peterkowalski

Another season is behind us - it was a good one, albeit predictable (with a predictable - although fully deserved - winner). And the finale? Did it feel unpolished, rushed, manufactured, and overall meh to anyone? Those watching the show from the beginning will remember better. Even the covid open-air cinema parking one was more exciting than the new stage (slightly bigger than the previous one, and far less exciting than the theatre... bring. Back. Theatres. For. The. Grand. Finales). The production was, meh, alright. The vibe was, meh, alright. The final lipsync was... OK? I guess? What happened to the interviews with all the contestants? Where's the fun gone?

Add those together and you get a finale you watch while washing the dishes, because nothing is enticing enough to get both eyes on. You can do better, Ru. Stop relying on your legacy.

"Call me Marianna" is not an easy watch, for more than one reason - not only it's a story of a transgender woman living in Poland (the move was shot shortly before the far-right party, PiS, became the government). When we meet her, she's struggling to make relations with her family, who fully reject her transition. It's like making a whip out of water.

For a while, it seems like she's getting what she so desperately needs - the surgery consultations are going well, and she's clearly optimistic about her future, even if it's one that will cost her family.

At some point, Marianna's fight takes a bigger toll - due to the hormone use, she experiences a brain stoke, leaving her a half-paralysed, on a wheelchair, with difficulties speaking. The jig is up - it was never supposed to be easy - Poland in 2014 is hardly the best place in the world to be a transgender woman - and now it's going to be that much harder.

And yet Marianna never gives up, not fully, not even when calling her mother from the hospital bed - clearly depressed, pondering about her own survival, mental and physical. She somehow still hangs on, depending on the few friends she has to get her going, literally.

As the credits roll, two main feelings complement each other - one of the heartbreak for Marianna's struggles, so faithfully reflecting how it is to be a transgender person (or lgbtqia+, for that matter), and another one, a strong admiration for her power, determination, and strength.

The second one is a bit more prevalent.

"Moonlight and Valentino" might not be everyone's cup of tea: men have very little to say here, literally - which would make this primarily a "chick flick". Labelling it as such would not only be offensive, but downright incorrect - yes, it's a women's world here, but it's also so much more.

It's a story of a close-knit pack of women, all incredibly smart and talented in their own ways, getting together to comfort one of them in the time of need - the beloved one's death. It's only terribly sad on paper, because Moonlight's writers do not shy away from an occasional joke, all subtle and well-placed, something they deserve a lot of credit for. The chemistry between the characters is incredible - Perkins, who is now the "W" word, is the hub that holds everything together. She's the mothership everyone satellites around: her sister (Paltrow), their mother in law (Turner) and the artistic best friend (Goldberg). It's fascinating to watch them collaborate between one another, to exchange words and gestures as if it was the most natural thing in the world. All surrounding the idea of Perkins "getting better" - that is the arc of the movie, the premise of the story, and it's really enjoyable to see what happens next, what turn it will take.

And yet one wonders if it could be just a little bit better. If the characters were not so terribly attached to their roles, it they could bleed outside of their borders, just a little bit. Particularly Turner and Paltrow - both incredible in their own ways - stick to their assignments perhaps too faithfully. Perkins takes a while to unfold, and it takes a while for us to figure her out, to the point of her character seemingly not caring about her husband's passing: the jokes, the laughter, the smiles. Those little things here and there are those annoying little sticks in the road that stand in the way of us enjoying the ride. It's not a bad ride, but it could have been better. Easily.

It's definitely not a documentary for the faint of heart - especially the dog lovers. It's also not focusing that much on the actual dogs - showing stories of warriors and their canines, often injured in battle.

The strongest voice here is the one telling a heartbreaking story of how the dogs are used for their unique ability to be trained to attack some and be faithful to their owners, essentially fighting battles they never chose to fight - getting injured or dead in the process. Everyone who's against war even in the slightest will resent that deeply, and perhaps rightfully so. It doesn't really help how the surviving dogs are called heroes, put on the covers of magazines, and celebrated. I'm not a dog, but I doubt it means anything to them - an ability to walk, to be healthy physically and mentally would probably mean a lot more.

It also shows the emotional/intelligence of the soldiers themselves - you can hear on of them saying how watching "Grey's Anatomy" was one of the favorite things of his dog, and when they took it off the air, it "almost killed her". No, Trent. It was the war that almost killed her. You know, the war us, humans decided to fight and took the loyal friends along for the ride.

