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The Pacific: Melbourne (2010)
Kind of useless and depressing
You think you'd need an episode where the soldiers can take a break from the relentless horror of war, but in this one they can just enjoy the relentless horror of their own personal lives. After all, nothing says "rest and recuperation" like watching Leckie fumble through an ill-fated romance like a lost tourist with no map and even less charm.
You'd think an episode set in a city would provide some sense of relief, but no - Melbourne serves only to remind us that, even off the battlefield, these characters are incapable of finding peace. The episode drifts between awkward social interactions, strained relationships, and the general malaise that defines the entire series. Leckie, our ever-present guide, stumbles through it all with his signature mix of detachment and complete lack of charisma, managing to make falling in love look as exciting as filling out a tax form.
Meanwhile, the rest of the characters wander aimlessly, struggling with the concept of downtime, as if the writers themselves weren't quite sure what to do with them. But who needs meaningful character development or emotional depth when you can just have Leckie sulk in the background and call it a day?
In the end, Melbourne feels like a vacation no one asked for, providing an uneasy and depressing breather between bouts of violence.
The Pacific: Gloucester/Pavuvu/Banika (2010)
Not liking it much
This is my second viewing of The Pacific, and just like the first time, Leckie grates on my nerves with the same intensity as a bad sunburn. Yet, here we are again, seemingly glued to his side as he stumbles through the war with the charm of a wet sock.
The Pacific theatre itself is reduced to a grotesque game of "island-hopping", which sounds thrilling until you realize it's just one gruesome battle after another, with no clear sense of progress. It's as if the war has been reduced to a tropical holiday from hell, where each episode promises more senseless carnage with zero payoffs. We get it: a night attack by the Japanese, bodies everywhere, rinse, repeat - like a particularly grim Groundhog Day, but with fewer jokes and more decapitations.
And who better to guide us through this repetitive nightmare than the ever-detached and endlessly unpleasant Leckie? His apathy is contagious, dragging the rest of the narrative down with him, while the Basilone storyline simmers faintly in the background, even if Basilone is a much nicer character, and poor Eugene is still stuck in training. Lucky him - at least for the moment he's missing out on this cyclical island-hopping purgatory.
The Borgias (2011)
Beautiful, only slightly faulty
What a gorgeous production! For visual flair alone, The Borgias deserves a perfect 10. The costumes are nothing short of magnificent, the sets opulent, and the atmosphere convincingly steeped in the Renaissance. It's all elevated by a score that feels appropriately grand - no jarring attempts to "modernize" the story with ill-fitting contemporary elements. Thankfully, the ruthless power struggles, sexual escapades, and insatiable thirst for wealth are more than enough to resonate with a modern audience - no need to sneak in a rap track.
The cast is, for the most part, outstanding. François Arnaud leads the pack with a nuanced, often tormented portrayal of Cesare Borgia. Holliday Grainger, almost distractingly radiant, plays Lucrezia with a quiet grace that belies her tragic fate - an unfairly maligned woman who never poisoned a soul and was mostly a pawn in her father's political chessboard. Her marriages? First a disaster to a Sforza, then a slight improvement (albeit tragic) to Alfonso d'Aragona. Only in Ferrara, during her third marriage, did Lucrezia find any semblance of peace, but even that was cruelly cut short by her death in childbirth at just 39.
Sean Harris is deliciously menacing as Micheletto, and David Oakes' Juan is so vile you almost want to reach through the screen and strangle him yourself. As for Lotte Verbeek as Giulia Farnese - we don't know what the real Giulia looked like, but Verbeek, though lovely, doesn't quite fit the bill in my imagination.
And then there's the elephant in the room: Jeremy Irons as Pope Rodrigo Borgia. While undeniably charismatic, Irons occasionally veers into melodrama, and physically, he's not exactly a dead ringer for the real Rodrigo, of whom we have several portraits. Alfred Molina would've been a more fitting choice in my opinion. Still, Irons shines in certain moments - his grief over Juan's death and his caustic banter with the Cardinals are particular highlights.
Now, onto the gripes. The plot is a bit too fanciful, veering far from historical accuracy in several instances, clearly catering more to drama than facts. For history buffs like myself, this is mildly infuriating. Just a few of the many liberties taken: Vannozza, Rodrigo's mistress, was Italian, not Spanish; Lucrezia's rumored lover was named Pedro Calderón, not Paolo; Benito Sforza wasn't a real person; Savonarola was burnt at the stake in Florence and not in Rome; and Juan's murderer? Still a mystery in real life - it's never been definitively proven to be Cesare. These deviations might be forgivable for casual viewers, but for anyone who knows their Renaissance history, they're glaring missteps.
That said, the series is undeniably captivating. The sheer beauty of the production and its entertainment value outweigh the historical inaccuracies - though a few brutal scenes of torture and a bit too much sex might make some squirm. Then again, this is the Borgias we're talking about - excess comes with the territory.
The Borgias: Truth and Lies (2012)
Visually stunning and highly entertaining
As I catch up on The Borgias, I find myself continually impressed by the stunning costumes, makeup, and excellent casting choices. Most of the actors feel perfectly suited to their roles, and the show is undeniably entertaining - so long as you can accept that it's more fiction than fact.
As an Italian with a solid grasp of Renaissance history, I can't help but roll my eyes at some of the more glaring historical liberties. For example, "Benito Sforza" never existed. Benito is a name of Spanish origin, and the Italian equivalent would be Benedetto. The Sforza family, with their distinctly Italian heritage, would never have used a Spanish name, especially because "Benito" only came into popular use from the 18th century onward.
Then there are Lucrezia's Genoese suitors, two handsome brothers - who, unfortunately, are pure fiction. They may be entertaining additions to the plot, but historically speaking, they didn't exist.
