Matty

Probably because of the excessive use of “TV-style” close-ups of faces during the tiresome dialogue scenes, Kick-Ass 2 seems like the pilot episode of a series based on the original Kick-Ass. Though it’s budget was only $2 million lower than what Vaughn had, the more demanding action scenes in particular come across as cheaply made and it is immediately apparent from them what was shot live and what was completed in the studio with CGI (Mindy on the roof of the van). However, Wadlow’s inability to offer a lot of entertainment for a little bit of money is not his biggest problem. He mainly doesn’t know what genre he is working in. Whereas the first film managed to maintain a sense of detached satiric humour even during its more brutal moments, Kick-Ass 2 reduces the satire to the hackneyed highlighting of the parallels between money and moral turpitude. Yet several times it does inappropriately soften and become serious (blathering about the fate of superheroes, the deaths of some characters) and a few times it takes a stab at a kind of humour that is (no longer) provocative in some way, but merely simple-minded (the whole Mean Girls story line, more or less). You can’t cross Nolan’s The Dark Knight with gross-out comedy even if you possess a PhD in genetics. The film is similarly – and disturbingly – disjointed in its approach to violence. If the heroes take blows, the shots are longer, without bad-ass background music. Their wounds are painful. Conversely, the violence that the heroes inflict on the villains is cool, with quicker cuts or alternatively in extreme slow-motion so that we can properly enjoy it, and backed by catchy songs. I don’t know if it was intentional, but Wadlow achieves a subversive effect by combining these two ways of framing physical aggression only during the controversial (see the American reviews) scene involving an attempted rape. The scene starts out like something from a thriller, veers into comedy (showing that Motherfucker’s main problem might be his inability to give vent to his sexual frustration) and ends with a chilling return to reality. The film’s inner conflict with the punk essence of the source work is manifested in the ambiguous attempt to make violence appealing and present it as a possible means of self-expression (thanks to which Mindy earns applause in the gym), while also questioning and completely condemning this means of resolving systemic and private problems (see the would-be moralising epilogue). Kick-Ass 2 not only suffers from its pervasive inconsistency, but it also fails on other levels: the haphazard structure of the story with loosely hanging motifs (Uncle Ralph), the hackneyed nature of the plot, the ordinariness of the characters and the banality of the questions that they pose. On the other hand, some scenes are entertaining, the soundtrack is well put together and Chloë Grace Moretz, though still a minor, is simply a grown-up actress in my view. Kick-Ass 2 is good for one viewing, especially if you have already seen all of the other summer blockbusters. Actually, I feel sorry for this film only in relation to the first one, which was refreshing with its indecorousness and was truly kick-ass. The weaker sequel lacks the courage to dive headlong into the action, instead spending most of the time only engaging in a kind of diligent ass-licking. 55%

Blue-collar worker – a member of the working class who strives to make a living off manual labour. There is no fearless (black) hero spending his nights planning the heist of the century. If anything, he will want to earn money for himself, not change the way things are. Blue Collar is neither blaxploitation nor a heist movie, whose genre simplifications Paul Schrader rejects in his directorial debut. The crime dimension was suppressed in favour of the social dimension. Schrader is interested in the ordinary worker providing for his family and whose main enemies are the people in charge and whose main allies should be the labour unions. That is, in an ideal society. Not in American society at the end of the crisis-ridden (Watergate, oil embargo, Vietnam syndrome) 1970s, when few trusted those who stood above them. The production lines must not stop, regardless of the victims of the system. Uncle Sam would not like that. The trio of friends from Detroit, Motor City, slowly come to the realisation that the government (ordinary people in charge) is not supporting them. That’s an obvious fact today, but it was a relatively fresh discovery at that time. Together with Taxi Driver (for which Schrader wrote the screenplay), this film ranks among the darkest works that the new generation of Hollywood filmmakers served up back then. People corrupted, society plundered. Money and power endure more than friendship. Schrader directs without any pathos. He doesn’t use music and he doesn’t judge. He shows. He doesn’t explain the details. He doesn’t have to. In order for us to understand, it’s enough that he familiarises us with the situation of the characters, who are of greater interest to him than the action (which is aided by the solid acting of Keitel and Kotto, as well as the atypically non-comedic Pryor). Schrader leaves open spaces between the scenes, so that one is not closely tied to another. It’s as if what happens between them is out of his control and inevitable. A genre film would not have allowed such under-tightening of the screws and would have promptly offered an answer to every question. Schrader, however, is very well aware of the difficulty of finding the right answers. 80%

