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A big beater that goes about it differently – and very cleverly. Thanks to Edwards's thoughtful staging, choice of camera angles and point-of-view shots, we don't just watch the protagonists, we are them or with them most of the time. And the expectation game set up with this, which often misses a spectacular scene at its best (the absolutely phenomenal sequence at the Hawaiian airport is a prime example). This may annoy some people, as the monsters have long been shown only on the basis of visual cues from the human perspective, but for me it's an unbeatable masterstroke that builds an atmosphere almost as dense as James Wan's. The story is not overwhelmed by unnecessary diversion, but rather balanced between its Japanese models and the requirements of American blockbusters (spectacular action and visuals + clearly developed personal conflicts and the story of the main character). The spectacular action is truly spectacular (the entire final half hour in "hell" and the breathtaking parachute jump), and the human heroes are not annoying, both because of the brilliant casting (even the routine role of the militant boss is played by the charismatic Strathairn), and because they serve a secondary function in the eyes of the narrative, and their actions and perspective continually set the stage for the main stars – the monsters. In short, everything is so well put together that the story itself doesn't even have to make complete sense – an incredible win for a monster blockbuster. 90% By the way, it amazes me that the editors of Moviezone, people so widely familiar with filmmaking language and genres, can't appreciate such an impressive big film. Perhaps they should stop with the navel gazing every now and then.

Visually and musically, a breathtaking experience. Burton proves with every shot that in the 1990s there was no one who could adapt the mood of the scenes exclusively to the nature and colours of the environment so thoughtfully. Many of the scenes are absolutely brilliant and the thick atmosphere presses the viewer into their seat, the actors led by the then still likeable Depp, Gambon and the traditionally demonic Walken only accentuate everything good. It's just a pity that the film gradually fits more and more into the box of innocent fable, which by its deliberate expressiveness and self-awareness knocks the otherwise peculiar horror story down a notch from the highest filmmaking league. Still, there has probably never been a better made and more entertaining homage to the scary genre in Hollywood. 85%

The third sequel of the best adventure franchise set itself a difficult task: not to thematically continue, but to further develop the character of the individual stories, which always unfolded according to which genre and cultural corners of cinema the episode was referring to, while at the same time paying a nostalgic tribute to its own predecessors in a time of prevailing attractions. Both were successful. From the first scene, Spielberg both sets the story in a new phase full of new potential formulas for an adventure film (the 1950s marked by Western and Eastern hostility, the nuclear threat and a culture brimming with science fiction), and humorously winks at the viewer with an amusing iconisation of the beloved main character and formal devices that directly reference the original trilogy. And from this point of view, far from falling apart under the filmmakers' hands, as many have mentioned, the story brilliantly and systematically capitalises on all the suggested "50s" motifs, right up to the final alien interlude (similar to the way the second film, for example, played beautifully with Bollywood mythology, or Indian stories in general), while constantly entertaining with the tried and tested, but again inventively delivered "Indy" form (almost nothing is missing of the main attractions of the previous films), and the interaction of the old characters (Ford kind of moves into Connery's position). The only thing that bothered me a lot this time is the exaggeration of otherwise entertaining action scenes (the mine carts in the second one were also out of reality, but they still look like a viable tourist attraction compared to being kicked by a nuke and triple-dropping down a giant waterfall), the less elaborate villains and sometimes rather ugly sets. But it’s still highly entertaining and superbly acted (Ford pulls it off like in his youth, but he is well supported by LaBeouf and Ray Winstone, whose character of a "triple" agent is another great reference to the fifties) and packed with so many funny details (e.g. ants carrying away a stray hat after the most extensive action scene) that it is impossible not to love this Indy. When the greats like Spielberg and Lucas are no longer walking the earth, it will be difficult for our generation to be so perfectly returned to our childhood.

Die Hard is history! And Bruce Willis can go bury himself. Dwayne "Super-Super-Super-Ultrahero" Johnson has finally found his magnum opus, and I applaud, moved and teary-eyed, in an empty theatre. A wonderfully entertaining first-rate answer to all the inferior and illogical action crap with the aforementioned Die Hard leading the way. Grandiose and endlessly creative popcorn flick for all who love The Rock and his standard of craftsmanship (so, of course, for everyone). The scene on the crane is the best adrenaline ride in history. Bottom line, an artisanal rip-off of action legends for an inoffensive three stars. Or you don’t get the irony?

I really like this seemingly corny trash. Jack Arnold was an excellent director who did not let the theme around a giant killer tarantula turn into a ridiculous show of limited technical possibilities and creative repetitiveness (in the sense of copying the usual methods of the popular monster movies of the time). Tarantula has convincing and clever special effects, creepy make up, likeable actors, and above all a steady directorial hand that keeps the pace of the narrative and stages some delicious moments of arachnophobic nightmare. The exposition may not have the same power, and at times Arnold is forced to repeat himself to wean the hundred-foot eight-legged beast out of the characters' reach long enough for their personal development to be resolved, but it's still one of the most entertaining and most confidently crafted B-movies of the 1950s.

A quite effective reflection on the possibility and impossibility of free choice through repressed and exploding sexuality. Unremarkable in terms of direction and motivationally flimsy despite a strong main theme, but satisfying to the point of chilling in terms of character psychology and visual courage. It’s mostly pulled forward by the actors, led by Weisz and the traditionally perfect McAdams, who in my eyes once again consolidates her position as the most beautiful and talented film actress of today – I really enjoyed this role of hers. :) 70%.

One fine chase, the very fine boobs of Alexandra Daddario and an unbearable pile of screenwriting garbage and idiocy. It has pace and even atmosphere at times, but compared to the brilliant original, it doesn't feel even like a deliberately dumbed-down, fanmade product for today's youth (yeah, I wish it was deliberate). I want a depressing and minimalist sequel that will draw the protagonists into an unrelenting vortex of disgusting moral and physical decadence, not this moderate drivel... 30%

The plot already lacks originality and the combination of buddy detective movie with family comedy doesn't work like in the great third part, but it's still fun. Chris Rock and Joe Pesci are both for numbers this time, but the attractiveness is greatly enhanced by the villainous butcher Jet Li, who delivers perhaps the best role of his Hollywood career. And you can see from the finale that this series was beloved by everyone involved – and me too, after all. 70%

A lame plot with bland characters, a weak script, and an all-too-routine execution with which Connolly would like to follow the steps of Scorsese et al, even though he's far from having the chops. Only Travolta holds it slightly above water.

There is no other film in the world that so purely and beautifully shows the mood of its creator as E.T. Spielberg spent his childhood more or less without a father, as a rather asocial dork from the suburbs, with his mind drifting to the stars – those in the sky and those in Hollywood. E.T. is his personal confession, a sentimental return to a stage in his life when it was easier to tell important values apart and to define right from wrong. It’s a brilliantly directed story about the fact that important things must persist in the human heart, even though fate takes them away irretrievably. A film with so many inventive techniques (a good two-thirds are only from a child's perspective), real emotions and beautifully staged scenes (the arrival of the "bad guys" in the house and the play with lighting, the romantic kiss and the play with cross-cutting and character positions, the flight over the moon, etc.) that there is no time to breathe. A film with a huge heart and probably John Williams's best soundtrack. A film with a capital F that you have to love. You just have to…