Despite these historical inaccuracies, the show is still a highly enjoyable visual feast. The balance between entertainment and historical context may tip heavily toward the former, but if you can set aside the factual errors, it's a fantastic watch. 👍🏻
Le rouge et le noir (1954)
The red, the black and Julien Sorel
Anyone familiar with Stendhal's "The Red and the Black" knows the tragic tale of Julien Sorel, a carpenter's son born too late to rise in Napoleon's army and escape his lowly station. In this 1954 adaptation, Gérard Philipe takes on the role of Julien, though at 32, he's too old to convincingly play the brooding, impetuous youth. Philipe's natural charm doesn't quite fit Julien's darker, more unpleasant nature.
Julien becomes a tutor for the sons of Mme de Rênal (Darrieux), a pious, repressed woman who inevitably falls for him. Their passionate affair is soon cut short by the looming threat of scandal. After a stint at a seminary, Julien finds himself working for the haughty Marquis de la Mole and tangling with his snobbish daughter, Mathilde (Lualdi), in a love-hate dynamic. Julien aims to seduce her out of pride, while Mathilde battles her attraction to someone beneath her station. Just as they become engaged, tragedy strikes with the vengeful return of Mme de Rênal.
Modern viewers might find Julien's constant self-pity and manipulative seductions tiresome. His endless monologues and twisted feelings about love don't do much to endear him, despite Philipe's solid performance. Darrieux's Mme de Rênal is hardly better - her tormented guilt feels more like a way to make adultery spicier. Thankfully, Lualdi as Mathilde injects some much-needed life into this otherwise gloomy affair.
The version I watched suffered from faded, drab colors, making it hard to appreciate the settings. Many scenes looked painfully staged, with windows opening onto what seemed like white backdrops. Not exactly visually stunning.
La prima notte di quiete (1972)
Melancholy, cashmere coats and a bit of obsession
Daniele Dominici (Alain Delon), a kind, melancholic and probably depressed teacher in his late forties, becomes the new substitute teacher at a high school in Rimini. He shares his life with Monica (Lea Massari), another depressed person, but he seems more interested in escaping from his relationship than cultivating it, finding refuge in a group of local layabouts between cards, discos and parties.
At school, Daniele develops an almost instantaneous interest in Vanina (Sonia Petrova), the most melancholic student - and, coincidentally, also the prettiest. One might wonder if that "melancholy" would have affected him as much if Vanina had not been so attractive. The girl, despite her young age, seems to have a dark past, including an ambiguous boyfriend Gerardo (Adalberto Merli), a shady guy who drives her around in a Ferrari.
Between a cultural exchange in Monterchi and a depressing party at the disco, the passion between Daniele and Vanina grows, even if their relationship seems accelerated by an editing that seems to narrow the story into the space of a week or so. When Vanina is sent away from Rimini by her mother, a convincing Alida Valli in a shrew version, Daniele decides to follow her, after a turbulent love interlude in a melancholic shack on the beach. But life, always ready to put everyone back in their place, does not offer a happy ending.
The plot does not shine for originality, given that literature, cinema and even rock music are full of stories of sex (or love?) between teachers and students ("Don't stand so close to me", just to name one example), and these stories rarely have a happy ending, but it is partially redeemed by the setting in a wintry, decadent and squalid Rimini. And, of course, by the handsome Delon, whose unrivaled charm is here emphasized by a rumpled look and a soft cashmere coat that adds an irresistible touch.
Cons? The excessively sentimental, morbid and obsessive tone, with cultural pretensions right from the title, and a 70s soundtrack that stands out for its jarring, almost unbearable, notes of trumpet and saxophone.
Not a masterpiece, but if you are curious to find out if Delon was a good actor, this film could be a starting point.
La noia (1963)
The Italian title says it all
"The Empty Canvas" is based on an Italian novel titled "Boredom," which is a stroke of marketing genius - why waste time with false advertising? Our protagonist, Dino (Horst Buchholz), epitomizes first-world problems: a wealthy, healthy young man plagued by existential ennui. Instead of doing something productive, like appreciating life's many gifts, Dino spends his time pretending to paint in a studio generously funded by his ever-indulgent mother. Who wouldn't want to root for a spoiled rich kid with nothing better to do than wallow in self-inflicted misery?
Feeling understandably fed up with his "demanding" life of leisure, Dino ogles a girl visiting his neighbor (because that's what rich existentialists do) and decides it's time to visit his mother, played by Bette Davis in a role that can only be described as "unconvincing." He asks to move back to the family's grand villa, where the saucy chambermaid Rita immediately starts a not-at-all-subtle campaign to seduce him. Because nothing screams high art like a bit of casual groping in front of Mom.
As the film progresses, it becomes clear that we've veered into the cinematic equivalent of a bad joke told in a bordello. Dino learns that his neighbor died while having sex with Cecilia, the girl he had previously ogled - a development that's both tasteless and, unsurprisingly, irresistible to our hero. He promptly tracks down Cecilia, portrayed by Catherine Spaak, who once again graces us with her signature role: the precocious, highly sexualized kitten, an archetype that made her a darling of 1960s Italian cinema.
Naturally, because this story is penned by a man, Dino's mother is the predictable castrating figure, while Cecilia serves as the convenient sex object who can hop from one man to another without so much as a blink. The depth of character development here is truly staggering.
Unfortunately, watching a rich, bored man engage in increasingly tedious bouts of sex while trying to pay off his obsession isn't exactly the thrill ride one might hope for. And the so-called "dramatic" denouement? Let's just say it doesn't make up for the time you'll never get back from watching this cinematic gem.
The Americans: START (2018)
Brilliant wrapping up
In an era where many TV shows overstay their welcome or falter at the finish line, "The Americans" delivers a masterful final episode with "START." Without resorting to violence, gore, or cheap gimmicks, the show concludes in a way that feels both inevitable and deeply satisfying.
