Filmmaniak

A slightly funny, undemanding comedy, whose main problems are too little humor and its exaggerated length. The story is a pool variation on The Full Monty with the message that sports success will solve all your problems, except that the writing and directing are much worse. The introductory one-hour exposition (before training starts properly) is terribly tiring and the metaphors revolving around the wheels and squares are completely out of place. The spectacular final 15 minutes is quite a satisfying redemption for that misery that came before, but it's weird that the swimmers perform choreography that you've never seen them train before.

An interesting behind-the-scenes look at Putin's candidacy and election process, and into Boris Yeltsin's privacy. The actual records from Putin's first year in office are not as telling and they are, above all, shallow - including moments when Putin talks to the director and speaks directly to the camera. The documentary is presented as anti-Putin from the beginning, but of course only what Putin allowed the filmmakers to shoot appears in it.

Confused, badly told, and incredibly inconsistent nonsense without a plot. In every facet, from the directing and the acting, to the catastrophic editing and dialogues, the film fails in such an epic way that it could be recommended as a bizarre curiosity, but otherwise hardly. Only about five jokes are relatively decent, and all the rest of the humor misses the mark so badly that it's often not even clear what the humor was supposed to be. I can't even really decide what to call the imaginary icing on the cake on this nonsensical cesspool - whether it’s the would-be cowboy-styled narrator, the horrible English of all of the protagonists, or rather the final twist, which turns all of previous events on their head, but because none of the characters react to it, in the end it is almost swept under the rug unnoticed.

The theme is remarkable and the first half hour goes by surprisingly fast, but then the story stops completely, starts to spin in a circle and mainly stops moving towards anything, except perhaps for the main protagonist’s unexciting efforts to break out of the fraudulent routine into which his surroundings drew him. One good idea spread over ninety minutes and without a point.

Watching Gaspar Noé's films is like discovering new forms of communication. The opening dance scene is hypnotic perfection and pure ecstasy, while everything else is mainly about how far you are willing to go and how far your spectator endurance reaches. A spectacular cameraman show and epileptic choreography accompanied by techno on a trip; or in other words, Noé knows how to mix a tailor-made sangria. He collected his most frequent trademarks, scattered them at a dance party and purposefully created a hallucinogenic apocalypse with zero plot, but maximum efficiency. A wild and predatory experimental ride, incredibly progressive and, at the same time, narcissistically immersed in itself. But what else would you expect from Noé?

A minimalist film with a sympathetic nature, set in two and a half environments and watching the humorously true skirmishes of an amusing family, in whose company everyone will surely remember their own family (the grandmother played by Jana Synková is the most exciting). Situations learned from life are complemented by an almost mystical and symbolic conclusion and the great casting pull the film to where dialogues are not enough and humor and plot are a bit bogged down – some of the motifs are not comprehensively resolved (for example, the son's relationship with his Slovak girlfriend) and not all of the characters are given the same care (e.g., the father and grandfather almost do not get the chance to express themselves and the character of the daughter of the German friend probably exists only so that there is someone to explain to what the phenomenon of Czech weekend cottages is). Otherwise, it's pleasant, non-binding entertainment.

An Argentine family goes on holiday to Brazil and… nothing happens. Or rather, things start happening with relationships (both parents have an open marriage, so the mother is hit on by the Brazilian host, whose ex-wife is enchanted by the father, the daughter starts a fling with the son of the host, and the son then disappears for half of the film so that he’s not an unnecessary third wheel), but in the end the status quo is still held up. The film would be a pleasant respite if, in addition to the sea and sunny beaches, there was also a more interesting story, more acute conflicts or at least humor. Unfortunately, there’s none of it.

From a technical point of view, this is an extremely carefully, in detail elaborated film with a strong theme and an impressive course, the biggest problem of which, however, lies in the basis, i.e., in the implausibility of the initial situation. It is hard to believe that an investigative journalist would try to infiltrate ISIS at the drop of the hat, with zero preparation and no basic orientation in the issue of the Islamic State, to think she will succeed, and moreover to get so emotionally involved in the whole thing. The second strange thing is that an experienced terrorist who transports a few girls a week from Europe to Syria does not immediately see through the act of the naive girl with an obviously newly created Facebook profile and a blank computer desktop, where there is nothing but a picture with freshly downloaded desktop wallpaper.

A documentary film that is almost a film with acting and a documentary reconstruction about people who, due to various forms of mental blocks, are unable to experience intimacy, sexuality, and essentially even ordinary physical touching, without taking part in therapeutic sessions and receiving "professional" advice (psychotherapists, prostitutes or transvestites). The whole film is a terribly superficial, two-hour-long therapy session with the message that in the world of sexuality there is nothing like a deviance, fetish or deviation from the standard; in short that everything should be considered normal, including night swing/BDSM clubs. However, these clubs are also counterproductively filmed terribly naively and in a clichéd way so that they seem repulsive in the first place. The supremely artistically shot film full of naked bodies deals with the emotional path of its characters to inner openness, but everything that is heard from them has zero informative value, because everyone just deals with their own problems and feelings, but their self-reflection is not subjected to any meaningful analysis.

Comedic genius Williams could not have gotten a better film portrait. It is surprisingly comprehensive, coherent and devoted to his work and private activities throughout his life. Excellent editing work, done quite obviously with love and respect, accompanied by Williams's colleagues, friends and family members, who were well-chosen. Sometimes the film stands still for too long and wastes time unnecessarily by showing more and more photographs with Robin's sympathetic face, but on the other hand, the recordings of his comedy performances and films are practically sure to keep your attention (and sometimes these are incredibly unique shots). In the end, the director of course couldn't help but feel a little sad, but she still conceived the conclusion very sensitively and without going all out. It rarely happens that I laugh out loud so often during a documentary. We will always miss this great actor.