POMO

In comparison with Butler’s movies in which he plays a Secret Service agent protecting American presidents, Den of Thieves is a revelation. It’s a gritty crime flick with tough cops acting like gangsters and bad guys who, though they look like prison thugs, know how to always stay one step ahead of the law. The main bank robbery (particularly its setting) is a good idea in the screenplay and the shootouts are properly realistic. The film borrows a lot from the classic Heat, but twenty years later. Mainly, however, if it’s a B-movie version of Mann’s classic, then it’s a damn good B-movie version.

This was great in IMAX. The space spectacle of the year, with a blistering pace, amazing (digital) locations, delicately busy camerawork and nostalgia, supported by unexpected appearances of old characters. In the final confrontation, I felt the force, almost like in the final rebellion against Sauron. And finally, I liked Daisy Ridley. Unveiling the new identities of the re-established characters didn’t make much sense to me, but since I don’t remember exactly what happened in the preceding episode, I didn’t care (I don’t consider this trilogy to be part of the beloved STAR WARS; it’s just commercial parasitization). However, a second screening on a significantly smaller screen, where it was no longer possible to not notice the (dis)honesty of working with viewers in telling a meaningful story, diminished my impression of the film. The Rise of Skywalker is merely a disposable rollercoaster ride, an attraction in the new Star Wars section at Disneyland.

This unpredictable thriller about the clash of social classes is formalistically and psychologically brilliant in the mold of Kubrick. Bong Joon Ho is a master director – from his surgically precise characterisations for the purposes of the story and setting that story in an interesting environment (which itself almost becomes a character), to his unpredictable juggling of genre principles and twists, to the metaphorical interpolations that tie the whole masterfully directed film together with thought-provoking questions. He is perhaps David Fincher’s only creative sibling, though culturally more exotic and transcending the standards of universal American genre movies. But of course that also requires the viewer’s willingness to accept a significantly different logic behind the resolution of conflicts, which is where I got stuck – just as in the case of the resolution of Oldboy, for example. The conclusion of Parasite seemed to me implausible, insufficiently justified and superficially escalated solely for the purpose of adding would-be depth and some sort of intellectual inaccessibility.

Three scenes from The Lord of the Rings, stretched out into a silly 105-minute television production with a spectacular poster. The visual effects are fine for, say, a Danish fairy tale, but the costumes and dialogue are a form of punishment. Terrible.

This is a nicely filmed portrait of a short-lived love affair between two girls, with tender, subtly depicted emotional nuances in their getting to know each other and the subsequent journey of falling in love. And that’s all. The emotions in the film are so repressed (as in “high art”) that the viewer becomes a mere observer, not a participant. Not to mention the complete absence of sensuousness. Comparison to Call Me by Your Name is appropriate; paradoxically, that film’s sensuousness (something that’s very important in a film portrait of two people becoming close) is what the vast majority of viewers would welcome here. Both girls give fantastic performances and that is obvious in their eyes, but nowhere else. And the final scene, though it provides a great conclusion to their sad story, is much too similar to that of Glazer’s Birth.

It’s as if someone wanted to launch a new Netflix action franchise featuring a team of agents in the mold of M:I. Unfortunately, Bay doesn’t think it is important to elicit any sympathy for the characters, who are the second most important thing in the genre after action. Or at least give them broader characterization than the cars, boats and inanimate pink ducks get. If anyone from the group screams, he is quickly dispatched in three quick shots, and then on with the show. Even Reynolds isn’t nearly as much of a smart-ass as he is in everything we love him in (and for). The dialogue is simply painful; it would have been better if no one had spoken at all. The best thing about the film is the action-packed opening car chase, both in its unmistakable stylishness and humorous Bay elements. Here it as if we find ourselves in better times for Bay before the second Transformers. The rest of the film is entertaining with traditionally spectacular filters, epileptic editing, ladies’ costumes and the over-the-top glamourous settings of the other action scenes. And it’s annoying with its dullness and endless lack of feeling for anything.

The topic of disputes between trade unions and the government in America of the 1970s is not exactly my cup of tea. However, the pace of the narrative and the eye-catching depiction of the mafia world make The Irishman almost as good as Goodfellas. Moreover, we find ourselves at a much higher level here, among the uppermost ranks of the American mafia of that period. De Niro has the hardest task with an artificially young face with old eyes; it takes some time to get used to the digitalization in the first half of the film. He plays the killer in the traditional way, as we are used to from his similar roles. Pacino is more original, as his portrayal of Hoffa is eccentric, with political enthusiasm, great pride and the morally purest intentions of the whole bunch. He delivers the most striking acting performance of the film. For me, however, the biggest pleasure was watching Pesci, the man behind the curtain deciding who lives and who dies. He has transformed from a knife-wielding apathetic madman (Goodfellas) into a super-powerful player with a talent for mafia chess on whom all sides can rely. He excels in every scene. Keitel gets a minimum of space, but his role is that of one of the most respected bosses of the time. The director adds some of his trademark quirks, which stand out even more on repeat viewing. The top scene, which makes one’s blood run cold, doesn’t have a tense musical background, but is framed by an absurd dialogue about fish. The running time doesn’t seem too long at all, as this “road-movie” is about taking nostalgic pleasure from Marti’s unique style and a legendary constellation of acting performances we won’t ever see again.

American girls and their values. At the beginning, when they are still pole dancing, it is at least pleasant to watch. Afterwards, it’s just painful to listen to.

The Kautokeino Rebellion is the Saami Braveheart, but it is missing something very important in its narrative method. The work with the characters and story is somehow limited; in the old days, we’d call it “TV-like”. The emotional impact in the end works, but nothing memorable about the film remains.

Another great role for Christian Bale, who once again delivers an astonishing performance. This actor and his skills account for about half of the drive of this fun, light-hearted, cool, fast ride with some intimate undertones. In every scene, Mangold’s direction is clearly heading to the climax, which delivers not one but three summaries of the story. But the balance and emotional and intellectual connection of these summaries could be questioned, which constitutes the fatal shortcoming of the film.