With Elizabeth and Philip now on the run, clutching a bag of cash and fake passports but little else, the tension centers on whether Stan will catch up to them. Oleg, imprisoned and uncertain if his vital message to save Gorbachev will reach Moscow, serves as a poignant reminder of the larger stakes at play. Stan's decision to leave a colleague at a stakeout to pursue his lead to Paige's apartment sets the stage for a gripping final confrontation with the Jennings.
The dialogue in this scene is exceptionally believable. You can feel the weight of their shared history, Stan's sense of betrayal, and Philip's desperation as he tries to navigate a way out using both reason and emotion. The atmosphere is thick with tension, even though I never truly believed Stan would pull the trigger on his neighbors. The brilliance of the script shines through in how Oleg's plan becomes a crucial factor in Stan's decision to let the Jennings go. The message to save Russia and protect world peace outweighs the need to capture a pair of spies. And just when you think it's over, Philip drops a final bombshell: Renee "might be" one of them.
The Jennings manage to escape, but it's far from a happy ending. Leaving Henry behind, knowing he'll be alone and heartbroken, is a heavy burden. Their nocturnal journey through the snowy landscape is fittingly somber, underscoring the fact that this is not a triumphant exit. Back at work, Stan receives confirmation from Dennis that the Jennings were indeed spies, just as he suspected. Dennis's apology, oblivious to Stan's inner turmoil, adds a layer of tragic irony to the moment.
At the Canadian border, the Jennings manage to cross undetected, only to be devastated by Paige's decision to leave the train. In that moment, they lose the one thing that mattered most: their family. They've gained their freedom, but at an unbearable cost. While I personally question Paige's ability to manage on her own, it's a minor point in the grand scheme.
The final moments of the show, with Philip and Elizabeth being picked up by Arkady and arriving in Moscow under the cover of night, are haunting. Stan's lingering suspicion of Renee adds a perfect note of unresolved tension. I particularly appreciated that Renee's true status was left ambiguous, maintaining an air of mystery.
In the end, "START" is a stellar conclusion to an extraordinary series. A fitting finale for one of television's finest dramas.
The Americans: Jennings, Elizabeth (2018)
Gloomy but great
The penultimate episode of The Americans, masterfully sets the stage for the series' grand finale, delivering a compelling mix of tension, character development, and narrative resolution. Elizabeth's attempt to protect the unsuspecting Nesterenko is a powerful moment that ties back to the origins of her career in Russia. The flashback to her abandoning a dying man and horse during a mission is haunting, particularly when her supervisor reprimands her for leaving a comrade behind (although I was more upset about the horse).
This scene brilliantly illuminates Elizabeth's current motivations - why she's now risking everything to save Nesterenko. It's a testament to the show's skillful storytelling that we understand Elizabeth's inner conflict, especially when she's forced to take out the blonde-wigged assassin who turns out to be the resentful Tatiana.
Meanwhile, Stan's dogged pursuit of his suspicions bring him to call Pastor Tim in Buenos Aires, adding another layer of intrigue. Though I anticipated a major revelation that would spell the Jennings' immediate downfall, the subtlety with which the plot unfolds is just as satisfying. The FBI's continued interrogation of orthodox priests, inching closer to the truth, keeps the tension high.
Oleg's subplot, which has simmered in the background, is now coming to a gripping resolution. His arrest at the dead drop, with incriminating material in his possession, underscores how intricately the show's writers have woven together the various storylines. What might have seemed like a side plot now reveals itself as crucial to the narrative, demonstrating the brilliance of the show's script.
Claudia, the ever-enigmatic and formidable character, faces a showdown with Elizabeth that's as charged as it is ironic. Elizabeth's indignation at being lied to, despite her own career built on deception, is a powerful moment. Claudia's unwavering composure and ability to have the final word highlight her as one of the series' most memorable characters.
The tension within the Jennings family also reaches new heights. Paige's confrontation with Elizabeth over her relationship with Jackson is a stark reminder of the generational and cultural divides at play. Elizabeth's response, highlighting her different views on sex, is not only authentic but offers a nuanced perspective, particularly for viewers familiar with Russian cultural attitudes.
Capping off this fantastic episode is Philip's suspenseful meeting with Father Andrei. The scene is a masterclass in tension, especially when Philip is forced to make a quick exit after learning the FBI has been interviewing the clergy. The phone call between Philip and Elizabeth that follows is nothing short of heartbreaking, as both realize the imminent end of their American dream.
Phenomenal lead-up to the series finale, balancing suspense, character depth, and the intricate web of the story that has made The Americans such an exceptional show.
The Americans: The Summit (2018)
Too much spread too thick
The Summit, starts with Philip and Elizabeth returning to their favorite pastime: squabbling. Seriously, after twenty-plus years, it's a wonder they haven't driven each other completely mad. This time, Philip drops the bombshell that he's been spying on her - because that's exactly what every marriage needs: a little light espionage. Naturally, Elizabeth is annoyed, but she's got other fish to fry, like the small matter of a high-stakes summit that's supposed to be the culmination of a season's worth of tension. Too bad the actual event turns out to be as underwhelming as a soggy sandwich.
The plot, much like Elizabeth's nerves, is all over the place. First, we have the negotiator tending to Erica, the dying wife, who decides to drop out of the team - because what's a good summit without a little last-minute chaos? Elizabeth, ever the pragmatist, decides to "help" Erica along to the great beyond in a scene that's both weird and thoroughly unpleasant. The payoff? Time to copy some documents while the husband grieves. Talk about multitasking.
Then, Elizabeth throws on her "Wendy" persona to seduce Jackson, the poor intern who's about as sharp as a butter knife, and convinces him to plant a recording device in the room where the Russian negotiator is meeting. But even Jackson - who's been blissfully unaware up to this point - starts to suspect something's fishy. Despite his sudden burst of intuition, he manages to survive the episode, and Elizabeth convinces herself that the Russian team is squeaky clean. Good luck with that.