Like the first part of Kieslowski’s Three Colours trilogy, Allen’s tragicomic extension of A Streetcar Named Desire is in a blue mood. Blue, which for the emotionally fragile female protagonist is a symbol of tranquillity, is inserted into the film with frequent shots of the sea (which may be one of the reasons that Allen shot the film in San Francisco), and blue is also the colour of the moon in the song that Jasmine nostalgically recalls. The clear classification of the characters in Tennessee Williams’s play gives way to the destabilisation of all roles. With minor success, the two sisters seek their place among men. They are just as unclassifiable in terms of their nature as the film itself is terms of its genre as it oscillates between bitter comedy and pure tragedy. The insertion of current events through numerous flashbacks contribute to the “dual” structure of the narrative. Allen thoughtfully deals with the opposing “before” and “after” lifestyles and, more generally, the lifestyles of the rich and the poor (so the film could be credited with having a slight element of social criticism), and with the contradiction of Jasmine as passive prey and active woman/breadwinner. However, none of the positions and oppositions is permanent or impervious, so the protagonist does not cease to be dependent on others and does not definitively renounce her manners of a well-to-do lady upon arriving at her sister’s place. Jasmine’s sister once looked up to her; if Jasmine wants to survive in her new surroundings and conditions, she must now look up to her sister (both figuratively and literally, as Ginger dominates the shots on her own turf, while Jasmine is a passive beauty and a pampered queen in the world of luxury that her husband provided for her). The restrained camerawork (forget the neuroticism of Husbands and Wives; this film has a much smoother style) helps us to find our bearings in this shifting of forces and changing of roles, which are made authentic by the performances of the two lead actresses (the men are also superbly cast, but they certainly don’t play first fiddle, as they more or less there just to help move things along). Blanchett brings a theatrical loftiness to her portrayal of Jasmine, who literally cannot step out of here role, thus creating a sharp contrast with the more down-to-earth acting of the equally convincing Hawkins. Despite the film’s occasional formalistic rigidity irritating reluctance to give up on making jokes in places and the forcible insertion of themes involving crises, Blue Jasmine is, in comparison with Allen’s previous films, mostly just variously amusing puns, a decently complex study of character collapse and, after quite a long time, a Woody Allen film that the director spent enough time working on that I want to see it more than once. 75%

Africa colonised and poor, but happy. The narration in Rouch’s influential ethno-fictional film, the final part of the so-called Niger Trilogy, was reportedly improvised. Despite that, it’s impossible to resist the suspicion that by symbolically ceding the soundtrack, the director not only gave his protagonists a voice, but also a range of words that they were allowed to use. Their self-representation is limited to the realm of HIS film, as is clearly indicated by the pre-credits introduction, only after which are the words delivered. Rouch thus has complete control over the presented image, obviously shaped to some extent by the presence of the camera, which provokes the actors to engage in grander self-stylisation and overacting, and someone occasionally looks directly into the camera. ___ For them, the conditions for a happy urban life are money, an attractive body and friendship, i.e. the same values that young people in Paris lived for (which is aided by the fact that they chose French and American actors as their role models). The differences between the Third World and the capitalist world are relativised by drawing attention to the youths’ private dreams and troubles. The interchangeability of the two young men’s wishes and the presented stories (most of the film is peculiarly taken up by weekends) contribute to the universal nature of the film, though it also detracts from its criticalness. In the second, more melodramatic half of the film, Eddie picks a fight with an Italian not because of their different skin colour, but because the latter stole Eddie’s girlfriend. If the protagonist was previously happier, that’s only because he was younger. External conditions had no role in that. Only shortly before the ending is it stated that the French are better off, as if this were an immutable fact grounded in history. At the same time, it is implied that Edward has the option to freely leave Côte d'Ivoire, though of course the film neglects the fact that the real conditions of Edward’s life make this impossible. ___ The unfortunate thing about this film is that it was made shortly before the rise of post-colonial discourse, in the light of which it comes across as very backward. Its value today consists in its connection to the French New Wave, for which it provided a production, aesthetic and even ethical model (situations are not to be created, but rediscovered). Godard in particular did not hide his admiration for Rouch’s ability to pin down the essential truth about his social actors (for example, a comparison can be drawn between the self-stylisation of the two African youths and the “Bogartised” Belmondo). 70%

