novoten

1st season – 70% – Vikings: Valhalla secured its first victory with me right off the bat in the first episode. It's completely different, both in terms of character composition and, above all, in approach. There's not a lot of waiting around, small skirmishes and big battles happen surprisingly soon, and most importantly, there's someone to cheer for. In the original series there was no one to root for in the end, but here I really enjoy the entire main trio, not to mention historically important supporting players like King Canute. In the end, what comes out of the first season of this new chapter is clearly the best to emerge from the historic universe of Kattegat since approximately the third season of the original Vikings. With a bit better connection between the "domestic" and English storylines, it easily keeps pace with the most legendary raids of Ragnar, Rollo, and friends.

Unexpectedly thoughtful and playful in terms of finding the pop culture references or the gags in the background. And yet for this very reason it is also spread out over too many genres, too its own detriment. Indeed, when the plot development started becoming beleaguered by screaming and tossing together ever more absurd scenarios, I again had to remind myself that I was watching a Czech comedy, where sometimes they just have to push the envelope. However, it is still an unexpected discovery with an admirable cadence of natural lines and an incredible situation where Jiří Havelka uses a fresh and unexplored cast to set a high standard for comedy, satire, and an escalating mosaic of supporting events.

A satire that refuses to be simple or one-sided. Thanks to that, it is surprisingly accommodating of the audience and anyone with even a minimally open mind can pick up on the winks, nudges, and jabs. And yet it could really have been just a bit more balanced. While for many the captain's dinner was the highlight, I far more greatly enjoyed exploring the individual vanities and snobs, as well as the unpredictable, slow, but daring final act. After all, the dinner is the scene everyone remembers because of its accessibility, but it's that very overcooked quality that harms it. It does show how difficult moments are inevitable for everyone in the world, but there are too many of these instances. I picked up on the metaphor of wallowing in one's own bodily fluids the first time around; I didn't need it repeated so many times. Triangle of Sadness is not easy to recommend because its unnecessary length can be a turnoff for a lot of people, but the question "How would I behave in such a situation?" keeps popping up and every time it sets off a whirlwind of questions, which are not easy to answer even for yourself.

It was agony to spend nine years waiting for Baz Luhrmann's next feature film, but at least in terms of the visuals, the editing, and the overall use of the author's characteristic mannerisms, Elvis didn't disappoint, quite the contrary. Everything shines, pulsates, and moves from side to side, from window to window, or over the rooftops exactly as the fans would have hoped. The problematic yet daring creative twist is the narrator. To distance oneself from the idolized icon and let someone speak who, even with the greatest objectivity, is the antagonist, could have resulted in an absolute screenwriting disaster. Instead, Elvis is more alive than other biopics, but also not always comfortable for the audience and sometimes even venomous. In short, it's as if Fletcher were telling us about Australia, or even if the Duke himself was guiding us with his voice after Moulin Rouge! – a completely different kind of emotional experience. I understand everyone for whom this change didn't land right, but I also understand everyone who felt that the creators were forcing them to start hating Tom Hanks. I stayed close to the enthusiastic fever of all the camera and sound tricks, but slightly bitter that all of Baz's films in the last thirty years have resonated with me a bit better.

An uncompromising critique of everything and everyone. Critics, supporters, men, women, straightforward, fake, none are spared from Mike White and his ironic commentary on the current world. At some point, everyone wins or loses to some extent, because in life, you have to lose at least once. I will remember most fondly the tour de force performance from Murray Bartlett, whose chameleonic Armond keeps popping up in my memory even several months after watching. In the end, what holds me back from giving it the highest rating is the amount of space given to Shane. I understand the point of his storyline, but Jake Lacy is once again the king of unappealing characters just like in Girls. And what about you? Can you get the Hawaiian soundtrack full of "peekaboo" out of your head?