Meanwhile, Stan continues his dogged investigation, this time showing a photo of Elizabeth to an old acquaintance in the hopes of finally cracking the case. Spoiler alert: he gets nowhere. But it's nice to see him trying, I suppose.
The episode wraps up with Claudia ordering Elizabeth to take out the negotiator, and for once, Elizabeth draws the line. Claudia then lays all her cards on the table, revealing the anti-Gorbachev plot. It's a lot to digest, but somehow, it all feels rather lackluster for an episode that should have been a game-changer.
In the end, The Summit crams a lot of events into a single episode, but most of it fails to deliver the excitement or tension you'd expect at this point in the series. It's like ordering a gourmet meal and getting a microwave dinner instead.
The Americans: Harvest (2018)
Losing your head for the job
Harvest, is the episode that finally decided to spice things up for the last season. Instead of taking the more "realistic" route of showing spies doing their day jobs - think decoding messages or snapping photos of random objects - they opted for some good old-fashioned action. Because, let's be honest, watching people stare at coded messages is about as thrilling as watching paint dry.
Once Philip joins Elizabeth in Chicago, the episode throws us back to the vibes of the first season, when things were violent, exciting, and, did I mention, violent? The titular "Harvest" really lives up to his name, and poor Marilyn - say she gets more than her fair share of brutality. By the time Philip and Elizabeth limp back from the Chicago debacle, decked out in their "old folks" disguises, they actually look as tired and worn out as they must feel. At least the wigs are consistent with their exhaustion.
Meanwhile, over at the FBI, Stan is getting more and more agitated. And why wouldn't he be? Nothing like chauffeuring Henry to school to really get those investigative juices flowing. But let's talk about Stan's sudden, laser-focused obsession with the Jennings. Sure, I get it - they had to wrap this series up somehow. But I never quite bought into the idea that Stan would become fixated on a "couple" just because they were occasionally seen together. I mean, it's not like every man and woman who work together are married? Maybe they're just really dedicated colleagues, or perhaps it's a rotation - one operative dies (like the woman in Chicago), and another steps in. Or maybe, just maybe, there are a billion other possibilities that Stan's FBI instincts conveniently overlook.
And let's not forget the other people these spies were seen with - Gregory and his gang, or the times Liz went solo and practically turned Stan's former boss into a punching bag. But we all know this is the direction the series is heading, so we might as well buckle up and enjoy the ride, even if some of the logic gets a little wobbly on the way.
La race des 'seigneurs' (1974)
You must be crazy to waste time watching this movie
"Creezy" - or should I say, "L'arrivista", "La race des seigneurs", or whatever else they decided to call this marketing disaster has a mess of a plot, where Alain Delon plays Julien Dandieu, a politician so dripping in cynicism that you almost expect him to twirl a mustache while plotting his rise to power. And, of course, what's a powerful man without a predictable dalliance with a model? Enter Creezy, a character whose name alone might make you want to double-check if this is a political drama or a bizarre horror flick.
Sydne Rome gives a performance that can best be described as "barely adequate," which is a bit like calling a house fire "slightly warm." If you're watching the Italian version, you get the added bonus of her being dubbed with a voice so nasal and childlike that you'll be wondering if the casting director lost a bet.
The movie had all the potential to be a saucy, scandalous political drama, but the editors decided to grace us with a choppy mess that's about as thrilling as watching paint dry. The film flits between Julien's "busy" day, where he meets an endless parade of political players and his constant, tedious obsession with the titular Creezy. This obsession is expressed through approximately a billion flashbacks that do nothing to make you care about their lust-driven, originality-free "love" story. By the tenth flashback, you might start rooting for the fast-forward button.
And don't get your hopes up when you see Jeanne Moreau in the credits. Yes, the legendary Jeanne Moreau is in this film, but her role is so secondary and irrelevant that you'll forget she's even there. Remember, even the greatest actors occasionally have bills to pay, which explains her unfortunate presence in this cinematic misfire.
Now, for the pièce de résistance: the flashbacks. If you've ever dreamed of watching Alain Delon and Sydne Rome listen to a tour guide drone on about Roman ruins, or maybe you're dying to hear about wage and pension claims in the middle of your political drama, well, have I got the movie for you!
Finally, a side note: who, in their infinite wisdom, thought naming a character "Creezy" was a stroke of genius? And why were Paris's streets plastered with Creezy posters in varying states of undress? Was every other model in France on holiday?
So, if you're eager to explore Alain Delon's filmography, do yourself a favor - skip this one.
The Americans: Rififi (2018)
Is it going the Rififi way?
Although "Rififi" is a tense episode, I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the sudden stroke of luck the FBI has in Chicago. Out of nowhere, they stumble upon a promising lead and devise a clever plan to investigate the Soviet spies' modus operandi. It's almost like the universe decided to align all the factors at just the right moment. But who needs realism when we're here for the entertainment, right? And in that department, the episode delivers, with Henry coming home for Thanksgiving, only to find his family acting stranger than usual. His parents aren't speaking to each other, which, in this household, is saying something.
Elizabeth, ever the dedicated spy, tries a new angle to gather intel on the summit negotiators by befriending a congressional intern at a cinema. Their film of choice? "Rififi," a classic with a tragic ending. Subtle foreshadowing, anyone?
As Thanksgiving dinner - a time for happy family reunions - approaches, Elizabeth decides to pack her bags and head to Chicago. Her mission? To extricate "Harvest," one of her Chicago counterparts, from FBI surveillance. And because this show loves to hammer things home, we're repeatedly reminded that this mission is incredibly difficult with slim chances of success. Just tell us straight up they're going to fail - it's painfully obvious.
