NinadeL

A nice fulfillment of the popular premise that the best Batman stories are the ones without him. Or if they have Batwing and Batwoman in the lead roles. Sure, it could use more dialogue and less action, but the fact that Batgirl will be involved next time is great. The parallel storyline from Justice League's The New 52 has its own themes, so it wouldn't be DC for Batman to fall behind with his own storyline. It almost wouldn't be worth it otherwise, going back to Batman and his kiddos in Son of Batman and Batman Vs. Robin. This way it's almost mandatory. And pleasant. Katy Kane was one of the main reasons I dove into The New 52. It's made its way into its own 40-issue series, and now it's finally a rightful partner to the entire Bat-universe. Good for her, good for us. And especially for Maggs.

I find it very enjoyable to spend time alongside Hedy Lamarr. Her films are often magical as her natural presence in well-chosen stories melts the art into an audience drug. At other times, the supple pace of the narrative might feel out of place, in which case I would have appreciated an even slower pace so that Hedy could reign even longer. The wonderful modern world, in which a successful woman employed by a fashion magazine seeks a way out to be happy again, teaches us that emancipation is not self-fulfilling. The film features great costumes, great plot twists, and relationships see through today's optics. I'm delighted to have been able to compare a loose cycle of films based on Edward Sheldon, whose texts successively shone with Negri in the 1920s, Garbo and Dietrich in the 1930s, and at the end of his era of popularity, in the late 1940s, the last protagonist to take fate into her own hands was the world's most beautiful woman, Hedy Lamarr. Just a bunch of experiences like that.

Romance is the charming love story of Italian singer Rita Cavallini, told in retrospect so that Garbo's charms can dazzle in 1880s-inspired fashion. Garbo is charming, sweet, fragile, determined, and, when she allows herself to be, funny... Audiences at the time greatly appreciated the contrast to her bitter Anne Christie (and so do I today), which was her famous sound film baptism. It doesn't matter that Garbo's accent isn't really Italian; melodramas aren't about these details in the first place. Whereas before it was impossible to take your eyes off Garbo, with the advent of sound film, it is no longer possible to close your ears. To listen to her lines is to fall in love all over again.

It's nice that a transgender being can take festival-goers to Copenhagen, Paris, and Dresden in the 1920s and they don't even protest. The lead roles are godlike, and I had no doubts about the set design. In addition, excellent are also the supporting roles (Sebastian Koch as Magnus Hirschfeld) and especially the emphasis on the work of Gerda Wegener, for whom I don't know whether I prefer the Art Nouveau or Art Deco period.

Let's leave aside the fact that the name "Lída Baarová" is no longer the name of an actress who lived from 1914 to 2000 and worked in Czechoslovakian, German, Austrian, Italian, and Spanish cinema, lived through all sorts of things, and then kept only theater at the end of her career. "Lída Baarová" has been an affair since Standa Motl entered her life and a social event since Filip Renč entered her fate. Renč's The Devil's Mistress is something of an intersection between Requiem for a Maiden and Guard No. 47, two moments in his career when Renč realized the power of film as a social event and the power of the period piece. This film amounts to cellophane tinsel that doesn't work, unfortunately. The artistic license is beyond believability and one searches in vain for qualities in certain aspects. On the other hand, personally, I don't really care. Films have been made about the likes of Anny Ondra since the 1970s, and thankfully no such hysteria has developed around either.

After a series of four silent films starring Karl Noll, The Last Bohemian is thrown into the 1931/2 session in a whole and wonderful way. Sure, I regret that only a fragment has survived, and the 1950s disfigurement isn't glamorous, but I try to enjoy what I can.

In vain I ask myself who Lída Baarová - Doomed Beauty is for. If the viewer has taken part in the Baarová phenomenon, he suffers. If he hasn't, he becomes an uncomprehending laughing beast. Třeštíková's factual inaccuracies are striking (Wanka or Kopecký, Lamač or Slavínský, her team obviously doesn't care). The imbalance of reported facts is extreme (not only was Goebbels married, but so was Fröhlich). What is missing is a reflection on Baarová's career before her international success, and her work alongside other domestic stars (when Nový is shown, where is Haas?). Was it necessary to use Eva Braun's private archive in the context of Baarová? Important milestones are swept under the carpet (the tragedy of her family sounds like a farce), her career in Spain is not mentioned at all, and I could go on for a very long time. If she’s a Doomed Beauty, where is the transformation of the actress in Prague and Berlin? Where are the differences in the styles of work in Austria, Italy, and Spain shown before and after the war? I am exhausted because this is really not the result of a work that could and should have taken a good twenty years.

This is just plain old bullshit. It’s formally self-absorbed, empty, and too sure of itself. Go ahead and take it all in and be dazzled by every detail, the "entertaining violence," or maybe even Zoë Bell, and have yourself a great time.

The universe in which the French comedy starring Omar Sy did well is a different universe from the one in which I exist. That is quite alright. This is also an example of how rich the cinematic multiverse is.

After Kawasaki's Rose, I was angry at Innocence for a long time because it was impossible to rehabilitate Hřebejk and Jarchovský that quickly and give them a chance again. But if I could bite the bullet and get into a certain frame of mind, I can open myself to Innocence like to no other project. The notion of innocence is explored here from many angles, and the Geislerová/Linhartová similarity suggests an ambition beyond the mirroring so much adored in Persona. Fortunately, Hřebejk doesn't copy Bergman mindlessly, and instead he just rewrites some things from the history of world cinema, and that in and of itself is not a crime. It would have been a crime if he had left the one scene with Radim Špáček in the final cut, which would have made the point a farce. The real futility of the final form thus remains only the highly questionable musical score by Vladivojna La Chia, which Hřebejk, unfortunately, used again in his other work on the series Head Over Heels. All in all, Vetchý is the acting king of Innocence, Munzar nicely underlines in his scenes a certain satire of the whole story and a relativization of the fact that Geislerová plays someone who suffers from the fact that she is no longer 14 (which is classic acting in the style we are used to from her).