Matty

A mistake squared – a bad adaptation of a bad book (or rather a book that tries too hard). The literariness is manifested from the opening minutes through the voice-over, though this time it finds its justification in the nature of Oskar, who communicates mainly with himself. Daldry didn’t manage to emulate the book’s expressive richness. Compared to the book, the story in the film is told in an incomprehensibly conventional manner as an inverted Oedipal (melo)drama with a very clear aim (exalting the motif of seeking/expedition), recast in material form just to be sure. The Oedipal aspect is inverted only on the surface, as Oskar declares when lashing out that he would prefer that his mother had died instead of his father, his notional arch-enemy, but the father-son issue is dealt with throughout the film. Whereas the book managed to be gripping at least in the passages that take on the perspective of Oskar’s grandparents, the film filters events exclusively through the young boy’s naïve point of view. So, Oskar certainly knows more than his peers, but – as in the book – it isn’t clear if this involves memorised facts or if he is a little genius. The protagonist is unreadable and strange only in a way that suits the filmmakers’ purposes. The film’s atmosphere is also characterised by vagueness, as on the one hand it contains moments of levity (often unintentional, e.g. when Sandra Bullock reveals her parallel mission, which not even an elite CIA agent would be ashamed to carry out) and, on the other hand, it is unable to view the subject of death from a distance, without the burden of charged emotions. Oskar’s statement that “I don’t know a single thing that I didn’t know when I started” applies equally to him and to us, as the film is infected with the fear of remembering what actually happened. It only re-enacts a national tragedy without in any way deconstructing it. The delay in revealing information that pushes the plot forward in a direction that is already known to us is thus all the more tiresome. I had thought that such tenderness and false compassion in relation to 9/11 were already passé. Apparently, I was wrong. 45%

The Whole Nine Yards without Bruce Willis and without humour. Arlington Road is amusingly serious in the style of its narrative and, in terms of its content, it is an extremely, extremely paranoid attempt to follow in Hitchcock’s footsteps. It comes closest to the films of the master of suspense when Badalamenti’s music is brought into play. The state of uncertainty in which we are held until the final revelation, how poorly the formalistic façade masks the artificial construct, does not let up, mainly due to the performances of the two main actors and Joan Cusack, a Stepford-type housewife who will not ask her blood-stained husband questions, but she will readily advise him on how to wash out the stains. Unlike Tim Robbins, Jeff Bridges forgets to keep a cool head and those who pay the highest price for that are paradoxically his loved ones. Privacy or not, it is necessary to protect the homeland. Does the film warn against this idea or encourage it? Ask your neighbour. 60%

What I find to be the most incomprehensible thing about a film whose humour is so transparently comprehensible is the bizarre coincidence that all of these British gentlemen (Michael Gambon, Charles Dance and Martin Freeman) are involved in ninety raucous minutes of jokes based on the massiveness of Ali’s private parts and the smallness of Ali’s intellect. Cohen is not the first to have no problem with acting like an idiot for money, nor will he be the last. 60%

What feels like roughly four hours of toilet philosophising, which Cronenberg disparages in places, but through most of the film he just lets it monotonously flow forth, which is so mind-numbing that you will probably lose any desire to hear the film’s message, whatever that may be (for example, the message that we haven’t been told anything). I will have to watch it again to confirm or refute the impression that this is Cronenberg’s shallowest and least atmospheric film, but I’m going to need to psych myself up for that over the next several weeks. 50%

A romantic comedy crossed with a fairy tale and an action thriller. That’s a wild combination, but it’s also easily watchable thanks to the central duo. Ted fights against the embarrassing nature of its subject matter with the help of would-be adult humour, which proves to be truly mature and not blatantly politically incorrect only a few times (the two best jokes are delivered to us shortly before the credits roll). Though MacFarlane stages the scenes in a very sitcom-like manner (two seated characters conversing), he still manages to make excellent use of the combination of the teddy bear’s cute appearance and debauched nature. Thanks to that, some moments are ambiguous, entertaining and touching all at the same time. The genre shift in the last third isn’t overly disruptive. Furthermore, in order for the protagonist to finally grow up, he has to face a truly serious situation, which for him is characteristically not the risk of breaking up with his girlfriend (which he accepts with the attitude of “I’m a loser, so it goes”), but the risk of losing a lifelong friend and thus, in the figurative sense, of losing his connection to the world of his childhood. Unlike in other romantic comedies, the protagonist’s transformation from an unreliable slacker into a responsible partner isn’t definitive and irreversible – he is still leniently allowed to goof off, quote from Flash Gordon, take bong hits and timidly crawl under a blanket during a storm. Thanks to that, together with the numerous allusions, references and homages (including a bizarre quote of a scene from a parody that serves to demonstrate the degree to which John’s mind is infected with eighties pop culture), Ted is a perfect piece for analysing the ways in which Hollywood is ingratiating itself to a significant group of viewer made up of men who are not exactly young, but are definitely immature and refuse to grow up. 75%