The episode ends on a bizarre note, with Philip calling Elizabeth on a hunch that something's wrong and then deciding to join her in her near-suicide mission. It's a bit hard to swallow that Philip, after all Elizabeth's obnoxious behavior in recent episodes, would cave in and follow her yet again. But I guess when you're married to a spy, old habits die hard.
The Americans: The Great Patriotic War (2018)
Liz goes to work
In the annals of history, "The Great Patriotic War" is how the Russians label their chapter of WWII. It was a grandiose tale spun to mask a chaotic reality: Stalin, in his infinite wisdom, believed that the fiendish Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact would hold, despite the glaringly fact that the Germans were not exactly known for their honesty. When the Germans invaded, Stalin was frozen in disbelief for over ten days, as if waiting for Hitler to send a polite memo. Only when the enemy was well into Russia did Stalin manage to set his people in motion, transforming what should have been a quick and decisive response into a mythical resistance saga. Of course, what he conveniently left out of the story was the fact that soldiers who dared surrender or retreat were often shot on the spot by the ever-dutiful party members attached to the Red Army. A heroic stand, indeed.
Naturally, this isn't the version of events that Paige is fed during her indoctrination. She's too busy wreaking havoc in a bar brawl, attracting attention like a moth to a flame. It's only when Philip gives her a harsh lesson-sans padding-that she finally gets a dose of reality. It was refreshing to see a fight scene where, for once, a petite girl does not magically overpower a much stronger man. Hollywood, take notes.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth has a moment of what seems like tenderness, sleeping with Philip only to drop a bombshell the next morning: she wants him to kidnap Kimmy. Philip, visibly annoyed at being used yet again, reluctantly puts the plan in motion. But the same evening, in a scene that can only be described as darkly comedic, Liz coldly announces she's "going to work" and then proceeds to ruthlessly assassinate Gennadi and Sofia, almost in front of their child. Because nothing says "just another day at the office" like cold-blooded assassination.
However, after learning of Liz's latest "achievements," Philip does something unexpected - he pulls the plug on the whole Kimmy operation, even if he knows there will be hell to pay. At this stage, even the most optimistic among us wouldn't give their marriage a snowball's chance in hell. But then again, marriage counseling is hardly the most pressing issue in a world where espionage and murder are just part of the daily grind.
The Americans: Mr. and Mrs. Teacup (2018)
Tension mounting
Tension is indeed mounting in the Jennings' world - or perhaps it's more of a delightful daily grind of espionage and existential dread. From the strong opening of Episode 1, which had the audacity to "show" instead of spoon-feeding the audience, to this latest instalment, "Mr. And Mrs. Teacup," the tension just keeps bubbling up. The musical score, almost too perfect, plays its part in this ever-spiralling dance of silent stares and the steady unraveling of poor, overworked Elizabeth, who is clearly teetering closer to the edge with every cigarette, while Philip starts to wonder if his true calling might have been in square dancing rather than espionage. The way he's beginning to see the cracks in capitalism -despite his fondness for yuppie fashion - is a joy to watch.
This episode gifts us with Stan, the man who wanted nothing more than a quiet life, now reluctantly dragged back into counterespionage. It's almost touching how his two Russian moles - who are about as effective as a chocolate teapot - insist on treating him like a father figure, even as they bicker, threaten divorce, and demand extraction like children begging for a bedtime story. Stan, of course, is thrilled to be back in the game (read: the exact opposite), especially since the Center decided that Elizabeth must eliminate these "traitors". The stakes are high, what with the added complication of Stan actually knowing Elizabeth and Paige - because tailing someone who might recognize you isn't risky at all. That with the small matter of a secret summit mission on the side? Elizabeth really does know how to multitask.
Speaking of Elizabeth, who is spiraling spectacularly, she still finds time to "mother" Paige - arguably the show's top contender for Most Annoying Character. Paige is now indulging in her spy fantasies, despite her track record: bungling her first mission by handing over IDs to a stranger and almost blowing her mother's cover in a blackmail situation. But why stop there? Now she's got the brilliant idea to seduce a Congressional intern, naturally against Elizabeth's advice. Because if there's one thing Paige excels at, it's stubbornly overestimating herself.
As if the family drama weren't already riveting enough, we get to watch Philip break the news to Henry that tuition won't be covered. It's clear that the family dynamics are crucial to the show, but sometimes you can't help but wish for just a bit less of it. A touch less dysfunction might've bumped the episode's score.
On a more somber note, a word of praise is due to the actress portraying the dying Erica. Her performance is so tragically convincing that it's almost disturbing - yet Elizabeth, who's seen worse, nurses her with the detached efficiency of someone tending to a houseplant. Her scenes add a chilling layer to the plot, reminding us just how deeply entrenched these characters are in their own personal hells.
Krasnye kolokola, film vtoroy - Ya videl rozhdenie novogo mira (1982)
A deluxe propaganda documentary
I stumbled upon "Red Bells Part II: Ten Days That Shook the World" by chance, and to my surprise, found myself entranced by what can only be described as a cinematic relic of a bygone era. Having never heard of it, I expected little more than a dusty history lesson, but what I encountered was a production of unexpectedly high caliber. The cinematography is nothing short of spectacular, with its meticulous street scenes teeming with extras and an ocean of red flags - a visual symphony that breathes life into events we usually associate with grainy black-and-white photos.
My curiosity was piqued primarily because I had read John Reed's account of those fateful days, so I went in bracing myself for a plot that might trudge along like a documentary. Thankfully, the film clings to Reed's chronicle like a lifeline, eschewing melodrama in favor of a more subdued retelling. The actors portraying Louise Bryant and John Reed do so with commendable restraint, even if they are draped in costumes that would make a czar envious. It's worth noting, however, that this film bears little resemblance to the far superior Reds, which managed to marry historical breadth with personal depth - two elements notably absent here.
