Isherwood

Values (moral, personal, familial), likable anti-American critique (toothless, inoffensive), action with only one truly distinctive scene (the warehouse), and the strangled potential of wanting to play out at least one of the themes a little stronger. Or, it’s a perfectly Hollywood fluffy nothing that is held afloat only by Kinnaman's undeniable charisma. 3 ½.

The definition of filmmaking retardation and the perfect anti-discipline of what school is really like. I mean, yeah, there are probably some model situations from life in there, but the forcefully-pushed wannabe cool style combined with the noticeably sloppy just won't score any points with audiences.

If you choose an independent, anarchic ride across the City of Angels as a catalyst for your dislike of the studio system, it might not hurt to treat the characters a little (in)humanly and bring the insane whirlwind of shit to a more impactful end. I understand what Carnahan is trying to achieve with his message, but in the last third, he starts to push it in an overly obvious and predictable way. On the other hand, I won’t deny my desire to watch the film again. 3 ½.

It's nice to see a film that makes you laugh out loud, quietly lament its hipster message, and yet only really makes you think by having (almost) everyone sing at the end.

There is power in simplicity, even if the monstrous epic tempts many viewers to seek complex interpretations. The power of Nolan's narrative lies in confronting the fundamental life decisions of a handful of people about the future of homo sapiens at the expense of personal interests and desires. Let us take those scientific lessons, limited to the described tables, which we do not understand anyway, as a glittering decoy toward a dead end. The sweeping cinematography and roaring music are meant to give the impression of a major space adventure, and yet, thanks mainly to the terrific cast, it's really one big cliché about a father-daughter relationship where the question is whether the journey through the wormhole will help them see each other again. I really didn't expect myself to be so sensitive and that at the end of it, I would cheer for it wholeheartedly. It was actually nice to get something completely different in the movie theater than I originally expected and that the whole colossus worked. This is particularly true when I sat in front of the screen with a certain amount of skepticism thanks to the diametrically opposed responses. [But I don't deny that everything negative you read about the film is true. And yet so are the positives.]

Marvel is a cult, outwardly accessible to everyone and open to unconventional souls for whom building their universe may be the ultimate peak stint. Yet inwardly, it is bound by the hard doctrine of Kevin Feige's infallibility and unwillingness to let go of the reins of even one brand. Cap steps into it quite uncompromisingly and holds on for a long time. The contact fights are once again cool, the plot is not a stupid rehash of traditional clichés, and the main villain enters with a really unprecedented vigor (excellently supported by Jackman's musical theme). The bad thing is that the grand rules of destruction have to be respected and in the end, everything collapses into a traditional 0 1 mess and the thriller game in the old-world tone becomes bitter in but a few moments (moreover, it stops being clear). I believe the Russo brothers had a very free creative hand on set, but the concrete dramaturgy for years to come must inevitably lead to hell. [I'd be quite interested to see how Shane Black zigzagged in IM3, as he more or less manages it here for almost 100 minutes].

Hit me over the head with an Orb, but this well-shot but desperately unimaginative action should have been saved by an unconventional group of superheroes, and yet they sprinkle the witty dialogue in there so stiffly that I wondered if I was in another galactic quadrant; or how important it is to have a solo act.

The script profiles the characters and situations seriously as if they all have cancer, turning an established brand into a product that delivers the most ridiculous result by a mile in terms of the ambition/performance ratio; Mikkelsen is a casting blunder, acting brilliantly but completely negating the point of the character with his Nordic coolness.

As the lightning struck a lone tree by the roadside, I began to suspect where the director's path would lead. This is because Derrickson's undoubted talent was given a financial infusion and bigger-name actors, but in doing so, he signed up for the Bruckheimerian devil that relies on clichés and plot banalities in the plot. In fact, it’s not really pulled off even by the few skillfully-conceived scary scenes and instead makes you lament how dysfunctional the chemistry between the characters is. This makes it subjectively about half an hour longer, and slightly more excruciating in the end than the filmmakers intended.

I suspect an agitational order from the Department of Defense selling one of its "based on a true story" films. I do not deny the power of the plot, nor the willingness to bow before the fallen and salute the bereaved. From the middle onwards, I was just terribly annoyed by Berg's direction, which pushes pathos out of the screen (in slow-mo so long that it borders on parody), gradually losing contact with the protagonists, who become nothing more than bodies falling from rocks, covered in bloody welts. The first contact, without music and with a "predator" camera, is flawless, but I simply don't think the constant subjective close-ups of faces create the right action military drama. In the final act, I felt ashamed for the creators. It’s only functional as an acted intermezzo for "Medal of Honor."