POMO

The Hunt is cross-genre bullshit that aims to please by going against the grain, but it ends up being just an action-revenge B-movie with comical brutality. However, the actress in the lead role is uniquely atypical. The most typical genre characters deliberately come in with a roar in the first few minutes so that the film is surprising in its exposition, setting the viewer up for a fresh experience, which may or may not suit you.

This adrenaline-fuelled documentary is too long for jumping non-conceptually between different sporting disciplines and locations, from swimsuits and big waves to downhill alpine skiing, back to the waves and then to the mountains again, summer cycling and winter paragliding. And again back to the waves and kite surfing. It has some nice shots, but we’ve seen those in more coherent and thematically complete opuses. And the athletes’ statements don’t offer any thoughts that would result in a meaningful closing summary.

Chernobyl is not a series, but rather a gripping five-hour film that pays tribute to everyone involved in preventing a potentially even bigger environmental disaster than the one that actually occurred. It fantastically examines the various stages after the explosion, enabling us to experience the human tragedy and the national disaster from multiple perspectives (from firefighters to President Gorbachev). The shooting of contaminated dogs. Miners and their leaders helping out. The gradually emerging understanding and respect between the main male characters (the scientist played by Harris and Skarsgård’s politician). Decomposing bodies of irradiated people in hospitals. The casting and acting of the KGB chief and his appalling attitude… This film contains so many strong story elements that it is practically unbelievable. It is also a chillingly accurate reflection of the shoddy, dishonest and unscrupulous political system on which the Soviet Union built its “glory”, only to later rot away from the inside.

I don’t understand the success of this teen would-be slasher flick. It starts out with an interesting concept involving the repetition of the day the female protagonist wakes up and is murdered, but it then develops into repetitive banality without the necessary build-up and with a surprise that doesn’t take it anywhere. I’m giving this a very weak third star only for Jessica Rothe’s picturesque face.

Da 5 Bloods is an overly loose mix of myriad repetitive political opinions, adventure poetics and Blanchard’s epic music, which plays nonsensically even in scenes in which there should be silence. Perhaps that was done to counteract the lengthiness and dramatic feebleness of the plot structure. Several scenes, especially in the first half, feel terribly like they are twice as long as they needed to be. The most expressive character, played by Delroy Lindo, is unlikable and even annoying in his close-up monologues. That said, the film’s pleasant feel-good nature cannot be denied.

A horror documentary. It’s horror not because such “predators” exist, but because of HOW MANY of them exist. What’s the response to that? Track down and lock up thousands or even tens of thousands of men, who are often probably fathers and the breadwinners of their families? That probably won’t work. But perhaps the hype that has grown up around this film will put the brakes on their outrages, at least for a couple of years. Klusák and Chalupová handled it superbly. I appreciate the ideas such as the clarification of the “nice face” to the strains of pleasant music and the last scene, which takes the escalating tension of the whole film to an emotional level, until the viewer’s hands tremble together with those of the filmmakers in front of the camera.

At the cinema after three and a half months (!), during which I watched old quarantine B-movies on a TV screen outside my home, and I immediately got such a great film! This is a very respectable way to catch up on the backlog from the beginning of the year, having already been impressed by Ritchie’s The Gentlemen. Whannell’s The Invisible Man starts off on the principles of ghostly horror, then shifts into a sophisticated paranoid cat-and-mouse game, which culminates in a murder thriller with polished action visuals that will leave you breathless. Each of the film’s three phases demonstrates Whannell’s knowledge of genre rules and the inventiveness of his screenwriting and directing. This isn’t the work of a mere craftsman, as the film contains suspense built brilliantly through only the viewer’s lack of awareness and intense dark music, a shocking twist that will make you hold your breath like nothing (!) you have seen in a long time, creative and intelligent playing with genre clichés, well-thought-out sets and delicate camera acrobatics. And he packs all of this into an admirably bold runtime in order to bring us maximum satisfaction.

This sylish retro flick is like a James Bond movie, but with more perfect, scantily clad bodies of female assassins, including Elke Sommer! This movie has a lot of talking around the table, but it also fortunately travels to attractive locations, the main male character is likeable (sort of a cut-rate Cary Grant) and the main bad guy with his spectacularly attractive estate is magical. Deadlier than the Male is a pleasant diversion.

I always enjoy Strickland’s expressionistic works, but I also always find something lacking in the complexity of their presentation, some sort of connection between their intellectual outcome and reality. Having the ability to do anything is certainly a creative luxury, but a film, despite any creative flights of fancy, should be made primarily for viewers, who will find in it their own truths, enticements, anxieties, parallels of thought, etc. That’s why Lynch, for example, is better at this sort of thing. Berberian Sound Studio is about the possible effect that working with sound has on the psyche of a sound engineer. The clash of cultures in artistic expression. British understatement and refinement versus the Italian temperament and sensuality. And cruelty. If you are familiar with the horror genre, you know the difference between Hammer’s English production and the work of Italian butchers... Strickland presents a promising subject here and, for cinephiles in the attractive setting of film post-production, he develops the story in the right ways with increasing psychological pressure, but he doesn’t bring it to a satisfying climax. What pleased me most here was the presence of the hypnotic actresses from his later films. And, of course, the carefully mixed, brutally expressive multi-channel sound.

The mother and son are not entirely typical, pleasantly uncomplicated characters within the haunted-house subgenre, and the cold mountain setting is a welcomingly refreshes a well-worn theme. However, almost the whole film stands on suspenseful scenes that exist only for their own sake, revealing nothing and pushing the story nowhere. That’s because the sloppy screenplay provides almost no story, which is confirmed by the perhaps surprisingly concluded but completely unexplained climax.