Of course, no Soviet-backed production would be complete without some carefully curated omissions. While the film does show Reed's inevitable demise, it tiptoes around his growing disillusionment with the Bolshevik regime, a truth too inconvenient for this piece of deluxe propaganda. Yet, despite its shortcomings, I can't help but recommend the film - if only for its outstanding production values and as a visual passport to the ten days that supposedly shook the world. For those interested in Russian history, it offers a vivid, if somewhat sanitized, glimpse of the revolution in all its red-tinted glory.
The Americans: A Roy Rogers in Franconia (2016)
More Paige appeasing
Heartless Soviet sleeper agents Philip and Elizabeth Jennings, masters of manipulation and murder, are reduced to quivering, anxious parents whenever they deal with their ultimate adversary: Princess Paige, the poster child for privileged teenage angst. Watching these hardened spies tiptoe around their daughter's every emotional whim is almost comical - not exactly what the series aims at.
Paige, who hit the existential jackpot by being raised in the land of plenty, suddenly finds herself betrayed by the horrifying revelation that Mom and Dad are, gasp, Soviet spies! The horror! If ever there was a tragedy to rival Hamlet, this is it - being a spoiled American kid and then finding out your parents are from the 'wrong' superpower.
It's almost impressive how far the Jennings go to cater to Her Majesty's moods. Every conversation is a minefield, every bedtime a solemn ritual to ensure Paige is snugly cocooned in the safety of her ignorance. Philip and Elizabeth's lives orbit her like she's the sun itself. You'd think these two were more Western suburbanites than Soviet agents, with their relentless coddling and fear of upsetting the young despot.
Given the iron discipline of their KGB training, you'd expect them to snap and give Paige a good old-fashioned Soviet lesson in compliance. Elizabeth made a feeble attempt at this when she dragged Paige out of bed for some 4 a.m. Floor-scrubbing, but sadly, the mother-daughter bonding session ended before it could morph into a more 'Moscow-approved' intervention.
Pity - now that would've been a real growth moment for Paige. Instead, we're left with her signature scowl as she demands answers from her parents, who skillfully dodge her queries with the usual "It's for the greater good" shtick. You almost feel sorry for Paige - almost. Her parents' evasiveness is infuriating even for us bystanders.
Yet, in this episode, our little dictator finally stumbles upon a valid point. Her frustration with never getting a straight answer from her parents? Completely justified. Maybe if Philip and Elizabeth weren't so busy overprotecting her, she'd have fewer reasons to sulk. Then again, sulking is her specialty. Meanwhile, Paige's growing fascination with her mother's lethal skills signals she might just be following in the family business after all.
Good thing she's got plenty of babysitting to distract her, because the FBI is making some actual headway, piecing together a web of clues about the mysterious robot machine and the spies using dead children's names. As for Oleg, our charming hero in the shadows, he's nudging the investigation in just the right direction, proving once again why he's one of the few characters you can genuinely root for. Because let's face it, even in the morally murky world of espionage, Oleg's got that rarest of qualities: a conscience.
The Americans: Travel Agents (2016)
Almost too much tension
The episode kicks off right where we left off - with tragic heroine Martha storming away from Gabriel in a fit of desperation. Given all the thrilling possibilities for how this storyline could unfold, it's almost cruel how the script leaves us dangling on the edge of our seats. The tension is palpable as every force in the universe converges on poor Martha, who, in her panic, decides to make one last call to her parents - unintentionally setting off a full-scale FBI manhunt. Meanwhile, Philip and Elizabeth, ever the loving couple, are out there hunting down Martha with the kind of tender care you'd expect from international spies.
Martha, clearly at her wits' end, even contemplates taking the ultimate way out, but just can't quite manage it. Unfortunately, before she can make any more life-altering decisions, who should show up but the ever-so-warm Elizabeth? Naturally, Elizabeth's approach to coaxing Martha back to the safe house is about as gentle as you'd expect from someone who could probably kill a man with a glare.
And then there's the end of the Clark-Martha marriage. It's truly devastating to watch Martha, a woman who finally found joy and connection in the arms of Clark, only to realize it was all a lie. And, as if that weren't enough, she's now being shipped off to a life of even more profound loneliness.
This episode ranks as one of the finest, drama laced with heartbreak and existential despair. It's a tough watch, made all the better by one crucial detail: it's blissfully Paige-free.
The Americans: Munchkins (2016)
Too much Paige is never a good thing
"The Americans" is undoubtedly one of the best series I've ever seen, with each episode delivering a punch of tension, emotion, and exceptional storytelling. Season four, in particular, stands out as an emotional rollercoaster, largely due to the tragic exit of Martha - a character so sympathetically portrayed that you almost forget she got involved with a Russian spy. While Nina's fate felt deserved, given her questionable life choices, Martha was simply the victim of love and loneliness. Then there's Elizabeth, the ultimate badass who could probably overthrow a small country in her sleep. And let's not forget Paige - the most "delightful" member of the Jennings family.
Paige, the quintessential American teenager who could teach a masterclass on whining. Her constant moping and knack for making everything worse are just so endearing 🙄. It's not like she's surrounded by international espionage or anything, right? During my first watch, I couldn't help but root for her to take a one-way trip to Siberia. Coal mining builds character, after all! But on my second watch, I've matured. Now, instead of actively rooting against her, I've settled into a comfortable indifference, although on this episode. Paige is at her finest - out-irritating even Alice, whose meltdown over Pastor Tim (the other star of my "least favorite characters" list) was a real highlight.
The truly gripping plots like Agent Gaad's tragic end, the Young Hee deception, and the escalating Kimmy situation seem to serve only as perfect backdrops for Paige's constant meddling. It's as if she's a fly buzzing around the grown-ups, demanding attention for problems she basically created herself. But at least this time, I'm only slightly less annoyed because I know what's coming for good old Pastor Tim.