1st season – 90% – There are TV series where I hope for quality and there are those where I already pretty much know from the genre that it has to be good. And I have never been so convinced about any teen show as I am about Friday Night Lights. A combination of romance and sports, consistently topping the charts in genre rankings? I was defenseless against it. Especially since my all-time favorite series is One Tree Hill, which is thematically similar though set long after the teenage years. Many themes or characters seem like they could have come straight from it's little basketball brother, but the Friday Night Lights world shines differently. Much more civil and gentle (with storylines that very rarely cross over into soap opera territory), yet still in a slightly more family-oriented spirit. People talking about divorce or infidelity have a tough time in this community, because they pray before the game, during it, and after it, and even occasionally at a party when they're talking about the next game. That doesn't bother me since the story is set in Texas; I can believe that it's giving me an authentic experience. The games are a feast for the eyes, and the omnipresent handheld camera is especially well suited to them. As they decrease in number, even the least important match makes me tremble, even if these tense moments occasionally borrow from highly clichéd sports movie tropes. But with the wind of emotion at my back, I am willing to forgive even that. And because I enjoy the storylines about football, school, and relationships, I quickly settled in this town. I'm not giving it the highest rating just because some specific storylines and characters (Smash) entertain me less than the main ones like Tim or Lyla. But most importantly, I have become attached to the coaching family. Kyle Chandler and Connie Britton stole the series right from the first episode and prove why the phrase "Coach Taylor" is a pop culture term in the U.S. 2nd season – 70% – A bit of the wild, which might have flown in from another channel. I understand why the creators decided to spice up their sleepy town with new themes. After all, second seasons are perfect for that, since we've gotten to know all the characters in the first one, in the second one their personalities are explored and the plotlines move to the far limit of tolerance until sometime in the third or fourth season, when everything starts going back to its roots. Friday Night Lights follows this structure perfectly. Almost every teenager experiences a moment that doesn't quite fit into their character development. Julie is chasing happiness, Tim is balancing on the edge of danger and crime, and Matt becomes a Casanova, and that's just scratching the surface of the most widespread character about-faces. Lyla, Tyra, and Landry simply draw the shortest screenwriting straw, and even though they all handle it with aplomb, it's an unnecessary collection of clichés that becomes even more unnecessary because they get lost due to the writer's strike at the time. But through some incomprehensible mystery, I still want to live and grow up in this town, even though I can't understand the reasoning, either by the main characters or by myself. 3rd season – 80% – A return to the basics, where all the favorite story patterns are confirmed, the familiar schemes are switched out, and some constants leave. These moments are like a total emotional waterfall, no matter what kind of relationship the viewer has with the character. The moments when main characters step down caught me a bit off guard, but thanks to the endless charisma of the most important figure, I will gladly witness everything that awaits Dillon. Despite stretching the themes to the limits of credibility, I still feel at home here. During the bittersweet ending, when every emotion is reflected on the faces of the main characters in the archetypal way, I understood why this sports saga is turned to again and again in the U.S., even though the transparency of the individual motivations can sometimes be a bit too much for me. 4th season – 80% – The riskiest move a high school series can make. Partial restart with new characters, complemented by familiar faces, without a clear creative direction for them. The magical newcomer, Becky, immediately steals all the scenes, while Jess or Luke are surprisingly empty and unnecessary even in the most important moments. However, the whole season is primarily a somber story of three sad men, namely Eric, Tim, and Matt. They all feel that they have passed their prime and they are now just waiting to see what fate brings them and which way it will shake them. The way they rise from the greatest catastrophes or slaps in Texas plains never ceases to fascinate me. 5th season – 80% – It is almost unbelievable that such a popular and objectively excellent series could not avoid the hated creative move in almost every season where an interesting character from the previous season suddenly disappears, in many cases never to be mentioned again. Whether it was Waverly, Noelle, Santiago, or mostly J.D. McCoy, they all had more or less significant impact on the story and then disappeared and never came back. This is to be expected in teen dramas, but to have such a twist in reserve for literally every season is maddening for the viewer. This time, something similar happens even within a single season, when possibly the most important storyline comes to an abrupt end (Epyck) and a heavily promoted new character starts slipping into the background shots a mere few episodes before the final episode (Hastings). And yet the current storylines work perfectly. Michael B. Jordan stands out with his phenomenal performance, although his character Vince sometimes lacks appeal, he overshadows everything with his civility and believability. Luke is the complete opposite. The scripts repeatedly put him in the position of the nice, good guy, but I can't stand any of his decisions, and combined with Matt Lauria's stubborn or expressionless face, he is easily my least favorite main character. Despite that, I will always have a weakness for the Texas swan song. The returns of all the familiar faces, whether they last for a few episodes or just a few minutes, break my heart and prove how well-written the characters were. And with my weakness for bittersweet endings, I can't help but dramatically wave my hand with the winged phrase "Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can't Lose!" on my lips.

