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Poster tagline: FROM THE DEPTHS OF HELL IT CAME!!! TO HOLD ALL MEN PRISONER AND EVERY WOMAN A SLAVE!!! The monster-horror films of the 1950s and 60s are overwhelmingly similar in concept: something or someone hideous is awakened by something (more often than not, radioactivity, electricity or natural disaster) and a young, likeable bachelor tries to stop it, together with a professor and his young, charming daughter. Then the young guy and the daughter fall in love with each other, the monster abducts her, etc., etc. This is pretty much what happens here. What works in favour of this quite likeable horror film is the fact that it was shot entirely on location (after all, a nice pine forest creates a better atmosphere than a studio with a rear projection and a couple of artificial trees) and the originality of the central monster, a Spanish conquistador awakened from the grave after five hundred years by lightning. I know, it sounds a bit silly, but apart from the fact that he looks like an unwashed and bearded hobo, he's quite an imposing, six-foot-tall figure, and when he's kidnapping a voluptuous bitch, killing his opponents, and gleefully writhing until his eyes light up, it's a priceless sight. His escapades, especially in the last act, when he runs around the woods and throws rocks at his opponents, have the potential to be quite entertaining, albeit unintentionally. You need to equip yourself with a great detachment (which I don't lack after watching dozens of similar monster-flicks), which is needed especially in the final showdown, when the filmmakers give us one truly awful special effects shot. Turning two blind eyes, and in the context of the time of its creation, I would rate it as "a decent, inoffensive and quite entertaining romp".

Poster tagline: SOMEWHERE IN THIS WORLD STALKS A THING THAT IS... NOT FROM THIS EARTH!!! It's no wonder why this film, considered by many to be Corman's best, has such a massive cult status in America. The film has hardly any special effects, no eye-candy scenes and the production design is nothing remarkable, and yet it’s great fun. The story itself – an alien under the guise of a weird rich guy secretly killing earthlings and collecting blood samples from them to send via beam to his home planet – has this sweetly bleak, horror overlay, and Corman's favorite actor Paul Birch as the alien is fantastic. He has a sinister expression, which does not show even minimal emotion, and machined monotone diction, yet he does not overact, although the role would tempt him to do so, and his minimalist acting is impressive. Corman directs economically, but despite the fact that you may not be a fan of conversational films (which this one partly is), you want to know what's coming next, what kind of poor bastard the alien will lure to his basement, where he burns his victims in a big oven, and the film builds to a show-stopping conclusion. Then, with an indulgent smile, you can safely overlook the unintentionally comical attack of the alien monster (a kind of bat with a jellyfish-like fan), where Corman didn't bother to retouch the ropes the monster was hanging by. The last shot, which hints at an open ending, or a never-ending battle with the alien race, is a delightful humorous wink by the director.

Klaus's invisible hand of the market in its purest form and at the same time a sad example of the (un)effective Czech Trade Inspection and the control mechanisms of this state.

Looking back from the film itself, more of a reflection. The 1960s, in culture, music, art and film, is the most exciting decade this republic has seen (though that goes for all of Europe). It’s the time of the awakening of the “big beat”, the time of countless rock bands, the time of the growing popularity of the Semafor theatre of Suchý, Šlitr and the artists associated with them, the time of the magnificent performances of Werich and Horníček, the time of the cracking ice in the perception of censorship, when many films (The White Lady and many others) openly aimed at the party mores and everything culminated in the official abolition of censorship in 1968, the exciting time of the inventive New Wave of Czechoslovak cinema, when no artistic compromises were made and which lead to the emergence of a new generation of great filmmakers and two Oscars for the Czechoslovakian film industry, the time of the onset of the awakening sexual revolution, the era of The Beatles and the light reverberations of the hippie movement that resonated gently in our country from as far away as San Francisco, etc, etc. In short, it was an exciting decade that I regret I didn't experience closely...... and then in '68 came Brezhnev's minions and everything went to shit....

