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It's much more of a game (with the viewer) than an interactive film. There aren't many crazy or surprising choices, the main character sooner or later falls into deep psychological states that cannot be avoided, and whether they like it or not, they simply have to chat with the slippery Colin as part of the plot. Not to mention the choices within choices themselves, which only fulfill the concept (choice of cereals and music), without changing the story or helping the interactivity. I see the trolling of the viewer characteristic of Charlie Brooker in the endings, at least in five basic ones. Two of them are purely depressing and do not solve anything within the plot, two are such a crazy departure that despite their entertainment value, they seemed like a waste of time to me already during the first viewing. The last one (the train), paradoxically, the one I ironically did not make it to on my first attempt, seems to me to have the only true ending, yet it lacks better catharsis, proper emotions, something that would make it the right choice and not just the least bad one. It's not a dead end, quite the opposite. The chilling rabbit hole with the meta idea of a film with choices about a game with choices based on a book with choices is fantastic. I just feel like they gave up on it halfway through.

The story of Marty and Rust has begun to fade in the distance, which helped to show that this was definitely an atmospheric spectacle, but certainly not a groundbreaking moment in television history. That's why it's good that it's starting in a completely different environment, the urbanistic Vinci. Politicians and police here are happy to make some extra money on the side, the chain of erotic services is thriving, and there's always something stinky happening. The death of one of the local bigwigs sets off a chain of events, leaving behind a few dead bodies – and maybe something more. And it's an interesting chain of events, so it's all the more disappointing that, just like before, there are deep and meaningful dialogues, but without Matthew McConaughey's unique character (and voice) they lack meaning and just seem like a bad joke. Moreover, the action scene at the end of the fourth episode forces us to wonder if it's really there just to surpass the legendary shootout from the same episode of the previous season. Fortunately, however, what's reversed is the progression. The first season started in a grand style, only to fizzle out a bit in the end. Instead, the Californian anabasis deceives the body, as nothing seems to happen for five hours, and then, just when the more impatient viewers have already given up on the whole thing, it introduces a deadly atmosphere of a pulsating hostile environment and justifies the initial sluggishness with a perfectly functioning finale. After everyone was showering McConaughey with acting honors not long ago, I'm surprised that there's silence after Rachel McAdams, who is cast against type, and the flawless wreck portrayed by Colin Farrell, who found the role of a lifetime with a cigarette and a drink in just a few lines. In short, True Detective is a story and a series full of contradictions. While it seemed to be for everyone after eight episodes, after sixteen more there are multiple camps pitted against each other. But for me, it's a guarantee of (specific, but undeniable) quality.

Being close to the battle between light and darkness may not always pay off, but in some conflicts, it does. I felt right at home in this world of forests, visions, antlers, strange inhabitants, and Rusty's rambling monologues, despite the initial difficulties in getting on the right track. It is clear to anyone who has come across this profile that the forever furious Woody Harrelson and the worn-out Matthew McConaughey steal all of True Detective for themselves, but that's all right. Every conversation or disagreement is played out to perfection, and it is precisely the bond between the two main characters that leaves such a positive impression after the first story. The longer they know each other, the more they differ, and paradoxically, the more interconnected they are. Unfortunately, during moments when both are fully focused on investigating the murder, my attention wandered in all directions due to the deliberate pace, with no help but the promise of hearing yet another opaque metaphor. It wasn't until the final two episodes that I finally got into the search for clues, but I could have done without the somewhat forced switching of timelines at the beginning. In short, we have been treated to an audiovisual and acting masterpiece; most of the rumors about this exceptional event were true. However, the reasons for suddenly condemning television productions outside of HBO remain a greater mystery to me than the identity of the central killer was to this main odd couple.