Hill's collection Bobby Conroy Comes Back from the Dead is pleasantly old-fashioned, surprisingly often discontented, and chilling in several places. Overall, however, its title promises something different, specifically a compilation of small unpleasant horrors that an uninformed reader would expect from King's son. The Black Telephone, on the other hand, is one of the weaker pieces in the book. It is a short suggestive story full of only partially fulfilled potential, with two successful parts, and what harms it the most is the fact that it takes place in one location. Promising a film adaptation seemed like a very bold idea to me, but Scott Derrickson and C. Robert Cargill surpassed themselves. They dug deep into the story, where in the original only names jumped out, they added significant plot lines, and they turned Gwen, played by the incredible Madeleine McGraw, into an equal main protagonist. And yet I'm not sure about the way they explain key events. In many places, they only mention one sentence (the mother's death, the father's motivation, conditions in Finney's prison, the killer's convenient blindness towards broken or tidy things, the willingness of the police to listen to unorthodox solutions), but they rarely expand on it. Of course, I was able to read between the lines in this case, but it's a solution in the style of "If I see it there, then it's there". But if it was really just viewer theories and lucky writing coincidences, it would be dead ends or even plot holes, and that would be a shame in this case. So I lean towards the version that everything is perfectly thought out and that's exactly how I should feel – torn.

I expected a wild and exhilarating ride, but the result is even more frenetic in the cadence of ideas than my boldest imaginations. Whoever says that there is a lack of action must have confused platforms and boarded a train towards Stará Paka. In this Shinkansen, beloved narrative sources and styles alternate, where Kill Bill shakes hands with the more successful work of Guy Ritchie, while insane twists intertwine with absurd bloody splatters reminiscent of the old undertakings by Joel and Ethan Coen. In the end, at several points, I almost raised my hands to applaud with enthusiasm, as certain moments evoked a great euphoria in me thanks to a perfectly fitting cameo or the perfectly fitting soundtrack. The highest rating didn't come at first simply because it is a mix of genres that relies more on inspirations and quotations than on its own contribution, but it doesn't detract from the entertainment value at all, quite the opposite.

1st season – 85% – A mindless spectacle with no need to educate, explore, or prove anything to anyone. It is exactly as I imagined it when I first saw the poster. Pleasant, sweet, and incredibly accurate in conjuring up memorable butterflies in the stomach. Even in a minimal space with a tiny budget (which probably went towards animated pages and Olivia Colman's fee), everything seems to have succeeded. Justifying (or, on the other hand, erasing) the annoying Ben brings a chance at the highest rating. Ta's humor, Charlie's cuteness, and the irresistible chemistry between any friendly or romantic couple result in an unexpectedly excellent hit, which doesn't want to break hearts because fortunately, it doesn't even know how.

A gallery of life failures and a parade of regular participants in pileups from the unsolvable intersections of adulthood. Although Jan Prušinovský's narrative is once again revealed to be one in which men are more easily forgiven and women occasionally get punished simply for being women, it is difficult to tear your gaze away from what's happening. The slightly wooden but all the more believable cast cannot be underestimated, with Pavla Gajdošíková proudly standing out, delivering one of the most natural and impressive performances in contemporary Czech cinema, without any tricks or mannerisms. Yes, I have quite a few criticisms of the final act, which at times happens just for the sake of happening, so that we can have catharsis along with the main duo. However, as a whole, Mistakes is so unique and sharply drawn that its usual domestic counterparts pale in comparison.