Coffee and Cigarettes (2003)
Perfect against insomnia
It's no shock that Jarmusch and Benigni have worked together so often. Both have mastered the rare art of stretching a ten-minute sketch into a full-length feature that leaves audiences wondering why they bothered. "Coffee and Cigarettes" is Jarmusch doing what he does best - dressing up a bare-bones concept with semi-famous people and milking it until even the concept needs a cigarette break.
Of the 24 "celebrities" involved in this cinematic endurance test, I recognized about 10. The other 60% might have been the baristas who served the coffee. Not that it mattered - I barely cared about the ones I did know, aside from Iggy Pop and glamorous Cate Blanchett. The film is just a series of vignettes that are, at best, a collection of forgettable conversations, mostly about smoking and the joys of black-and-white checkered tablecloths.
Here's a rundown of the sketches and their "relevance," though I use the term loosely:
Strange to Meet You: Benigni meets a "celebrity" unknown to me and channels his inner mosquito - cheerfully irritating and impossible to swat away (1/5).
Twins: Two men I couldn't recognize have a conversation I forgot. Buscemi may be in this, but I was probably dozing off (1/5).
Somewhere in California: Iggy Pop and Tom Waits discuss music and quitting smoking while puffing away. A brief moment of relief in this sea of tedium (4/5).
Those Things'll Kill Ya: Two geezers engage in a forgettable chat, plus one of them has an annoying son. Riveting stuff (1/5).
Renée: A beautiful stranger flips through a gun magazine while a waiter awkwardly tries to strike up a conversation. Sounds more exciting than it is (1/5).
No Problem: Yet another two guys blabber on endlessly about whether one of them has a problem or not. Spoiler: the problem is this sketch (negative stars if I could).
Cousins: The one sketch that almost makes this worth it. Blanchett plays herself and her bitter cousin Shelly, who hilariously points out that the rich and famous get everything for free. (4/5).
Jack Shows Meg His Tesla Coil: Jack and Meg White prove that even rock legends can be dull as dishwater (1/5).
Cousins?: Alfred Molina goes on and on about possibly being related to Steve Coogan. Coogan couldn't care less (2/5).
Delirium: Two more strangers drink tea while Bill Murray guzzles coffee straight from the pot in an over-the-top performance. I can't tell if they're in on the joke or just in purgatory (2/5).
Champagne: Two elderly gentlemen wax nostalgic over bad coffee. A thrilling way to end this cinematic rollercoaster (1/5).
The Martian (2015)
Surprisingly lighthearted
On paper, The Martian sounds like a recipe for a depressing two hours: a lonely botanist-astronaut stranded on Mars, slowly starving to death. But to everyone's surprise, this film turns out to be less of a tear-jerker and more of a "space survival comedy."
Matt Damon plays Mark Watney, the titular "Martian" with the kind of relentless optimism that makes you wonder what he's been sipping. Stranded by mistake thanks to the questionable decisions of Commander Lewis (played by Jessica Chastain, who is about as convincing as a space commander as I am as a marathon runner), Mark decides his best course of action is to channel his inner farmer. So, he plants potatoes-on Mars. If you ever doubted the versatility of the humble spud, this movie will change your mind.
Of course, Mark's communication systems are fried, so he's basically ghosted by Earth. Fortunately, NASA eventually figures out that he's not quite dead, kicking off a frantic race against time to bring him home before he turns into Mars Jerky. Back on Earth, NASA assembles a crack team of quirky scientists, engineers, and other brainiacs who seem to think the best way to save Mark is to out-joke each other.
Meanwhile, Mark's former crewmates are cruising back to Earth on a journey so long and uneventful that drama inevitably bubbles up, forcing them to consider a slightly more daring rescue mission. Back on Mars, Mark logs his experiences, which include hating the Commander's disco music collection-because apparently, when stranded on another planet, the real hell is a soundtrack full of ABBA. To add insult to injury, Watney loses a lot of weight, nearly gets scurvy, and probably ends up craving anything but potatoes by the time help arrives.
Despite all this, The Martian manages to be a surprisingly lighthearted experience. The film is filled with humor, smart dialogue, and a story that proves space isn't just the final frontier-it's also the final test of how much bad luck one guy can survive. All in all, it's an entertaining ride that's well worth a watch, even if you'll never look at potatoes the same way again.
Stand by Me (1986)
Boys will be boys
Stand by Me is the quintessential "coming of age" tale, where four early-teen boys set out on an epic quest to find a dead body. Think of it as The Lord of the Rings, but with less magic and more childhood trauma. These boys hail from dysfunctional families and their home lives leave them all too eager to hike into the wilderness in search of a corpse. Fun times.
Not to be outdone, a rival gang of older would-be thugs - who must've used all the Brylcreem in town - are also hunting for the body. The story is narrated in flashbacks by the most successful of the boys, who, spoiler alert, becomes a writer. This might explain why the pacing feels like it was inspired by someone trying to hit a word count.
To keep things lively, the filmmakers throw in some "exciting" scenes, like a near-death experience with a train and a skin-crawling encounter with leeches. You know, the kind of wholesome adventures that really bring kids together-unless they get squashed or drained first. The big climax features the two gangs squaring off in a showdown so underwhelming that even the leeches probably yawned.
The dialogue aims for realism but lands somewhere between "awkward puberty" and "are they really saying that?" It's the kind of script where you get a story about a kid "barfing" at a pie-eating contest and wonder if that's supposed to be the highlight. Spoiler: it is. Sure, there are a few touching moments sprinkled in, but let's face it, none of these kids are exactly Shakespearean prodigies.