While Ryan Murphy had two good ideas for the individual seasons, he also had another idea: to mix them together and get one of the best seasons of the anthology against all expectations. Apart from the main plot of what might happen in the future, this is above all a properly strengthened sequel to the American Horror Story third season, Coven, as well as an impressive epilogue to the first season, Murder House; and in the latter case, there are more than a few references and cuts to previous seasons. Paradoxically, it is in the pivotal and rightfully beloved episode "Return to Murder House" that a certain division occurs, transitioning from the absolute zenith of the AHS universe to attractive experimentation and genre fooling around, where a robotic storyline with the crazy duo of Evan Peters-Billy Eichner remains sufficiently entertaining, but flirting with an Illuminati parody crosses a certain line between gentle absurdity and unrestrained satire. The finale then brings everything back to ninety percent, as it is suspenseful, deeply emotional, and ingeniously headed in the right direction. And yet I am falling just short of giving it the highest rating, perhaps because the sixth season, Roanoke, to me felt even more polished. Two big acting pluses for Sarah Paulson, who is more beautiful at forty-four than ever before, and for finally being able to sell me on Cody Fern, who has been popping up everywhere lately and is more than capable. I couldn't warm up to him for a long time, but as Michael, he's fantastic in every aspect.

Season 1 – 85% – A long time ago we used to be friends. My perpetually elusive fata morgana. I find it ironic that I ultimately caught up with her after the age of thirty, because I know other teen phenomena that are maybe a bit older (Dawson's Creek, Roswell) but much better, and even One Tree Hill, which debuted only a year earlier, I still consider the pinnacle of the genre. If Veronica Mars had reached me at the right time, it could easily have been the best series of my life, but I still enjoyed the first introduction incredibly. It behaves surprisingly 90s given when it was created, and at the same time fascinates by rising above the era. It effortlessly combines inventive and ordinary plots with long-term storylines, some of which can easily sleep for half a season – only for it to return triumphantly to them in the end. Rob Thomas was simply an innovator and I appreciate now, after years, how it is possible that Kristen Bell has such a powerful fan club. With a good ten years of removal, I also begin to understand why, at the time, the name Jason Dohring resonated across fandoms and TV forums, despite the fact that he did not win me over as an actor and just lets everything play out naturally with his charisma and mischievous expression. In terms of the actors, this is an absolutely adorable ensemble cast, because even the more important characters (Duncan, Wallace) are played with a smile at best in the beginning, but I enjoy the enthusiasm of everyone involved and the casting of the supporting roles. So far I have yet to see an episode where there isn't a guest appearance by someone I know from another TV production who is simply crossing paths with Veronica Mars. The most pleasing in a small role was my favorite rogue, Theo Rossi, or that matador Alyson Hannigan. And when I look at the whole series over and over again, it devastates me that there are only three cases left. Season 2 – 85% – I thought our story was epic, you know, you and me. Spanning years and continents. Lives ruined, bloodshed. EPIC. When I said how much it saddened me that I would only get three regular seasons and therefore three cases, I didn't know how many storylines the writing team could cram into a single year. Buses, comas, rats, children, Jackie, Terrence, Woody, Gia, chlamydia, financial fraud, cover-ups, gangs, the FBI, escapes across the border, podcasts, plot twists in court rulings, adoptive parents, real parents, and a lot of hormones in just twenty-two episodes? The "previously on" is like gold, because I would otherwise have gotten lost right at the beginning in the dozens of plotlines that sometimes lead to a dead end and other times triumphantly merge into a fitting explanation. I can only admire the combination of mystery, sarcasm, and timely melodrama, even though some of the supporting characters and storylines, which take up a lot of space (Wallace going from being almost a loner to being an omnipresent ladies' man), are a bit too much for me. Season 3 – 85% – Why bother with something not good just because it's something? It looked for a long time like the change of scenery also brought a seemingly inevitable step down in quality, but fortunately, that was only