Maximum rating for the whole remarkable trilogy; for the uncompromising brutality and unprecedented artwork, even for the manga genre. The main trio – Griffith, Guts and Casca – have a charisma that beats any real acting star, and their complex psychological development across the three episodes is a joy to watch. The dynamic fights do not spare blood, and the intimate scenes overflow with seductive atmosphere. But we would still be in the vein of a classic adventure story with historical realities, if it weren't for the second half of the third part. Those infernal scenes will bite into you in such a way that you won't forget it. I've always admired the Japanese for the low threshold of self-censorship they possess, and simply put: they don't give a shit, but the brutality and certain perversity of the grim visions in that memorable half hour is breathtaking. The last time I had a similar psychedelic experience with Japanese anime was ten years ago with the legendary Akira.

If you’re not seeing and hearing it with your own eyes and ears, your mind would be reluctant to absorb something like this, as from the pen of a poor screenwriter. An almost unbelievable story about how talent and luck don't always go hand in hand. Rodriguez had the former, but he didn’t get the latter. Although that's relative… and I can't even write more than that, not even the slightest hint, lest it weaken the emotional impact for people who haven't seen this film yet. Myself, I had a chill run up my spine.

The first girl, the first kiss, a murderer on the run, an ageing retired sniper – in short, all the usual things in a teenage boy's life. After the brilliant Take Shelter and this enjoyable piece now, we should keep an eye on the talented Jeff Nichols. Mud isn't nearly as great as Nichols's previous film, but it's pleasantly sober, the narrative flows as slowly as the river by which the story takes place, it doesn't rely on shocking twists and eye-popping moments, though perhaps I could have done without the final gunfight. Plus my favorite occasional (non)actor and playwright Sam Shepard, a great kid lead in Tye Sharidan (if he sticks with it, he's got a big future ahead of him), a believable McConaughey (who's already buried his surfboard ten fathoms under the sand for good), and Nichols's court actor Michael Shannon in what's probably his first normal role :o) A likeable indie effort, keep it up, Jeff.

The more original the premise, the more stupid is the film's execution thereof. The whole second half is one big mess, with clichés piled on top of clichés. If you still enjoy watching the classic, old situation we’ve seen a thousand times – the final villain's final blow is about to come, and lo and behold, the last-minute rescue is here – help yourself here, you'll see it in about five cases, with slight variations depending on what weapon they happen to be holding. Not to mention that the main characters act like blithering idiots. And if you think about it a bit and take it to its conclusion, the premise is actually nonsense. I’m surprised someone as smart as Ethan Hawke went for it.

A similarly absurd spectacle to the Coen brothers' legendary Fargo. It's so bizarre, cynical and aptly ironic, so politically incorrect, so dehumanisingly testoste-packed, that in a perverse sort of way it's impossible not to like it. Moreover, it brutally kicks the ass of the notorious idea of the American dream of a land of unlimited possibilities, where everything can be achieved with diligence and ambition. The tragicomic figures with a dumbbell and a dollar sign for a brain, accurately portrayed by Mark Wahlberg and Dwayne Johnson, were a delight to watch. I’ve never been and I am not a fan of Michael Bay, he’s never known, and still doesn't know, moderation in his films, but here he actually turned this unfortunate trait into something unexpected: his best film.

I was not a very big fan of the action genre in my youth, so I didn’t fully appreciate this piece, even though I enjoyed it in the cinema. Now, after a 20-year hiatus, finally with adequate picture quality (Blu-ray), I can safely say, yes, this is one of the best, if not the best action film of all time, quoted and ripped off to this day. Everything came together here under the most auspicious stars. Most of all, an absolutely top-notch script that imaginatively works on several levels, rich with great twists and turns, at times with pleasantly self-deprecating humour (Willis's and Rickman's wisecracks), apt critical observations (the tabloid media's pursuit of sensationalist reporting) and even emotions. Willis's McClane is not the prototype of a true action hero, he's more of a guy next door in appearance and sense of humour and irony, the kind you could easily go for a beer with, and that makes him believable. Rickman's villain, Hans Gruber, is in turn a brilliant figure to watch with his stoic calmness and elegant casualness that hides relentlessness and coldness underneath. The technical aspects, including the few special effects, haven't aged much (legitimate Oscar nominations) and so the only really small complaint I would have is the fact that, especially on the sharp Blu-ray image, you can clearly see when Willis is Willis and when he's being replaced by a stunt double (and there are quite a few of those scenes). But that's really just a minor quibble that doesn't diminish the quality and importance of this immortal gem.