novoten

Guessing is not in my nature. Spock coolly and slyly delivers lines, Kirk becomes enraged, and in a pleasantly 80s spirit, he flirts with the biologist and Star Trek gets inspiration and with it, fortunately, quality. Paradoxically, though, where a taxi driver almost runs over an admiral, they turn Čechov into a spy, and McCoy curses at doctors. All of this puts together the best episode, but at the same time, it makes one wonder if a similarly inventive trip can be qualitatively repeated.

Fans of Star Wars know each other and will be happy. Trekkies recognize each other, get offended, and eventually they will be happy too. Because Fanboys bring a ride straight from Kevin Smith's workshop and along with that, treats like geeky versions of Kristen Bell or arrogant William Shatner. And even though I don't belong to either of these groups, I enjoy their sense of humor even more. And don't forget: Nobody calls Han Solo a bitch..

The world of the Star Fleet is surprisingly covered with mystique this time, but unfortunately very dull. Lengthy dramatic dialogues that don't help, twists indicating a concocted mess that the creators don't know how to handle, and a disgracefully sterile environment punctuated by ridiculous tricks (the Klingon dog will haunt me for a long time). Only the images of Genesis and the unbelievable charisma of Shatner save the first hour, without which the Enterprise (which retirement is this already?) would perhaps not have returned. It is not until the moment of negotiations with the Klingons that something finally starts that can be called good sci-fi. This is caused by Kirk's determination, a believable and tangible bond with Spock, and several plot twists that prove that even in Star Trek, we can expect the addition of emotional fuel. The end of one face comes at the last minute in this episode. To repeat for the fourth time that Scotty never really rests and that James T. Kirk would still gladly be a captain would be a trip to hell. Fortunately, it was an unforgettable Journey Home.

As a horror comedy, somewhat problematic as a mysterious spectacle, but surprisingly successful as a war drama. Michael Mann didn't deny his talent for improving suspicious-looking scripts, and with the help of an ethereal soundtrack and Ian McKellen's indescribably charismatic performance, even though he speaks with a plastic blinking figurine, he managed to create an interesting atmosphere, albeit occasionally faltering due to the lack of a defined genre. However, I wouldn't search for the potential of a masterpiece like "Unforgiven" in this cursed stronghold.

As long as everyone is kind, honest, nice, and caring or vice versa, mean and deceitful, I grinned about the fact that it may not be meant so black and white seriously. But as soon as the main hero gives the first reasons for sympathy and Mandy Moore sings on stage, there is no doubt that I will find myself in this. A sweet and painful romance as it should be, including an exaggerated final pathos, but also sincere tearjerker moments.

Honest commentary for the worst movie of my life. Nothing makes sense, nothing is funny, and nothing belongs anywhere. If you ever had to avoid something, it is this pseudofilm.

Beauty Amanda Holden, the legendary duo of comedians Ant+Dec or perhaps the demigod of sarcasm Simon Cowell? Choosing the personality you look forward to is the most pleasant obligation. When I add the avalanche of amazing contestants and the undeniably flawless audio-visual side (you simply can't choose a better soundtrack!), the best reality show I have ever seen emerges.

New atmosphere of the old world. As soon as the story began to unfold on tracks lined with robotics and also intertwined with honest drama, I successfully slipped back to where the last episode of Battlestar involuntarily took me. Into the lives of living characters, whose destinies I want to see in as much detail and for as long as possible. A very urgent dramatic arc, supported by an increasingly psychological-futuristic hologram, elevates it to an unforgettable, as expected, Bear McCreary. Although his intoxicating drums are rare, since there will still be plenty of time for battles with the Cylons, the beautifully interwoven core of relationships provides more than enough space. The path to the destruction of civilization has never been so promising and tempting.

While the newcomer's scheme in a closed and highly suspicious group works perfectly, and Milo surprisingly enjoys his talented pathologist, attempts at hard music already have varying quality. I can handle burning sexual desire or more aggressive versions of Players with the reel, but drug breaths with fresh corpses or a change in the key character towards a psychopathic direction, not anymore.

Tolkien's world adoration packed into two hours with literally distasteful addition of omnipresent clichés. The Lord of the Rings screams from every other shot, but the cameraman's copied flyovers and sweeps quickly start to fade away, just like futile attempts at any mythology (see clumsy king reminiscing about old times or hilariously failed attempt at creating their own elves). Boll simply hit hard and dragged down everyone involved. Besides the fact that they brought shame upon solid actors like Liotta or Lillard, unfortunately even Statham, the sympathetic character, gets lost in the flimsy parody of Aragorn. And when it turns out at the end that the main villain actually made no sense at all, that's a real blow to the head.