the first story arc. The campus rapist may seem like a welcome topic, but perhaps because of the strong influx of new characters among whom the original characters can only fumble for their place, it felt somewhat forced. Symbolically, with a nerve-wracking resolution of the case and the beginning of a (murderous) new case, the old good Veronica is back, but when it comes to tension, Kristen Bell's acting performances, or perfect sarcasm (Logan, Mac) and dialogue (Veronica and Keith), I was surprised that it was the obvious high point of the series. It's a shame that this overly complicated knot was not untangled until the last episode, and so while the last mystery is solved, it seems almost inappropriate in such a small space. Last but not least, I have to say that when I refused to watch Veronica for many years because she never got a proper ending, I was right. The finale is filled with events and a somewhat unexpected (but not unwelcome) nostalgia for the beginnings, but at the same time, it does not lead to any complete resolution or even take so much as a step towards it. The melancholic mood naturally suits the subgenre of SoCal noir, but to stay hanging in the long years of summer rain would for me as a viewer be a kind of purgatory. Veronica Mars (2014) – 80% – People say I'm a marshmallow. And when I see how many people boast in their reviews that they never followed the series but eagerly jumped on the movie and then had no idea what was going on, so they give it a low rating, I don't know whether to laugh or cry at the (lack of) intelligence of the individual reviewers. But let sleeping dogs lie. The film, which was originally supposed to be a slipshod gift for the fans, is an ode to one of the most adored teenage series and an unbelievably precise work. The decision to develop the case around the high school reunion, though unfortunate because it revolves around characters that nobody really remembers – and the real players Wallace, Mac, and Weevil have (as in any great plot) only a symbolic role, but works perfectly on the personal level. Despite the surprisingly abundant involvement of Piz, who never grew close to my heart. Perhaps that's why it is so obvious who was always the right one for Veronica and who the overwhelming majority of viewers will always want to see her with, even though the analogy with another dose of drugs surprisingly lands. As Jason Dohring himself said, "higher highs, lower lows". All of this would probably work even better in the form of a miniseries, but I believe that seven years after the series was cancelled, such a morsel had to feel like fresh water for all Marshmallows everywhere. Season 4 – 70% – Appealingly teetering between the light-hearted whodunit from the days of the classic series and the adult mood of the film, thankfully most of the time in the former case thanks to new additions (Matty is gold) or glimpses into the past. But even though I marathoned the third series just a few dozen hours before the unexpectedly early release of new episodes, some of those who cut cameo roles had aged so much that it wasn't until some time later that I could smack my forehead and understand the context. But I'm all the more grateful for so many (often genuinely unexpected) comebacks. It's a shame, though, that this is happening in a story that has had to borrow even such hackneyed tropes as Mexican cartels or political candidates, which have regularly appeared in perhaps every procedural of the last few decades. It undermines (and unfortunately unjustifiably) the awesome feeling that Neptune, as a place both beautiful and dangerous, still exudes in full force. A big thank you, therefore, for focusing on the three most popular characters. Indeed, the banter between Veronica and Keith is perhaps even more pure comedic gold, and the relationship with Logan has again reached the point where the issues being addressed are serious problems and not just melodrama. The calm Logan with Jason Dohring's mature face is the gem I was expecting and got in even more ways than imaginable. So it's a comeback almost with full force, even if Rob Thomas has lost that ease with which he pulled off individual plots and twists over the years, and that's part of the reason why the revival is a step weaker than the school seasons. As for the final (and really perfectly effective in terms of the emotional stakes) episode, I am still shaking my head helplessly even several days after watching it. Even after the initial excitement has worn off and the explanation of why what happened had to happen has been given, I don't buy or understand the reasons given. As sympathetic as I have always been to the intentions of the main filmmaker, I lost touch with him at the last second.

