POMO

In telling a dramatic story and portraying characters in a less coherent manner than in the first installment, It: Chapter Two is rather more B-movie improvisation (the weakest quarter of the film is made up of looking for personal artifacts). On the other hand, the plot is denser and contains more monsters, though they are absurdly incorporated or stolen from somewhere else (the spider head from The Thing finally got more space). Sometimes I enjoyed it, sometimes it was boring, and on the whole I kind of don’t care that I won’t be seeing the third part.

A timeless clothing store as a colorful temple of human needs and weaknesses, inhabited by a gothic vampire, a bizarre servant and a few courtesans. In Fabric is a mysterious trip into the realm of human fetishes and internal anxiety with attractive giallo optics. The first half is intriguing and stimulates the viewer’s curiosity. The second half, which turns the page and observes other victims, is interesting only at the beginning, before it begins to connect with the common evil. Then the film starts to become boring by reminding us of the situations from the first half, without escalating in any meaningful way. And the drive of the almost hypnotic narrative is thus ruined. It was as if Strickland didn’t know how to finish the story that he so wonderfully set in motion. The best thing would be to develop this into a series where in each episode the murderous dress would visit another household. The creator could thus try his hand at dozens of bizarre constellations of characters and their intimate activities “behind closed doors”.

Did Fritz Lang really have to so blatantly steal from Hitchcock? This is no homage or tribute to Rebecca; it is merely a less successful copy in every way. Secret Beyond the Door is further marred by its lack of gothic set designs to give it the necessary mysterious atmosphere and by the main male character without the necessary charisma. The potentially most interesting character of his son is criminally underdeveloped and the final revelation is unsatisfactory and banal.

Rather than in the story itself, the joy of watching this movie lies chiefly in savouring the beautiful, elegant filmmaking of early Hollywood, with spectacular scenes and with excellently selected and stylized actors. The story is rather dated, unable to engage as it once did, and it becomes exciting only in the final revelation. Moreover, the anxious position of the main character in the story is more relatable to the female rather than to the male audience. For me, Rebecca is all about Laurence Olivier’s star power and charisma, the design and atmosphere of the gloomy Manderley Mansion, and the black silhouette of a mysterious housekeeper in the interiors with long curtains. These are the elements that Hitchock revisited in his later and, in my opinion, more significant works.

An old New York building with a fire escape, a helpless boy whose life is in danger but no one believes him, and a script that keeps putting various obstacles in his life. This small, unknown thriller is just as engaging as many genre classics. The Window is packed with suspense and anxiety, with a fast pace almost reminiscent of an action movie without any unnecessary detours, and a simple, but all the more efficiently executed dramatic premise. And with a nicely escalated climax.

A delicately played love triangle involving blindly falling in love, lies, abuse and the loss of oneself and everything. Scarlet Street is unpredictable in its storyline and masterful in the portrayal of its characters, while the script is supported by great actors, whose absolute king is Edward G. Robinson. He will captivate you completely and you will look forward to every new scene with him. Robinson was a master of portraying emotions, the most sincere actor depicting the “heart on his sleeve” with facial expressions that I have ever seen in film. I add the fifth star for him.

This movie stays cold, detached and not-so-enjoyable long into its runtime. Only the last third outlines the motifs that give it sense. Nevertheless, it is only slightly emotional and the least viewer-friendly and most minimalistic film in terms of audiovisuals among Jonathan Glazer’s works. This may be on purpose: while the main feature of Glazer’s genius, in addition to original narrative structures, is powerful audiovisuals. Following a crime drama and a romance flick, he surprises us with a minimalistic take on a genre, which is usually held together by rich graphic expression.

This feel-good adventure movie is elevated to the four-star level by multiple aspects and their fresh interaction – frequent moving around nice European locations, more space for Jon Favreau and his nice performance in the mentor role, frequent references to Tony Stark and Mysterio’s impressive technological games, paralleling the very charm of film illusion. And the well-depicted inner struggle of Spider-Man with his own responsibility and the inevitable expectations he has for himself.

The only thing this movie has in common with the F&F franchise is the main duo. It wants to resemble Mission: Impossible, but it most closely resembles G.I. Joe. It’s saved only by its similarities to Moana, but it’s a lot more stupid, which is a paradox, given that it’s intended for an adult audience. Only ten percent of the jokes are funny, the buddy chemistry is poor (the first encounter in the glass office, WTF?), and of all the action scenes, only the last one is interesting.

Crawl has a nice digital setting and, in the second half, a decent build-up of suspense and unpredictable use of the limited stage. Given the seemingly transparent plot that involves a skillful swimmer and her relationship with her father that needs to be healed, it turned out to be quite a profoundly written and directed survival-horror movie. It’s a half-star more enjoyable than the similarly themed The Shallows.