novoten

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.

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.

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.

Season 1 – 90% – Geographically expansive, thematically rich, visually stunning – and breathtaking in every way. Whether you're exploring relationships, leaning into action, or simply watching Pedro Pascal dramatically gaze into the distance, everything fits together, finally proving what has been known for some time: that a good video game adaptation requires enough space, preferably in the form of a high-budget series. Moving away from the in-game shooting to "cutscenes" feels like a gift from heaven, because I am much more interested in exploring the world of infection and the treachery of human nature than in ways to deal with screaming enemies, whose various methods of eradication have already been thoroughly explored by genre-related predecessors like The Walking Dead. This grim world, even despite a hundred and one obstacles, conceals an inexplicably strong life wake-up call, and we can never have too many of those.

Erich Maria Remarque is one of my most beloved authors, one I come back to repeatedly throughout my life, and I have long postponed reading the first German adaptation of his most famous novel and the one most required in school curricula. There were many rumors about an inaccurate or even arrogant revision, so I am now shocked by how good the adaptation is. Not necessarily as the adaptation of a work, but rather as the comprehensive work of the filmmaker. It is precisely in the much criticized storyline of the negotiations over the end of the war that a few words or sentences are used to express the eternal pain that also appeared in books taking place long after the conflict or between the world wars. The minds and thoughts of the heroes mostly only harbor complaints about the unnecessary prolongation of the armistice, which results in the deaths of many innocents. For greater effect, such subjectivity is replaced with infuriating images and feelings of injustice. In the front lines, it is not about which scenes from the book were successfully transferred to the film (although the famous unbearable waiting in the trench with the enemy does not go lacking), but about the atmosphere of damnation, despair, and eternal damage that permeates every minute. I'm ultimately giving this the highest rating despite the omission of the storyline that troubled me the most in the book. In it, the main character returns home for a few days while on leave and realizes that the kind of return he imagined will probably never be possible. That people who have not experienced the battles will never understand the trauma and horror that a veteran carries. Within the condensation of the plot and the insistence on the destructive environment of contact with the enemy, I understand such a change and am happy to look past it. Because the literary work was created almost a hundred years before this film, and the warnings are no less relevant.

The Hangover meets The Great Gatsby. A trampled reel with La La Land inserted into the projector upside down. Above all, a pure ode to the joy of cinema and at the same time the shine and misery of great actors. Every time it seemed that Babylon was taking a breath for the final act, another twist came. And another one. From stabbing joy to sadness on demand, the most positive emotions hand in hand with pain. Damien Chazelle probably got an excessive budget for the last time and used it to the last cent for a film that too few viewers saw. But in creating this, he climbed so high that it takes courage to even follow him.

An even bigger Thor: Ragnarok than Ragnarok itself. Overloaded action, 80s explosions, workable pathos, and a standard of taste trampled somewhere in the dirt. Thor has found the utmost limits of self-parody in his quest, and even though the public doesn't need to know him like this anymore, I couldn't be happier. It was a bold choice to alternate between the most infantile lines, the almost melancholic mood, and a theatrically demonic enemy, one that's not worth trying to overcome because it might not even be possible without disrupting the entire concept.

The essence of the nineties, which was most authentic at the times when she was the most insane and her smile the most frozen. Against the backdrop of a sticky scandal, a few unlucky individuals suffer the loss of their ideals and mild mental decay, a fascinating journey via the internet, and all the evils that entails – and above all, a sad story about how one girl had to grow up simply because you can't be a sex symbol and a character actress at the same time. I didn't care much for Pamela in elementary school and saw Tommy as nothing more than a hollow stump, yet I almost cried at every bump or barrier in their later lives. Lily James and Sebastian Stan were bold casting decisions, but ones that paid off a hundredfold. Their look, their expressions, words, smiles, and mutual chemistry. I would gladly go for a second season with all the good and even the rather bad (the latter of which is usually unavoidable with stuff that's been thrown together), just so I could watch them interact a little while longer.

I don't understand how such a gem could fly completely under the radar of attention or critical acclaim. I especially don't understand that they never made a second season was never made, but at least Phoebe Waller-Bridge was then able shift her attention elsewhere, making it possible for a second season of Fleabag to come about. Crashing is much wilder, more vulgar, and more straightforward compared to its more famous counterpart, so it would lose out in a direct comparison. However, thanks to Jonathan Bailey's explosive performance and the touching anti-love story of Melody and Colin, it's perfectly unpredictable and hilariously sharp, so I will gladly recommend it to anyone who doesn't entirely understand what I'm talking about.

I can only regret that for so long Satoshi Kon was nothing more to me than just the creator of the now legendary Paprika. His earlier films struck me as small artistic experiments worth getting to only in a moment of leisure. But as I made my way through time to Chiyoko, it finally occurred to me what a great genius her creator was and what a huge loss it is that only four feature films came after it. He was unique in that his signature is not as immediately recognizable as those of his other famous peers. Perhaps only by having a beautiful, shy-looking girl in the lead role and by the musical aspect of Susumu Hirasawa's yodeling choruses. So why did I find Millennium Actress so enchanting? It is from its affection both for the audience and equally for the medium of film. There have been enough love letters dedicated to cinematography, but this one understands its audience. When a documentary filmmaker tearfully and passionately recites his idol's most famous lines, he speaks from the soul to all those who have ever looked at a movie poster with emotion. When combined with the universal and heavily used inspiring message that it's not the destination, it's the journey, you simply have no emotional defense.