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At first glance this draws on the slightly worn-out theme of an alternative version of modern Japan where not everything is as it should be. But on the second viewing, I was captivated by the amazing characters who took hold of me and wouldn't let me go. The charismatic Hei/Li, the ethereal Yin, and the determined Kirihara drew me into this world of contractors, puppets, and the Syndicate, and Darker Than Black turned out to be very pleasant and surprisingly intimate sci-fi. It works both in terms of the long-term development of characters and in the side storylines of the individual enemies, and even though the finale satisfied me more than enough, my excitement for the next series is in full swing.

Victorian England spreads its angelic wings, there is a mysterious atmosphere in the Phantomhive household, and Ciel, along with his faithful Sebastian, sets out to investigate some vile wrongdoing in a Sherlockian manner. I was hooked after a few minutes, and excited after the first episode. Black Butler combines subtle mystique with mythological characters of diverse origins, and the atmosphere of constrained yet corrupted Britain is a perfectly fitting setting. When various styles of humor are added by the supporting characters (Tanaka is clearly the standout for me), the series becomes an inconspicuous gem of anime.

Insulting everyone and everything. This isn't a lack of taste, it's a lack of brains.

The attempt to repeat the same procedure in a different retro era didn't turn out well. Whether the main scriptwriter of the first installment, Allan Heinberg, voluntarily left to make TV series or had a falling out with the other creators, his name is no longer involved in the sequel, and it shows. The ingredients are the same, but this time that central thread that turned an adventure fairy tale into a legendary spectacle has gone missing – or at least it's been tampered with. I won't lie, I appreciated the old-fashioned first half, which behaves at times like Richard Donner's Superman, and at times like B movies from the same era (which I mean in a good way). This time as well there are no unnecessary interconnected universes established; instead, they follow the path of the comics in a direction that was aimed at decades ago, both in print and on celluloid. And most of the time, it even works in terms of building upon the wartime antics, because if anyone has almost atomic chemistry, it's Gal Gadot and Chris Pine. How you get past the fact that someone is appearing in a foreign body and how that body is then treated remains bittersweet, awkward, but still genuine and believable in terms of romance, where I believed every word and shed more than a tear during any tearful statements like "I will never love again." But that's where the biggest positives end, and I'm not sure about the rest. I have no problem with the nature and direction of the other characters, since it falls within the visual tradition, but I don't know why Pedro Pascal is being forced into Rock Me Amadeus mode, and why there seems to be about thirty minutes too much of him in the plot, more than would have been necessary for a rich portrayal of his motivation. Similarly, the frequent "educating" of the viewer is glaringly obvious, and there could have been fewer moral lessons on gender or consent, not just because they don't fit the genre but also because they are almost clumsily served directly to the camera. And finally, the most unforgivable aspect: the final showdown and its outcome is the weakest part of the film, as if it were present only to bid farewell to the plot in any way necessary. The action is banal and almost invisible due to darkness, the final moral lesson is illogical, the costumes and masks don't work at all, and most importantly, by that point, it has already extended past three hours in duration; as much as I enjoyed the film, I can't understand this decision to leave everything uncut. Patty Jenkins has fallen victim to megalomania syndrome, and it cost Wonder Woman a satisfying conclusion to the trilogy.

A reliable dose of the same old same old, occasionally lacking in any exceptional originality. Even though everyone in front of and behind the camera can bend over backwards to surprise, provoke, or turn the laws of physics upside down for the viewers over and over again, I can't help but sometimes sit with the feeling that it's not a complete Yes. I welcome Brie Larson and the wild Jason Momoa in the role of the Brazilian clown Pennywise, I can also accept any "fun for the whole family". After all the leaping over skyscrapers, endless highways, or torpedos getting hurled away, I was just expecting something more specific than complicated chases through metropoles and more escalating triumphs pulled out of agency sleeves.

The first huge disappointment, one I struggled with for a long time. The broken continuity, which the universe of the white lettering on a red background has always guarded to the maximum, surprised me the most. Janet, who cheerfully supported experiments towards the Quantum Realm in the previous ant-themed installment, suddenly panics and acts mysteriously, revealing connections to ancient history. The Wasp is on the sidelines, the bet on absolute dominance of special effects pays off in only half of the cases, and the humor ranges from the simplest visual gags to strangely outdated jokes. I couldn't resist, I watched it again and reconcilingly acknowledge that with adjusted expectations, the experience is much better and somehow easier. Ant Man and the Wasp: Quantumania doesn't work as the pinnacle of the trilogy, but rather as a piece of the puzzle. I understand the introduction of a new threat, but several times I thought that if Thor, Doctor Strange, or the Guardians of the Galaxy were to have confronted the Conqueror, it would have only the smallest impact on his development for the future finale. That's why I am disappointed that Ant-Man's likely final solo adventure ends awkwardly, with too little connection to the first two installments; for me, it carries the sad stamp of the weakest film in the MCU.

Upon the second viewing, I couldn't help but wonder if the director didn't just make up the shocking twist ending to add a more emotional and fateful touch to her otherwise serious romantic story. However, since I really enjoy Kevin Spacey in this civil role and I enjoy being emotionally squeezed, I have no complaints and fondly remember this aspect. This is greatly aided by the excellent music by Thomas Newman, which adds a beautifully nostalgic touch of lost memories to the film.

I've always adored Valmont and scornfully laughed at the very dangerous acquaintances who tried to step on this classic. I still like Forman's work, but by a strange coincidence, I managed to fall in love with the rejuvenated version of the story so much that even Colin Firth's memorable portrayal begins to pale in comparison. Currently, let's say it's a tie.

The acting is handled brilliantly (Clooney's captain in particular is more than believable), there's nothing to criticize about the directing (the final sound flashback leaves a significantly more positive impression than I originally thought), but because of the screenplay, it is unable to get past the routine, familiar patterns of the genre.

Stupidity to the nth degree, where the only likeable character starts gradually turning to the dark side, at which point all empathy for the family comes to an end. Fortunately, with The Amityville Horror the viewer doesn't even really have a chance to get properly warmed up before the finale comes, which also brings liberation. The result is worse than the poor Texas Chainsaw Massacre. The horror roots occasionally shine through even despite the B-movie production.