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I don’t watch Czech films these days, they don’t interest me and I don’t see in them anything original and authorial in terms of style and narration (when I happen to stumble upon them on TV). The Painted Bird is not the revolutionary and morally questionable movie the initial responses made us believe, but it’s nonetheless honest, intimate and thoughtful filmmaking of the kind other domestic productions can not match. There have been comparisons with Tarkovsky or Markéta Lazarová, but I wouldn't go that far; Marhoul is more sober and more naturalistic, and also more accessible from a narrative standpoint. The black and white composition is an understandable and correct step for such bleak material, while the taciturnity combined with the overuse of details and the sparse editing allow for a deeper immersion of the viewer in the atmosphere so they can be ready to react with empathy to all the horrors in front of them, which the camera tastefully hides most of the time, so the story will not feel gratuitously violent. The narration consists of simply intertwined episodes with the unifying motif of the complex development of the protagonist – complex only in the sense that each chapter shapes a different side of Jošek's personality and gives him experiences that help him grow up in that terrible environment without real love. Otherwise, the development is not too surprising, Marhoul relies mainly on changing of moral environments, which take second place to the objective statements of the cruelty of war, the misery associated to it and the religious fanaticism of the predominantly rural civilians. It is a pity that in the episodic structure this secondary function gradually becomes stronger than the repeated suffering of the main character. Overall, however, I must praise it, The Painted Bird looks beautiful, it doesn’t get boring despite its runtime and the repetitiveness, the performances and the casting of the repulsive village folk are perfect (even I could have had a small role), and it presents big ideas and a cruel vision of human nature with a strong author’s signature (though I couldn’t avoid laughing when I heard the Wilhelm Scream when someone fell off a horse). A case of impressive filmmaking that may not have that huge an impact on savvy viewers despite its great ambitions, but that with every shot and scene it screams that it should be taken seriously here and abroad – and that, fortunately, it doesn’t get too annoying even after two hours.

It could use a longer runtime and more detailed insight on the closing stage of the actor’s career, but otherwise this is a very inspiring and complex summary of Jack’s personality and his imprint on all those iconic film roles. Jack Nicholson is the last and the greatest star of good-old Hollywood and this likeable documentary will only confirm that.

If you like bloody carnage in the popular setting of a remote forest and all you need is a mindless showcase of stabbing tools and deaths, you will surely enjoy The Furies. But if you believe that horror creators should know how to work with the viewer, pinpoint the tension, creatively alter the shape of the scenes and escalate the events, then don’t expect much. Although I am a fan of this kind of enthusiast work and appreciate every new idea, this Australian attempt is only halfway between a loose violent ride and dark horror, where the relationships among the characters and a personal revenge are also at stake. That said, for underground horror festivals or a night screening over a beer, Furies is alright. Strong 2*.

Love at first sight. From the very beginning, I felt that by its nature and period setting this was a film made exactly for me, and – not only because of that – I smiled like a fool during half the screening and laughed out loud the rest. Tarantino’s love letter to the film industry is interested in its own characters, like Jackie Brown, and in its stylised historical reality, which you don’t have to know that deep for it to amuse you with its subversiveness and lightness. And even though in the end the reflection of the real instances is more fun than the development of the characters, the story still creates an entertaining and formally sharp picture of a time with a contagious laxness and the status of the elders, who lead an open fight with the younger generation for a place of prominence. Margot Robbie as the symbol of an easygoing and unaware star is gorgeous, DiCaprio is in his element and Pitt, with very possibly the role of a lifetime, steals every scene he’s in. An amazing soundtrack underscoring the atmosphere and an ending that not even my wettest cinephile dreams could have hoped. Three times to the cinema won’t be enough.

If the load of Toy Story’s previous episodes was smart entertainment, the load of the fourth one is emotional. Really. A wholesome sequel that seemed redundant after the flawless third instalment, but that in the end manages to brilliantly complete the arc of Woody, entertain with genre tricks (when they dropped the music of The Shining in the antique shop, I fell into cinephile ecstasy), smartly bring in new characters that develop the ideas of the previous films, and deliver a finale that took my breath away with its emotional realism. Although I grunted a little at the popular secondary characters, I think this definitely completes the Toy Story and makes it one of the most beautiful in the history of animation. And there’s no doubt I will come back to it. 90%

Or how the massive ambitions of a filmmaker can tarnish a great film in the second half. During the first 80 minutes or so, I was glued to my seat – that absolute wave of depression, the original setting and the carefully built hopelessness worked on me like all those mind altering substances did on the main characters. And when explicit death came, it felt like a needle under a nail thanks to its perfectly prepared motivational chessboard. Aster has awesome ideas, he knows how to make the viewer nervous with only a perfect blend of sound and image, and he’s not afraid of experimenting with themes and genres, so even with a pinch of Bergman (in the reliance of the expressions of the actors), a pinch of Miklós Jancsó (long shots and the precisely arranged depth of the movements in the mise-en-scène) and a dose of Hardy’s The Wicker Man, it doesn’t feel overstuffed. Until the middle, that is. Then, as in his previous work, the director somehow stops telling the story of the characters in an intelligible way and relies on visual gimmicks to fool the viewer, who doesn’t have anyone to focus their sympathies on. The characters become pawns in a psychopathic game with a message that is unfortunately weak due to the not very effective relationships among them and the weird, unemotional ending. And yet, the boredom was only minimal and the film somehow managed to keep me constantly curious about what would happen in the next minute; it’s a pity that in the end it was mostly the bluff of a smart creator who knows how to put together atmospheric sequences, but forgets about a holistic and narrative structure. For me, 70% and I’m adding the fourth star only for the joy of watching the charmingly charismatic Florence Pugh, who (again) was like made for this role. I will surely watch it again.