Paul Schrader’s Blue Collar crossed with Paul Verhoeven’s Total Recall. Elysium has a rawer exposition than many artsy social dramas. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, out of the fire and into the shit. Work hard, die in pain. In a setting as equally shabby as that in District 9. Poverty, filth, disorder (the repressive regime makes itself known only when someone penetrates the world of the privileged). But you hope that the melodramatic flashbacks won’t dictate the tone of the narrative and that the film won’t deteriorate into an equally irritating spiritual handbook as Cloud Atlas. Fortunately, that doesn’t happen. Elysium puts up a brave fight against its nicer self – which I would like to believe was imposed by the studio – until the end; only then does the ultimate idealistic softening come. The romantic storyline unfortunately fails due to the brief time that the partners spend together and the intention was probably to make the class struggle a stronger motivation than love. The main objective and uncompromising deadlines are established with B-movie directness: the protagonist wants something and he must do this and that within X number of days at the latest in order to get it. A bonus for the Marxists is that Max’s mission is indirectly motivated by the unfair healthcare system, excessive punishments for illegal migrants and the inequality of citizens who obviously no longer care about race or nationality, but only about social class (in addition to that, an important role in the story is played by the leaking of the powerful elite’s sensitive data to the public, which can only be seen as an allusion to the Wikileaks and Snowden affairs). Given the insidious adoration of capitalism in most Hollywood blockbusters, I consider the indignation expressed by some American critics’ over the naïve propaganda of Elysium, in which the good people are truly good, the bad are seriously bad and any more ambivalence is taboo, to be shortsighted at the very least. Regardless of its ideological essence and the guilelessness with which it presents that essence, Elysium is primarily a brutal, high-octane cyberpunk dystopia with an almost horror-like atmosphere (see, for example, most of the scenes with the monstrous Copley), unpredictable development (the characters act erratically, occasionally something just simply goes wrong and at one point the star system is nicely mocked) and, unfortunately, extremely chaotic action scenes. With the exception of the extreme-slow-motion shots, which are cool thanks to the fact that Blomkamp doesn’t squander them, but I found it very difficult to tell who delivered blows to whom because of the overabundance of cuts. The variability of the direction that the narrative takes makes Elysium one the most video-game-like films of recent years alongside Battle Los Angeles and Dredd. The ending is determined, the course is marked and the specific form of the action depends on the player (who in this case is half man and half machine) and his abilities, and it thus doesn’t necessarily have to be as neatly planned out as in the case of more conventional action. Elysium surely could have provided more material for study (whether that would involve ideology or narratology), but it’s definitely still good as summer entertainment. 75%

Dirty work. Cleanly executed. A western from the old days. One of the last, though it is still paraphrased to this day in the most diverse variations (for example, Fast 5 cannot deny its western spirit). Cinematography that makes the landscape look majestic. Music that makes you want to conquer that landscape. An on top of that, Lee Marvin with a machine gun and a pocket full of dynamite. He’s masculine in every gesture, every brusque line cutting off further/longer discussion. The woman only as a (beautiful) burden. Cynicism and disregard for life are not signs of rottenness; greed is, because money is the real evil. It’s obvious that action scenes were not Richard Brooks’s forte. They are neither long nor clear enough for us to enjoy them, even though they demonstrate the inclination of the time toward more openly depicting violence in mainstream films. The peak of the genre came with The Wild Bunch (whose slow-motion shots allow us to feast our eyes on the spurting blood), a film more radical in its blatant use of violence and the ambivalence of its protagonist. Even so, The Professionals is a western as it should be. 75%

