Marigold

Another lockdown that you vainly wish would end as soon as possible. Liman is completely out of his element, spinning a disjointed script, a disjointed style, and completely out of focus. A few hints of humorous observation are subverted by a heist with no build-up and a romance with no spark.

A study of the effects of toxic masculinity cleverly done without the aggressor even being in the picture. Kitty Green works only with the effects of the manipulative structure he has created around himself, focusing attention on the person who is on the sidelines, enough to not be physically affected, but not enough to be able to ignore the consequences. The Assistant cleverly works with perspective and framing, which is sometimes very subjective, sometimes detached. The contrast creates an unsettling effect, which in some ways is actually frustrating, because where the viewer demands detail, he gets none. And when the viewer does get it, it's fragments. There are some subtle flaws in the staging and disturbing literalness in an otherwise enigmatic concept that betray that this is a debut, but a masterful debut nonetheless.

Let them all talk, they'll never tell each other the important stuff anyway. This is a film about silent wrongs, eternal things left unsaid and the fact that the most important and profound things are made of the most trivial things. Written on picometers, shot on picometers, played and timed, brilliant in every line and dot. Like sailing through an ocean of imperfect pauses and interruptions. For me, this probably Soderbergh's finest hour.

Ugh, I almost forgot about this pigeon poop on the windowsill. The worst Italian schlock, extortion, tastelessness, overkill, and an utterly cretinous coffin ride scene that I have privately listed as a 2020 discharge.

Amazing. Farmageddon like the Czech song rutyšuty Arizona Texas – a physically awkward, economical, atmospheric horror lightly working with the motif of evil. In essence, this is a psychological drama about the exhausting closeness of death and that mothers are the instrument of Satan. Neurotic sound design, beautiful pans of Tristan Nyby's camera and uplifting scenes of slicing carrots and making phone calls to the grave. Horror movie of the year. I am adding Bertin to my death list.

I see more relationship dramas in my work than I would like and none of them affected me this year like the Austrian film Was wir wollten (Netflix). Ulrike Kofler's intelligent and elegantly-filmed debut about how difficult it sometimes is to burn bridges and live with the feeling that something essential is missing. It's not depressing - it has the lightness and ironic edge of Maren Ade's films. Even the sentiment works here, because it is not an escape from problems, but rather an essential part of them. This film is a candidate for my top 10 films of this year.

Of course, it's not "quality TV", it's not meta and extra socially conscious, gender subversive, etc., but it is simply brilliantly written, built dramatically and honestly, elegantly shot and excellently cast/ orchestrated. In terms of mainstream ranks, The Crown can currently compete with it, with which it shares a similar lightness and accessibility, but there is nothing trivial about it. It is based on the classic zero to hero scheme, but with such a degree of persuasiveness and thoughtfulness that I completely forgive its predictability. I just went along with Beth like few other heroes lately.

I haven't seen better built and scarier scenes since Hill House. Although it goes off the rails a little in the finale, this original mix of social drama about the adaptation and traumas of two immigrants and classic haunted house horror is a unique example of a film where both genre and art ambitions meet. It works as a metaphor for guilt and alienation, as well as an intense horror, where things are projected from inside the walls of the house. One of the debuts of the year! I see that this is very demanding for the local brownshirt association of film brainwashing – gentlemen, you can still spend your time measuring dog’s bollocks, because you’re better at that.

In some ways, Borat has a much harder time than he did 14 years ago, because what was a marginal excess back then is normcore today. But Sasha can get tough, and even though he recycles essential jokes, they are still great and they still work even in partial improvisation. There are a few instant classics (invasion of the Republican congress, a menstrual dance, a synagogue, a concert and, above all, Rudi's incredible anal sex), and the introduction and conclusion have a wonderful cadence, and Maria Bakalova is a great side-chick, although the finished family storyline is definitely a weakness. For me, Borat remains one of the few completely free forms of satirical commentary on the present, in which the Kazakh redneck, along with a collection of highly misogynistic, anti-Semitic and racist views, acts as a gentle caress of the skin. The world has turned to shit, and people like Cohen protect what is left of common sense.

A history lesson for high school students led by a vain teacher who likes to show how he can popularize an interpretation even at the cost of losing the essentials. It's a courtroom sitcom that still balances on the edge of a caricature. The connection between the court proceedings and the events during the demonstration is laborious in terms of the directing, and the screenplay, despite having a good rhythm, sometimes feels like its showing off. The acting is satisfactory and it's not boring, but for me it doesn't have any deeper impact beyond decent fun, with a somewhat clumsy ambition to become a society-wide event.