finds an equally easy way in the opposite direction.

But, just like the case with the first LEGO Movie, being easy to digest doesn't make RBTI a shallow film. Under the disguise of the big e-brands and popular memes, this is still a story of two very different personalities who are trying to learn to really agree to disagree and pursue different dreams while still remaining close to each other. You might think it's quite impossible to deliver a serious message via an arcade game character, but here we are: what Ralph 2 did with the "loving is not possessing" idea is as believable and sincere as it's relevant for a lot of real world people here and now. So if you call this a cash grab, then shut up and take my money!

But there's more to RBTI than just what's explicitly delivered. If you take your time to just let it all seep in while the ending credits are rolling, you might come to feel the love for that big wide world Internet has become during our lifetime. It might seem scary or contrived at first, but it's the magic that lets virtually anyone to become a part of something unifying, something endless, something... liberating. We're no longer confined to where we live or whom we've been born, today just a few taps on a screen and a green light on a WiFi router would bring us anywhere and make us anyone we want. A great power, something that imposes a great responsibility too, but a power nonetheless. What better time for that gentle reminder than just a few days after the 30th anniversary of World Wide Web?

So, if one has to get rickrolled to get this far, then I call it a fair deal! And let the sour balls in the comments post whatever they want.

Incredibles 2 (2018)

The Washed-Ups

[5/10 · 12 March 2019]

It is a clear sunny day boding nothing bad, and then suddenly a random guy bursts in on a giant drilling machine, robs a bank and literally sucks it dry, making off to an undetermined direction with his prize.

I can't help thinking that this is the best way to describe what Incredibles 2 did to its paying audience. I haven't paid a penny to see this film, but even I felt robbed, of my time, my hope for having a good taste in cinema, and - most importantly - my good memory of the first Incredibles.

It's been 15 years since the first film had been released, but instead of going forward the sequel seems to have gone back in time, to the fantasy 60's that only existed in the James Bond movies. The super family, however, had frozen in time and looks almost the same, but those real life years have indeed taken its toll - in the form of Holly Hunter's voice, which now sounds as if Elastigirl is an elderly lady not yet accustomed to her new dentures. And that is just the first of many more stark contrasts between look and feel Incredibles 2 aren't able to hide.

Another thing that deteriorated just as bad as Elastigirl's voice is the filmmakers' ability to distinguish quality and hollow filler. I don't remember all the details of the first film, it's been quite a while indeed, but I do remember that, despite intentionally goofy graphics, it felt real enough in terms of sincerity. That super family acted in a way that made you care, and the plot was a balance between keeping it reasonable and providing enough surprise factor.

This time, however, we get a clumsy mix of hollow action scenes, generic parent-child moments, really forced promotion of gender equality and a dystopian anti-brainwashing message more fitting the bleak Blade Runner universe instead of the colorful tech-happy retrofuture. Watching the kids do kid stuff is now more tiring than cute, and the little family quarrels from amusing become ridiculous. Just like the new villain's persona and motive.

Overall, Incredibles 2 made me realize once again that some things aren't meant to be remade or continued. Especially if you can't add anything new or fresh to what's been said and done earlier. And if you're not that good with creativity anymore, at least let your heroes grow up a bit. Because seeing kids not ageing a day in fifteen years makes one feel like John Nash from A Beautiful Mind, and that proved to be not the most healthy thing.

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)

A franchise on drugs

[6/10 · 10 March 2019]

Most of us have dreams. Not the ones about having a billion bucks or getting that girl, but the night time ones. So most of us would agree that in that twilight zone our brain unleashes its creativity, no longer bound by the constraints of reality, and that allows us to dream the most crazy and amazing stuff. And most bizarre and incoherent also. Especially if there were some substances consumed beforehand.

In that sense, I'd agree with those who say that Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse is an animation film we could dream for. I'm far from the comic book culture, but even I can admire the visual style of this film, made so that any still out of it could actually pass for a real comic book's frame. That aesthetics is brilliantly done, no questions about it.

The rest of admiration, however, heavily depends on how much you are into TV cartoons, comic books and Spider-Man himself. This film loves to reiterate over and over again that it's based on an established universe, so there's an abundance of Spider-Man movie references and other allusions. If such things make you gasp in awe and maybe even shed a tear of nostalgic affection, you'll love it all. But for me as a non-Spider-man-acolyte, this soon became somewhat boring. I wanted to see something new, something unexpected.

And something new I did receive! In the form of a slapstick action multiplied by the pseudo-scientific stuff as grotesquely absurd as it was far-fetched. And I can clearly see how Sony was inspired by the likes of Big Hero 6 and its outright fusion of the Western and Eastern kid entertainment culture, and of Ant-man and even Dr. Strange and their abundance of moving colored specks and nonsensical words in lieu of common sense. The deeper we go into the Spider-Verse, the more bizarre it looks, feels and acts, until we're forced to accept that there are no rules anymore to cling to and that pigs can indeed fly, just as trains.

I do appreciate bringing a new stylistic vision into the world of full feature animation. But I can't say as much about bringing a popcorn bucket of LSD along with it, turning everything into a final battle from Final Fantasy, with its constant sparkle and rush and a muffled feeling that it used to mean something, but now you can't remember what exactly and it's way too late to stop and think about it.

It was a fascinating trip while it lasted, but praising it as something more than that would be like retelling your dreams to someone else: you'd end up realizing how little sense your words make and feeling embarrassed about the whole idea.

Bad Times at the El Royale (2018)

It must've looked so good on paper

[6/10 · 23 February 2019]

And I mean, why shouldn't it? This film has all the needed ingredients: a quirky story, dialogues with witty words, a trending cast old and young, unmotivated violence and mental sickness galore. It even has a black female lead character and some badass retro score! So why does Bad Times at the El Royale sound so flat at the end?

I bet the writer/director Draw Goddard has envisioned himself here as a new Tarantino, making something like a mix of all his oldschool films. If some machine AI algorithm tried to pick out the key components of Reservoir Dogs, Jackie Brown and Pulp Fiction, it would find all of them here. But there was something the robotic mind was still unable to extract from the works of the young genius: a tiny little thing called fun.

This film is just not fun. The convoluted intro drags, the characters feel invented, and the whole chemistry forced onto us. While the Tarantino stories were sick fun, their "fun" part prevailed to a degree when everything else, even the disgusting and otherwise shocking stuff, becomes fun as well. It's obvious that Quentin's guys have the time of their lives in front of the camera, enjoying every second of that bizarre masquerade, and that feeling transgresses the screen and makes you watch the ending credits with a light heart and a smile on your face.

Bad Times, however, are just bad at being easy-going, and that unyielding seriousness, combined with more than two hours of running time, just wears you out towards the apogee, where at least something lively starts happening. Unfortunately, Chris Hemsworth's guy is simply not fit to be a sick puppy he tries to portray, not with those pecs he boasts so blatantly and those straight looks that make him such good Thor. He's no Steve Buscemi, and definitely no Samuel L. Jackson. So whatever drama he tried to peddle at the film's finale, it was way less fiery than the El Royale itself.

Maybe if the film didn't try so hard to be so off the charts, it would actually be a decent drama/thriller. If it didn't try to be funny too, it could actually manage to pull off the serious part well enough. But, just like Billy Lee had preached to his devout following, Bad Times refused to pick just one side, just one color. And in that multi-layered gamble it started, it has lost. What can I say, bad times indeed.