“The Universe is indifferent.” Review of the first season. Reeking of cigarette smoke, Mad Men is a return to the final years of an era when men were still the masters and no one questioned that. A private life belonged to the men, not to the women with their clearly defined role of obedient housewife. Sometimes they bring a bit of it to work, standing in for the bar here, the bedroom there. There is no escape from making money. Work is logically the common denominator of all problems. Regardless of how many lives you live as a working man, you are allowed to go in only one direction – forward. Women paradoxically represented a more important part of male existence back then than they do today. Marriage meant normality and subordination to ubiquitous rules. If they did not manage to adapt to its requirements at the cost of their own identity, adult loners were automatically eliminated by the system. Unapproved extra-marital activities evoke fear. What do others do when they aren’t being watched? ___ Mad Men defies being categorised among dramatic series. At least the real drama doesn’t happen in the long reverberating, often static shots with little in the way of musical backing, but under their surface. As if social conventions did not allow anyone to truly express themselves. What is their true face, what are they aiming for, what do they want? The unreadability naturally creates tension and all kinds of speculation. Every character is a latent psychopath. Don’s inability to take action, a sort of being stuck in one place, is depicted not only in the stock symbol of a red light at an intersection, but also by the outcome of his secret meeting with his brother, when he pulls out of his briefcase only “passive” money instead of the expected gun. The protective outer layers – the fake smiles of housewives like those in soap operas, clothes that fit perfectly and a self-confident demeanour – are peeled away only very slowly. ___ With knowledge of the historical context, i.e. the radicalisation of society in the second half of the 1960s, it is easy to ascertain that the stiffness of the ruling class is receding too slowly. Something has got to give. No matter how obvious it is that something is in the air, nothing happens. The pace isn’t as stultifying as the everyday activities that the characters perform with robotic obedience, but compared to action-packed American series, it is slow enough to draw attention to itself. Other than the occasionally aggressive drawing of attention to period details, the immersive non-action is disrupted mainly by flashbacks, which are detrimental to the patiently built atmosphere and are apparently supposed to add a certain epic scale to the series. Mad Men’s strength consists in its interior intimacy and ability to nicely squeeze out a diverse range of symptoms of what weas ailing American society at the time (and even still today). 80% ___ The second season maintains the high standard and zen-like narrative pace corresponding to the protagonist’s emotional state. Changes do not come suddenly, but are slowly built up over multiple episodes. In accordance with the imperceptible style, the fundamental transformation of society is often indicated by a minute subtle detail, a moment to which the narrative does not return later. Every single one of the actors, on whose faces the camera lingers longer than is usual in a drama series, performs superbly. Thanks also to the diligent depiction of the culture in which they live, it is clear why they make decisions that a liberal intellectual living in the 21st century cannot agree with. Mad Men draws the viewer in slowly, but once it wins you over and you have spent a few hours straight with it, you will then have to get reaccustomed to a world in which sexism and smoking are no longer a natural part of life.

John and Mary recounts a relationship that didn’t begin, which isn’t a bad idea and its execution isn’t bad either: an associational chain of flashbacks (and flashforwards) that are connected with the present physically and not only in the minds of the characters. However, the original and timeless form, most likely inspired by European films, should not have to serve for occasionally forced socio-political commentary. And intelligent conversation of two dissimilar people (a “pure” flower child and a member of the upper crust awash with wealth) and, at the same time, two excellent actors at the beginning of their stellar careers would have sufficed. 70%