This monsterverse is a rare example of variable filmmaking techniques that result in considerably different movies. Godzilla, perhaps the most distinctive blockbuster of the decade, cleverly linked the events from the characters’ perspective and the futility of their actions, while Kong: Skull Island delivered straightforward and over-the-top adventure focused on human actions (and how they make everything worse). This sequel starring the fairy lizard is somewhere in between, it takes from the first one the serious attempts at fatalism and the portrayal of the insignificance of the human characters, while form Kong it takes the narrative drive, more space for the monster encounters and a more active human participation with the Titans. I don’t think it will be any surprise to say that the oscillation between two such different concepts results in a pretty impersonal approach that is often somewhat simplified, and that maybe even weakens both the nature of the clashes of the monsters and the fate and motivations of the human heroes. The catalyst of the story is a group of people, but their significance is gradually lost and by the end It’s pushed aside by contrived family ties and the helplessness in the face of the powerful titans. Though the protagonists try to act throughout the story, their actions (which fortunately aren’t stupid or naive but understandably motivated) only serve the purpose of delaying the climax (unlike the first movie, where the characters actually tried to prepare for it). On the other hand, the narration flows by quickly, rhythmically setting monumental action set pieces into a story that systematically shuffles between the subjective observation of the terrors and the havoc caused by the monsters and the admiration for Godzilla, whose iconic image the film develops and escalates. The twists are also linked smoothly and they basically make sense, though they are often simplified by the insanely fast movements through space and, of course, the indecision over which approach should take precedence. The individual scenes and their staging are great, it’s a shame that they were unable to build a more coherent story arc around them. In any case, it’s still an interesting approach to the extensive mythology of that world, to which I will gladly return. 70%

A slow and tedious conversational drama that relies only on excellent actors and a bleak post-war rural setting where the inhabitants hide a shared secret. Unfortunately, it’s not very good at escalating the tension and the curiosity and to make us fear for the life of the protagonist (because the twist is very obvious and also, as a classic western, the hero is an almost untouchable god). Bonus points at least for the successful metaphor of the social divisions and mistrust of the time.

The peak of the genre and a delight for connoisseurs. Ultra naturalist filmmaking without hesitation that will exhaust you physically and mentally and won’t let you sleep. The first half is non-stop tension and a brutally stifling and realistic portrayal of the lowest levels of humanity and the moral back-country, and the second half is an incredibly unpleasant reflection of the previously tapped and exploited horrors, all with brilliant cinematography and sound. A film without which the word horror would lose its meaning.

The third outing of John Wick carries on with the legacy of the second one, using thoroughbred action to move forward a simple story and to reveal corners of that world which had previously remained hidden. It significantly reinforces the serial nature and the mutually supporting narratives across the franchise and its structure and, at least after a first screening, feels considerably more loose and episodic than the previous entries, which is mainly thanks to the work with the old-new characters and the action scenes. What is missing this time is the presence of a dominant villain, like in the two previous episodes, that could direct Wick’s motivations and would give form to the obstacles throughout the film. Parabellum is no longer a story about vengeance and its consequences, it’s about the culmination of an uprising against a powerful system, where the cards can be unexpectedly turned and the tension is provided by the constant confrontation of characters and not by a smooth journey towards a final clash. Most of the secondary characters appear for a few minutes to help John, both to take another step forward in his rebellion (and to explain it psychologically) and to increase a little more the knowledge of the audience about the scope and practices of that world. Wedged into all that are the action scenes, which are plenty, and they are all either preceded or followed by another shift in the plot. And while some of them are truly magnificent, with unexpected settings and cool killing tools (if you’re someone who doesn’t respect horses yet, that will change), others feel a bit tiring with their repetition of similar gimmicks. But I still have to tip my hat in appreciation at Stahelski, the stuntmen and Reeves, because almost every single action sequence, despite the fluctuating wow factor, is a showcase of the most honest school of stunt work and staging, next to which The Expendables should hide in a corner and pray John Wick won't find them. However, as effective as the film is in its dynamic sequences, the quiet interludes don’t have much glittering potential. Whereas the second one had mortar in the shape the main villain, here I missed a similar driving force, especially in the middle, when seeing armed goons jumping on poor John from every corner started to get a bit boring. The ending, fortunately, corrects the inconsistencies and prepares a very fertile ground for the shootout and fistfight of the century, which cleverly underscores the core concept of personal rebellion and further reinforces the driving idea of "John Wick vs The World". It’s not as elegant and smooth as the second one and the pace grinds at times, but that final scene manages to surprise and put most of the doubts away in a box labelled minor details. 85%