On the bright side, the movie gives us a glimpse of a very young Kiefer Sutherland, rocking a bleach job that looks like it was done in the dark. It's memorable, though maybe not for the right reasons.
Rock the Kasbah (2015)
Interesting premise, uneven development
Rock the Kasbah serves up a wild and slightly ridiculous premise: a rock tour in Afghanistan to entertain the troops. Enter Richie Lanz, a washed-up rock manager who sees dollar signs and jumps at the chance to drag his reluctant lover and protégé, Ronnie, to Kabul. The plan? Showcase her talent and, more importantly, pay off his bills. The problem? Ronnie's got dreams of singing her own material instead of covers, and Afghanistan? Not exactly her idea of a career hotspot. So, naturally, she bolts with Richie's last shred of cash and, for reasons only known to the scriptwriter, his passport. Talk about a bad trip!
Stranded and broke, Richie stumbles into the orbit of Merci, a sultry, upmarket lady of the night played by Kate Hudson, who somehow ends up working the streets of Kabul. (Why? Because it's a comedy, that's why.) And then there's the friendly local taxi driver who, in the grand tradition of shady deals, takes Richie on a road trip to a remote village where he discovers Salima-a powerhouse singer with one tiny problem: she's Pashtun and absolutely forbidden to sing.
Now, if this were set in, say, Amish country or Greenland, we'd all have a good chuckle and move on. But since it's Afghanistan, cue the controversy. Comedy in this context is a bit like walking through a minefield-one wrong step, and boom! Still, I found the setting to be surprisingly laid-back, almost too chill for the region. But let's be honest, Salima's talent? Maybe not worth risking life and limb for. Sure, she's a good singer, but you could find plenty of those in less explosive locales.
Kate Hudson does a solid job as the glamorous but improbable Kabul escort, and even Bruce Willis pops up in a supporting role, adding to the fun. But make no mistake, this is Bill Murray's show. I've seen him in Broken Flowers and St. Vincent recently, but he's way more fun here. Richie's a lovable rogue - dishonest enough to keep things interesting, but with a heart of gold buried somewhere under all that grift. I much prefer this lively Murray to the grumpy, subdued characters he's played elsewhere.
Probably the movie got unfairly reviewed just because of the setting. Albeit not particularly original, it's entertaining and Murray delivers even to non-ardent fans.
The Frozen Ground (2013)
A decent thriller
The Frozen Ground, starring Nicolas Cage and based on a true story, presents a gripping narrative centered around Alaska State Trooper Halcombe's pursuit of notorious serial killer Robert Hansen. With the help of Hansen's latest victim, Cindy, Halcombe works tirelessly to bring the murderer to justice. While the plot may not be groundbreaking, the film offers several intriguing elements.
Set in the desolate, wintery landscape of Alaska, the environment accentuates the bleakness and despair of the situation. Cage, though not typically one of my favorite actors, delivers a solid performance as the determined and concerned policeman. Meanwhile, John Cusack is chillingly effective as Hansen, showcasing his versatility as an actor, particularly given his previous reputation as a lovable weirdo in other roles. It's remarkable how convincingly he portrays such a menacing character.
On the downside, Vanessa Hudgens' portrayal of Cindy comes off as slightly too hysterical and unreliable, though the role calls for an immature teenager who exacerbates her situation through a series of poor decisions. Additionally, the District Attorney's vigorous defense of Hansen feels somewhat unrealistic, as he seems more like Hansen's defense attorney than a prosecutor, despite mounting evidence. I've rarely seen a D. A. so reluctant to pursue a case against an alleged criminal. Lastly, the film employs the overused "last job" trope with Halcombe's impending departure from Alaska. This cliché doesn't add much to the story and feels unnecessary, as it doesn't significantly impact the narrative.
Overall, The Frozen Ground is an engaging film within its genre. It avoids excessive gore while still being realistic and chilling enough to keep viewers on edge.
St. Vincent (2014)
The trouble with Vincent
St. Vincent, is the heartwarming tale of how a sloppy, egocentric, selfish, alcoholic gambler with a penchant for hating everyone manages to become a modern-day saint. Bill Murray, with his usual flair, plays Vincent, a charmingly despicable character who seems to be an older, grumpier version of Phil from Groundhog Day. The twist? Unlike Phil, Vincent doesn't bother with all that learning and personal growth nonsense. Why should he? That's so overrated.
Enter Maggie, a financially-strapped single mom played by Melissa McCarthy. She's almost forced to entrust her innocent son Oliver to Vincent, because who better to babysit than a guy who's already charging her for damages to his fence and tree-damages he probably invented? It's nice to see McCarthy playing it straight for once, and shockingly, even the kid isn't half bad. But let's not get distracted.
Vincent, in his infinite wisdom, takes Oliver on an enlightening tour of horse races and bars, introduces him to his "friendly" pregnant lady of the night, Daka, and generally showcases all the life lessons a growing boy needs. It's almost touching, really-if you can get past the drinking, gambling, and questionable role models.
The one almost-redeemable thing Vincent does is visit Sandy, his Alzheimer's-stricken wife once a week. It's a touching display of devotion, if you overlook the fact that he's also stealing money from Oliver's savings to pay for her care. But who's keeping track of the moral scorecard here?
By the time Oliver writes his school essay about a "modern saint," the film decides to throw us a curveball: surprise, Vincent was a Vietnam vet who saved some comrades. Apparently, this, combined with his weekly laundry visits to Sandy, qualifies him for sainthood. Forget the gambling, the drinking, the fraud, and the general mistreatment of everyone around him -Vincent's a hero because, well, the movie says so.
In the end, St. Vincent leaves us with a comforting message: sainthood isn't about living a decent, respectable life. No, it's about being an obnoxious drunk who occasionally does something nice, when you're not too busy ruining the lives of those around you. Because, after all, in this messed-up world, we really do have the saints we deserve.