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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.

The perfect kind of musical? Never getting bored, even for a minute! And that's where Rob Marshall comes in. Under his leadership, the heavy story transforms into an elegant and sophisticated spectacle with an excellent leading trio of actors (especially Catherine Zeta-Jones, captivating in her sexy demonic posing and seductive voice), though at certain moments they should cut the singing, since a song revolving around a noose, for example, is clearly unnecessary. To a certain extent, however, I understand the flood of Oscars; even years later, this is an incredible feast for the eyes.

A modest, sensitive, and respectful tribute to an icon, who for inexplicable reasons appears in a movie that lasts three hours. Sometimes less is truly more, and I could have done without several of the action scenes. Whether it was due to budget constraints or the difficulty of filming, the first half of the film practically takes place in darkness, shadow, or underwater every time there's a fight or something particularly dramatic happening. I can't explain how a last farewell to Chadwick Boseman, a therapeutic guide to coping with the loss of a loved one, a political thriller, a battle of empires, and an effort to overcome one's own shadow can all work together, but somehow it does. Maybe thanks to the phenomenal Angela Bassett, maybe thanks to the long-awaited, but inevitable, appearance of the titular suit. 70%

The last farewell to a man for whom no desert was too hot, no jungle too deep, and no tomb impenetrable. A critical and financial failure means that the memories of old times are now carried in a completely different form than before, and endless nostalgia cannot work. But on me, it does, because every reference to previous installments resonated in the right place within me, and the truly serious moments that allow Harrison Ford to give performances minimalist yet almost burdensome in their perfection, encapsulated story arcs and audience arcs that have lasted for decades. I'm not saying it's a flawless installment given that after the brilliant introduction the story drags and doesn't let up on the brakes until the final act. However, there we are given so many surprises combined with classic Hollywood spectacle that I don't even want to look back on any complaints I had with the minutes that came before. The feeling of saying goodbye to the most primal form of Indiana Jones is so bitter because suddenly I feel that five adventures are not enough, and the knowledge that it is an intentional ending doesn't help me much. The gates remain closed, and there are not many high-quality adventure films left in such an honest form.

A colorful romp that never bores you for a moment, yet that starts to fade from the mind faster than you can say "mushroom" as soon as the end credits roll. The main duo surprisingly loses out to the emotionally unstable giant Bowser and the unexpected draw of Princess Peach, whose arrival onscreen finally propels the film to suitable heights. At least this world of peculiar realms, creatures, characters, and immortal melodies has finally been adapted with dignity by a group of people who feel at home in it and just want to share their love for it.

An express train you have to run towards. It's easy for me because I enjoy getting past Ezra Miller's personal life and I can just enjoy how authentic and at the same time neurotic it seems again. He saved Justice League from being unwatchable and he also succeeded here easily. However, since it didn't catch on with the viewers, this is not only the end of him as a hero with a lightning bolt on his chest, but probably also as an actor in major roles and films, and I find that really hard to reconcile myself to. Flash's cursed solo movie is problematic even without a controversial opinion about the main protagonist. It combines witty humor, pathos-filled family drama, and multiverse. A film that wanted to introduce parallel worlds a few years ago now comes as a miss; considering the repeatedly postponed production and changes in the creative chairs, it didn't manage to pave the way to playing with them. I am all the more pleased that even the little that they did manage to accomplish actually works. Looking back into the past rarely fails and the nostalgic sighs for those who are no longer with us fit incredibly well in relation to the main story arc. However, you have to admit that it's not worth pondering too much about the major guest appearances (unfortunately revealed long in advance), namely the participation of the old Batman and the new addition from Krypton. The presence of the grey-haired protector of Gotham will undoubtedly bring tears to somebody's eyes, but as soon as I try to connect the meaningfulness of the aforementioned duo's participation and its (non)impact on the final outcome of the story and the time paradox, I feel perplexed because their participation as a whole seems rushed. Similarly, the possibilities of expanding, rebuilding, or simply throwing the DC publisher's universe adaptations back to the beginning were unprecedented – and nothing happened at all. This temptation, therefore, falls on barren ground and turns Flash into an adventure, fun, enjoyment, and an emotional ending, but never into the giant event that it promised to be for all these years. 70%

It makes me proud that the pumped-up and visually irresistible action scene from the prison was filmed right here in the Czech Republic. The stunts, camera, and other related work are top-notch, making Extraction 2 one of the biggest events outside of traditional cinema distribution. How much more shocking it is, then, that the plot, which only serves as a necessary complement to the first installment, stretches clichés that I thought had been abandoned in the 1990s, and the events on the Georgian side of the barricade suddenly become an unwanted parody.

An unexpected blow that takes the form of all manner of reflections on melancholy. A grain field paused on a videotape, where everything is fine forever. This is a place to return to when things aren't going well, even though it means it will be even worse for a while, and the answer, whether it comes as realization or in a spark of hope or just in an important memory, will have to wait. I was expecting a sunny coming-of-age film, so it's difficult to explain the silence that fell over me when Charlotte Wells gave me exactly that, yet approached me from the other side at the same time.

The most dated classical comedy ever. Compared to Vlasta Burian escapades that are nearly a decade older, it appears very tired in terms of its formal elements, the genre is hardly utilized, it reduces the main character to a mere display rack for the usual clichés, and several times it merely corners him or sits him at a table and lets him tell old-fashioned stories.

Anyone who hangs on the English Premier League day and night and wants a peek behind the veil will never cease to be amazed. The story of how a silly bumpkin came to Richmond and started working the bench in the most watched football league in the world is truly a fairy tale in terms of sports, and it includes situations that we don't see on the field: clubs make hasty decisions, players dare to do impossible tricks. But I soon left behind this critical view and began to get to know the individual characters, along with the main protagonist. Some I only got into after a long while (Rebecca, Jamie Tartt), some immediately (Keeley, Beard), and some straight away joined my favorite TV characters of all time (Roy Kent and, of course, Ted himself). There is so much joy in this club, so many surprises, and so many unexpected moments when a perfect joke or a strong emotion emerges from a completely banal situation, reliably making me bust out laughing. Throughout the three seasons, I (almost) rooted for everyone and gained a reliable source of inspiration from that club with the dog in its logo, which definitely departed from our screens too soon. It does so in a closed and pointed finale, which subtly recalls almost every repeated joke or fan favorite moments. And the little things are the ones I like to take home the most.