A (very) important subject conceived with confounding naïveté and disregard for historical facts (the second episode is extremely dumb, so I recommend avoiding it entirely). It’s a shame that the creators of The Company don’t try to delude us into believing the CIA played a role in the Prague Spring. There would then be even more unintentional humour. Even though this story of transgressions on the part of the American intelligence service is reinforced with solid production design and told (almost too) clearly and fine acting (with the exception of the always bland O’Donnell), the simplistic attempt to foist on the audience the idea that the Americans meant well by exporting freedom to foreign lands gives The Company practically no chance to stand alongside more mature spy thrillers and dramas. A recent, nearly perfect antithesis to this is Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, a film that is intelligent, long, labyrinthine and generally entertaining not by ruminating on everything, regurgitating it twice and then covering it in impassioned music. On the contrary, it is entertaining because of its user-unfriendliness, as it forces us to be more actively involved in the popular spy game called “find the mole”. 60%

The rating relates to the episodes about Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly. The lives of famous ladies seen as mismatches between women of unimpeachable character and the masculine world of unfaithful, neglectful and power- and profit-hungry men. However, the idea of women as victims is not called into question by the series, but is rather exploited. Instead of seeking out causes, it only shows consequences, and suffering is taken as an irrefutable fact that can only be accepted. On top of that, the tabloid-like focusing of attention on relationships at the expense of professional successes raises in the unknowledgeable viewer the question of how exactly these women were extraordinary. In this respect, it also works with a certain givenness of issues that do not need to be elaborated upon (they were simply famous), even though a documentary series of this kind should be about the reasons for its subjects’ exceptionalism. Extensive biographies of both actresses have been  published and they also tell only one version of the story, but at the very least, they do not overload us with unimportant information.

“Do you feel in charge?” This is exactly the kind of hard-hitting ending to an epic saga that you would expect from a maximalist like Nolan. With the exception of the overwrought action scenes and the expanded number of characters, Nolan couldn’t take it much farther than he did in The Dark Knight. There was nowhere else to go. So he returned to the roots instead. Batman must rise again, start over and definitively come to terms with the burden that he has carried since Batman Begins, which is represented here by the character of Bane. ___ Whereas the Joker used uncontrollable chaos, Bane employs brute, straightforward physical force. His objective is not to destroy Batman only as a symbol, which is what the maniacal clown managed to do (while his success is reaffirmed when the long-term unsustainability of the status quo built on lies is exposed), but also as a person. The villain and the mistaken and doubting supporting characters again overshadow the titular hero, who admittedly gets more space to deliver his clumsily written lines (with literally expressed thoughts that the film’s creators are unable to convey to viewers simply by hinting at them) without his mask and in his human voice, but his “developmental arc” is merely a variation on that from the first film (with the difference being that his father doesn’t help him out this time) and he is rather predictable in his behaviour (much more so than Bane or the excellent Selina Kyle, whom I’d like to see played by Anne Hathaway in a separate film), just as the rest of the film is predictable. ___ Based on proven narrative formulas, the story generates situations that assault the eye with their calculated nature. The characters’ decisions are not rationalised very well. The degree of care with which the whole film was designed and calculated for effect is apparent in the casualness with which Bruce Wayne puts on the bat costume again after eight years of living in seclusion, the large number of characters appearing in the right place at the right time, and the sudden and correct decisions made by those who had previously been hesitant. Characters make dumb decisions so that Nolan can offer us epic scenes (such as the fight between Batman and Bane) and to serve a particular purpose. Of course, in any fictional film, things naturally don’t happen for any other reason than a conscious decision on the part of the screenwriter, but this fact is more skilfully disguised in other films. ___ Like The Dark Knight, the third instalment is elevated by an uncompromising villain who is well aware of the power of money and of the game (in this case, American football), two phenomena that bring rich and poor together. The villain’s radically Marxist plan with an unclear objective (does he want to destroy Gotham, or leave it to the rabble?) include a forceful attack on both of these pillars of capitalism. Unlike in our reality, the financial crisis in the film is caused by outside interference, not by gradual internal decay, and the culprit is thus easier to identify, track down and punish (e.g. in Skyfall from the same year, whose directing Sam Mendes admits was inspired by The Dark Knight, the evil is of a much more unique nature). However, the attempt to depict the anxieties of today is apparent, but leftist liberals will not be enthusiastic about handing over responsibility to heroic members of the police force. ___ At the stylistic level, Nolan doesn’t come up with anything new, but only clarifies and intensifies what he did before. Nolan again pulls out his favourite shot dyad comprising “static dialogue scene – cut to camera moving over the city with a bird’s-eye view”, the exceedingly epic music of Hans Zimmer is again heard from the opening minutes (and thus cannot be further intensified in the truly important scenes, though the musical motifs assigned to the individual characters and their intertwining work very nicely), and there is again a disconnect between the psychologically believable background and the exaggerated action scenes (the assault on the plane in flight is just as good as the tanks and submarines in the Fast & Furious movies). Thanks to the longer shots and more proportionate use of parallel montages, the hand-to-hand fighting and shootouts are clearer.  ___ The structure of The Dark Knight Rises is more ambitious and more clearly arranged than that of the two preceding films. After the fight between Batman and Bane (which happens roughly at the mid-point of the film), there is a fade-out and the initial distribution of powers is overturned. Evil comes to the surface; good is sidelined. In the second half, with its livelier plot, the pace is significantly faster, because there is the necessity of developing motifs and concluding the storylines not only from the first half of the film (the bomb, the removal of Selina from the most-wanted list), but also from the first two films (Ra’s al Ghul, Scarecrow, the lie about Dent), which leads to the sometimes ridiculous attempt to convey truly a lot of information in a short time (I was impressed by the scene in which the characters are waiting for Marion Cotillard’s character to slowly say what she has to say while a bomb ticks a few meters away with only a few tens of seconds remaining until it is set to explode). The narrative, which is made more suspenseful by the establishment of a rapidly shortening deadline (23 days, 18 hours, 45 minutes, then 11 minutes pass, and then five minutes remain), basically doesn’t slow down until the end. In retrospect, the first half thus seems like an eighty-minute, mostly dialogue-driven, character-developing prologue for eighty minutes of thrilling action. ___ The Dark Knight Rises succeeds in being both truly dark and incredibly thrilling, albeit at the cost of unconvincing plot twists, odd confusion of ideas and expressive ponderousness and literalism, but if every attempt at making a monumental cinematic spectacle ended in a similar "failure", I wouldn’t complain. 85% Appendix: A lot of reviews address the speed with which characters travel between the prison and Gotham. According to one of the lines uttered in the film, the prison is located in the “ancient part of the town”, not somewhere in Africa or the Middle East, so it shouldn’t be such a problem to get to Gotham even on foot.

