Matty

If cinephilic pleasure has a ceiling, I reached it at those moments when Robbins and Tarantino rummaged through the treasures of Sam Fuller with the glee of two little boys.

This deceptive courtroom drama, in which no one acts honestly, was based on Michael Connelly’s popular novel of the same name. The corrupt nature of most of the characters, not excepting the protagonist, does not serve the film as an object of criticism. On the contrary, The Lincoln Lawyer gently convinces us that it can’t be any other way today. What’s important is to have something on everyone and if you don’t know more than the other, you at least pretend that you do. Naturally, the outer shell ultimately gives way to an uncorrupted core, a “nice” story with a lesson about decent behaviour at the end, but I enjoy the fact that traditional values are called into question in a film about law and justice. What’s even more surprising is that I also liked how Matthew McConaughey conceived his character of yet another arrogant hotshot, which – unlike a dozen of his previous roles – actually makes sense this time. You get the feeling that he is hiding something more behind his behaviour. If he didn’t show off, he would be either a zero or pushing up daisies. This dramaturgically complete, though somewhat long, film is held up from the side by excellent actors in supporting roles (Bryan Cranston, William H. Macy). Its lack of functionality as a thriller is a problem of viewer expectations rather than a problem with the directing. It would need more unrevealed cards, more suspense and more reasons to worry about someone’s wellbeing. But I had no problem with the film as a drama. 75%

I’ve never been to Scotland (let alone the Outer Hebrides). Therefore, I cannot judge whether or not it is really such a delightful piece of land that your main concern there is to have something to get drunk on. Mackendrick’s whisky-soaked debut for Ealing Studios mixes the serious (the Second World War) with the unserious, without inducing a headache. It rather causes a memory lapse, as the film offers a number of scenes ranging from lively to wild (thanks to the editing) or ironic and biting (thanks to the commentary), but none that are unforgettable, so it is hard to distil a memory of its more specific contours not even three days after seeing it. 75%

You have to truly love a film in order to lie with such persuasiveness.

Like Ulmer’s genre movies, tracking down the half-forgotten king of B-movies gets straight to the matter at hand, i.e. to film. A more content-rich exploration of the director’s life would in any case be made complicated by his Baron Munchausen-esque nature, when, for example, he gleefully insisted that he was born in Vienna rather than in the less noble city of Olomouc. The inspiration for the way he made his films (according to legend, he shot Detour in six days) is discussed not only by the people one would expect to see here (Bogdanovich, who interviewed him, and Corman, who shot films with similar economy), but also by Wim Wenders. It’s a shame that a minimum of space is set aside for Ulmer’s influence on the French New Wave, through which his legend was oddly revived also in the United States. A likeable aspect of The Man Off-Screen is that its makers do not create myths or leave open question as to how essential a role this man actually played in the history of cinema, even though the personality of Ulmer, known outside a circle of enthusiasts only for two films (The Black Cat and Detour), would make it tempting to do so.

Boris and Bela exchanged murderous glances and lines laden with an indeterminate Eastern European accent in this simple variation on Dracula (or Nosferatu). Despite the attempt at humour, including one unusually mature moment of genre self-reflection (a newly married couple parodying their host), The Black Cat is laughable rather than funny and charmingly naïve rather than having any kind of charm. 60%

This essentially parasitic series (Bond + Clouseau + spy series like The Man from U.N.C.L.E.) – which it mostly parodies, however – successfully creates an impression of originality thanks to the inimitable character of Agent Smart. Though he works in a serious organisation, his ineptitude causes him to inadvertently sabotage his own missions while being the primary source of humour. He thinks that he knows everything – we know, however, that he knows nothing. Laughter is mixed with pity, pure slapstick with sound gags and verbal humour. “Awkwardness” is the keyword of every episode and every task that the agent faces. Saving abducted scientists and unravelling a mystery involving Indians making threats with guided missiles require someone competent, i.e. someone quite different from Smart. His only special ability is to be conspicuous in situations that require the opposite (he could learn a lot from Agent 44, who was able to hide himself behind a desk lamp). Given the madcap-comedy genre classification, it is necessary to accept that Smart’s more capable colleagues, who at least have some idea of what’s going on around them, obviously don’t have a problem with a moron who poses a threat to humanity. For a viewer spoiled by series of cinematic quality, Get Smart has a very slow pace and predictable jokes, but in light of the time and place of its origin, Mel Brooks and Buck Henry created a rather bold satire and, in addition to that, Don Adams knows perfectly well when to employ an expression of half-understanding and when to show total incomprehension. 75%

Despite my strenuous effort, I was unable over the course of two hours to block out my awareness of the existence of Kubrick’s masterpiece, so it was difficult not to snobbishly dwell on the “not much better” special effects, the intellectual shallowness and frequent literalism (the most likely “function” of the monolith is even mentioned at the end). Nevertheless, I admire Hyams’ stubbornness and I am well aware that, with respect to his abilities, he made a remarkable film that suffers from thematic complexity. Earth is in the midst of the still ongoing Cold War (which is no longer so cold), while a crew composed of non-Russian-speaking Americans and English-speaking Russians deal with mutual hatred, HAL’s psychological games and a number of technical or, as the case may be, metaphysical problems (Dave Bowman hasn’t said his farewell yet). The result is a stylishly clean but excessively content-heavy sci-fi movie that lacks the “extrasensory” scenes of  the original 2001: A Space Odyssey, though it elegantly runs circles around its dumber genre cousins. What’s interesting is the composition of the crew (I didn’t recognise Helen Mirren at all, but Jan Tříska immediately), as well as the point, which will make your brain glow white hot if you know the original (was the last shot a symbol of a completely new beginning?), but anything more interesting cannot erase the fact that even if parts III, IV and V were to be made, there will always be only one Space Odyssey. 70%

A balladic hippie western whose reworking of the traditional mythology makes it reminiscent of other revisionist films of the 1970s (Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid, The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean, Little Big Man, McCabe and Mrs. Miller). Pollack removed from the journey of Redford’s white liberal genre elements in the form of heroic deeds, well-arranged shootouts and rolling prairies. He kept the journey motif itself, though more in the spiritual sense rather than geographical. Rather unencumbered by drama, the film doesn’t move forward, as it rather brings to mind an (un)closed circle. Co-written by John Milius on the basis of multiple sources (could that be the reason for the barbaric wildness of the action scenes?), the screenplay does not depict the Indians as savages, but as an ethnic minority that offers the protagonist some important life lessons on his journey. What is truly important is man and his being at peace with nature, not the petty wars over land that take place on the fringes of the protagonist’s interest. The film’s pervasive non-confrontational nature is at odds with the wilderness in which the story was set. I personally found that the film lacked rawness and authenticity, and its lyricism is significantly more restrained than in, for example, the films of Terrence Malick, which seem to have grown right out of the ground. However, Jeremiah Johnson is still a welcome refreshing film after thirty years of John Wayne-style massacring of Indians. 75%

MasterChef meets Rocky (or any other sports drama). A melange of bizarre colours and flavours, Sikkaek is about food and everything that it can symbolise (and not only for South Koreans). The blend of drama rooted in the distant past, touching romance, slapstick and thriller is not entirely harmonious and, for example, the protagonist’s deeply felt relationship with his cow would be easier to accept in this form as another story in Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Sex*. But my tastebuds, stimulated by the visual delicacies served to me, force me to consider two things: show greater leniency in my rating and try something from Korean cuisine. 65%