I can understand that Lena Dunham needed to vent about her personal health problems. And yet I do not understand why she does it in the form of the uptight Kathryn, who from the outset discourages any further engagement. The rest of the group consists of people who are either cranky or downright unbearable. Moreover, it is such a heterogeneous group that I cannot imagine anyone from the audience truly falling in love with them and being able to see them as anything other than a bizarre sociological experiment. The final nail in the coffin of all potential is the decision to cast possibly the most multi-faceted actor in television, David Tennant, in the thankless role of a stunted man with a hat. And even he, no matter how much the script constantly tries to elevate all the male characters to a plane where they admire the most obnoxious character, the cunning and worn-out Jandice, here he seems like the only man you can at least partially identify with. Thank heavens that  Camping only ran for one season. These campers are petty people – and they won't get any better over time.

For the random passerby this is the tidiest Christmas romance produced in heaps by the likes of Lifetime. For the One Tree Hill fan (and honestly, I can't imagine that anyone else other than me has found their way to the The Christmas Contract on this database), it's an optimistic revelation. Within the first ninety seconds, Peyton, Clay, Rachel, and Skills appear on the scene, playing songs by Tyler Hilton throughout the entire runtime (an almost laughably obvious advertisement right in the mouths of the main characters), and despite the leaky sieve of a plot, there's nothing left to do at the end but rejoice. Many thanks for an unexpected gift and for the fact that the power of OTH has not waned overseas even six years after the end of the series.

The essence of adventure, which I haven't seen in a long time and which I still go to the cinema to find, written specifically for the rugged couch potato with the most likable dose of pure testosterone in his pocket. In the excitement of amazing special effects, unstoppable pacing, and spot-on casting, I easily forget how much the journey and combination of comic book themes resemble its neighbors from Marvel, specifically Thor and Black Panther. But for once, such imitation works perfectly, maybe because it easily shows its own face and with every major attraction (a battle between brothers, Sicily, the Depths), it shows how much heart and enthusiasm the creators, led by James Wan, put into it. Therefore, I wish the best of luck to those perpetual complainers, who were the loudest in complaining that DC comic adaptations are being taken too seriously, so they can now object intensely about carefree coloring books. However, after Wonder Woman, I myself can definitively say that infinitely interconnected worlds and teams are outdated in this universe, and innovative solo performances, mining their thankless world to the last drop, are on the right path.

The rumors didn't lie, at least not in terms of paying tribute to mothers and women in general. However, at the core of the whole epic, there is nothing but confirmation of the known truth that, in the end, the fairer sex is stronger and more prepared for life. The skill with which Alfonso Cuarón builds a complex dramatic arc in the midst of what seems to be an ordinary situation is undeniable. The only problem for me, one that persists throughout the entire film, is the way the twists are delivered. Very few things bother me as much as when a character indulges in long, uninterrupted shots during an instantly induced depression. It's nothing more than a call for artificial attention that causes the cohesion of family and life's upheavals to crumble before my eyes.

The production is so well tailored to patient Potter fans that it's killing me, as it doesn't stand a chance of being heartfelt for anyone else. It has everything, but most of it in such trace amounts that anyone who isn't satisfied by the fact that it's mostly just a glimpse at historical parallels and genealogical research will be disappointed. Once again, the most introverted action hero of all time takes us through the world of both magic and non-magic, but for those who haven't spent the past two years exploring diverse fan theories, the moments when new species of animals want to enchant us again in a hundred and one ways are not enough. The world of the audience has understandably begun to forget, and it will be even worse in two years' time. Although Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald lends tension and anticipation to the story wonderfully, this time it isn't the usual closed dramatic arc that we are accustomed to from the wizarding world. It is explicitly assumed that the viewer remembers even the more fleeting emotional moments from the first installment and the third installment again leaves a very precarious foundation for an open ending, a narrative betrayal unknown to the Hogwarts saga. I understand the audience's confusion: it is not possible to turn to the books for hints and answers, which many of them still consider a betrayal by J.K. Rowling. I don't, because I am extremely grateful that this world can open up to us again and again, and I barely breathed during the touching nostalgia of the outlines of that most beautiful castle. The change of scenery is finally complete, the deceit is over.