With its content and outside interference, Contempt is a cynical deconstruction if the relationship between a man and a woman, and between reality and its artificial representations. Just as Camille and Paul’s marriage disintegrates, there is a dissolution of the line separating real life from fictional stories (Piccoli as Odysseus, Palance as Poseidon and Bardot as the faithful Penelope and treacherous siren – see her adaptation of the bathing scene from Lang’s film). The first shot, which ends with the camera looking into a camera, reveals the chosen approach: a film about filming oneself. It’s as if Godard defied the conscientious fulfilment of the task at hand (a widescreen colour co-production with international stars and based on a famous novel) by means of various subversions and attempted to delay for some time the inevitable end of film, which Auguste Lumière had called an invention without a future. He is not docile in his handling of the film’s main star. For no apparent reason, we see the nude Bardot, whose physical assets are first de-eroticised by a precise description, through a red filter, then yellow and finally blue. Later, the director makes her put on a black wig, thus underscoring the key idea of playing different roles. At the same time, we can see the dark-haired actress as Anna Karina and the whole film as Godard’s relationship therapy. In comparison with Godard’s other films, the style of Contempt is remarkably sedate, though the narrative structure is in some ways reminiscent of his unrefined debut, Breathless (suspension of the narrative through a long inner dialogue), to such an extent that I wonder if Godard was using extraordinarily long yet unexpected cutaways to make fun of intellectual relationship films such as those by upper crust Antonioni, for example. The arrangement of the inanimate mise-en-scéne (colours, spaces) often tells us more about the characters and how they relate to each other than the dialogue, which typically runs to more general themes or allusions to Godard’s favourite films and filmmakers. Perhaps in conflict with what he intended, Godard ultimately presents proof that real cinema, whose images are not entirely subordinated to the story or spectacle, isn’t dead yet. 80%

Demy’s celebration of life in the rhythm of jazz doesn’t leave all of the dancing to the actors. The camera also dances. Its upward, downward and circular movements are partially motivated by the characters’ movements and partially by musical excess. The intertwining of these two approaches occurs in one of the long opening shots, when the camera, using the characters as points of reference, sails into the room where a ballet lesson is taking place. ___ On the one hand, Demy mines the reservoir of classic Hollywood musicals (quotes from On the Town and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, the casting of Gene Kelly); on the other hand, he breaks the pastel idyll of the world of musicals with subtle subversion of genre conventions. The characters do not always dance in strictly symmetrical lines and in frontally composed shots. Demy doesn’t stick with one angle for long, as he constantly makes us aware of the three-dimensionality of the space, and respecting the centre of the shot is not mandatory for the dancers. On the contrary, the obsessive Berkeley-esque symmetry is parodied by the mirrored dancing of the Gemini twins. After all, the whole story is built on doubling and pairing (of characters, colours, musical motifs), the seeking of opposites that attract. ___ Contrary to Hollywood convention, a substantial part of the film was shot on location, thanks to which the mise-en-scéne of the scenes set in the glassed-in café, which Demy uses as a means of creating a refrain in the rhythmisation of the narrative, is very lively. The characters disrupt this harmonious world here and there with a line such as “He was an asshole” or “(...) so we want to sleep with you", and through the newspapers, Rochefort is touched a few times by rather heinous crimes (the victim of one such crime was supposed to be a woman with the artistic pseudonym of Lola, which is an obvious reference to Demy’s debut film). Between the lines, it is thus self-reflexively acknowledged that the levity of the presentation only draws attention away from serious issues, that it is a means of escape and that the film’s creators are well aware of this. The balancing between stylised and authentic settings strengthens the impression that fantasy and reality do not have to be mutually exclusive. They can coexist. ___ It’s up to the characters to decide when they will dance into the realm of dreams. The musical numbers, in which – following the example of early vaudeville musicals – the characters dance on stages intended specifically for that purpose, come across as being the most artificial. Freedom of choice disappears, because there is nothing to do other than to sing and dance in the defined space. ___ Despite the use of alienating effects, which is far less tiresome than in some films by New Wave directors, Les Demoiselles de Rochefort  is primarily a two-hour romantic reverie (cutting its runtime wouldn’t have hurt anything). Demy invites us into a city in which the hyper-realistic colours of the realistic setting adapt to the mood of the characters, in which no one ever has a more dangerous implement at hand than a musical instrument, in which every movement can easily be transformed into a dance, and for whose residents there is no (traumatic) collective memory, but only a (joy-inducing) collective song. A song that bridges the differences between generations, genders and temperaments. It is naïve. But it is also uplifting. 75%