The narrative of To Rome with Love offers poor justification for the transparent attempt to cram into the film as many shots of picturesque Roman lanes and attractive tourist locations as possible – if the Italian way of life is thematised, it is without any sense of detachment, from the perspective of a person who is uncritically enthusiastic about everything Italian (food, opera, historical sights and the language, which are among the few aspects that make watching this film a tolerable experience). There is a minimum of jokes that require the viewer to think (and it’s better not to think too much even about the few better lines that Allen kept for himself) – more often, something “humorously” falls on someone or someone is caught in flagranti with someone else and, most often, i.e. through most of the film, nothing funny happens at all. Resignation to a more complexly constructed narrative – the stories are not connected by anything except the city and the subject of love, nor are they in any way intertwined, and due to their varying degrees of fantasticalness, it would have made more sense if one had just followed the end of the previous one. Blatant sexism in the treatment of the female characters – the more three-dimensional heroines (Greta Gerwig, Judy Davis) are given significantly less space than the passionate Anna, the superficial Monica and the unsophisticated Milly, for whom intimate contact with a man she only recently met is as natural a part of the day as morning hygiene. The hackneyed plots and the shared wisdom – if you are lenient enough to accept that Allen is telling us something other than “I visited Rome and had a wonderful time”. There is an excess of Allen’s neuroticism, probably in an attempt to save time on coming up with new characters – three agitated male characters are too many for one film. The result? Woody Allen’s weakest comedy (and I’ve seen What’s Up, Tiger Lily?). 50%

At the idea level, Moonrise Kingdom is basically a live-action version of Fantastic Mr. Fox, but with greater interest in the juvenile protagonist, who in Anderson’s film is equal to the adult protagonists (which is nicely shown in the partner relationship between Captain Sharp and Sam). This time, the king of indie films expresses his reluctance to leave the realm of childhood and to give up the wilderness and his own nature in favour of civilisation with a strong tinge of nostalgia (which somewhat clashes with several unexpectedly grown-up scenes of youthful first love). Even his inimitable playfulness sometimes has to give way to it. The banality of some of the plot twists and character transformations, which is the result of having too many characters and the effort to appropriately reward each of them, contrasts with the incredible degree of care put into each shot. The jokes don’t scream for our attention and it perhaps isn’t even possible to catch all of them or, as the case may be, find them in the mise-en-scéne on the first viewing. Anderson is able to work with the setting with a similar imaginativeness and poetic sense of space as, for example, Jacques Tati. Unlike Tati, however, he works with smaller areas (the Bishops’ home gives the impression of a dollhouse thanks to its “fragmentation” into individual rooms) as well as panoramas of more expansive exterior spaces so that they seem very flat (perhaps like side-scrolling video games). My admiration for the meticulousness and imaginativeness with which the film was made (i.e., not made up) outweighed my enchantment this time, but even so, it is still a huge shift in my attitude, since a few years ago I ranked Anderson among the directors that I would never even remotely be friends with. 85%