Let's just say it right now and get it over with - Trainwreck: Woodstock 99 is easily one of the best documentaries Netflix nas come up with in recent years; it's partly because most of those has been utter crap, but in a way, Trainwreck can really hold up its own. And if you're a fan of seeing things go south (and you are, aren't you, why else would you be here?), then you'll enjoy every bit of this one.

But of course, Oscar for best documentary short contender this one is not. And it isn't for the lack of trying - it's properly produced, nicely put together, with a clear vision almost till the end. Because -much like the event it's trying to portray- it's towards the end where things really start to fall apart. Are there repercussions? Ramifications? What do we really feel about the festival, 20+ years later? Have we learned anything or, was this documentary -again, much like the event- just an excuse to see s#it burn? Is saying, no plans for another Woodstock, really it?

A good documentary is a pure and simple art form - it's a music piece, an opera. It must come together effortlessly and it must make sense from the start till the end - here, you're left with an unfinished symphony. Unless this has always been the idea. Much unlike the even it's trying to portray.

Formentor - "The Sea of Words" is a documentary, portraying the history of Formentor hotel, located by the beach, between rocky hills, in the northeast part of Mallorca. Starting from telling the stories of the people who had conceived it, built it, and ran it, -and those who come to visit- it features some interesting tidbits, but eventually, the story gets lost in the sea, without much chance of returning safe to the harbor. Unfocused, relying too heavily on one-too-many outtakes from live piano/orchestra/opera concerts, white lilies shots and drone pictures, it eventually becomes somewhat of a pompous and pretentious promotion of the establishment. It's a real shame, because there is a clearly a lot of history - if the makers stepped back to regain focus, remove what's nothing but a filler, this could be a much better offer.

Some TV shows require some time to get underneath your skin - some make you fall in love instantly. Then there are those which, from the very beginning, show no soul, no charm, and effectively, no interest in being your new favorite binge.

Guess which category the unorganized, convoluted and confused "Julia" falls into.

It's not that HBO Max biopic, somewhat based on Julia Child's life (more concretely, the beginning of her TV career) is not well produced - that it is. The details, however are almost too thought out, leaving no space for any charm or likability; it seems as nobody really stopped to ask, "OK, but... what are we trying to do here?".

Then there is Sarah Lancashire, possibly only casted as Julia Child for her physical likeness; her British accent is too thick, and when she tries to bring her tone down to sound like Child, she sounds either ridiculous, fake, or as if she is catching a breath. Trying to believe her is exhausting.

On the other side of the spectrum we have David Hyde Pierce, portraying Julia's husband and partner in crime Paul, makes no effort at all, to do anything, for anyone. There is no chemistry between him and Lancashire. It's a dry breeze of absolutely nothing between the two - it's almost as if watching oil and water mix.

"Julia" is a sad effort to bank in a revival of an icon. Child will be remembered for many things - talent, books, TV, more books, more movies, documentary.

Not this.

"The French Dispatch", the latest of Wes Anderson's creations ("movies" won't cut here) is a rare treat to his fans and a handful of those who will appreciate the nuances - but offers little value to the rest.

It's not an easy movie - segmented, disjointed, switching between color and black & white - and it seems like something Anderson wanted to do for a while; letting go of the fear of being direct and digestible, he's going full in on his artistry. The talent is there, no doubt about it - but "The French Dispatch" is a call to such a limited audience, it almost feels like a middle finger to those who want to be a part of Anderson's world. Here, the message is clear - if you don't know, you don't belong. And as such, is not pleasant.

After an unusually creepy, but ultimately victorious previous episode, "M" feels like a character development u-turn. It's a complete mystery why Alex would allow the birthday party to get out of hand, especially after last episode's discovery, and risk losing her newly found (and hard won) paradise home. A complete disaster.

I stuck until the end, and I saved my judgment till the end - something I never do - turns out, if it doesn't hook you up soon, it won't.

By the end of the show, I'm mostly confused. And I really can't count all the things that are wrong with the show; burn so slow it's going backwards? No real script? Fake Russian accent? Horrible last episode? Predictability? Surprisingly mediocre acting? Deadpan empty dialogues?

And I could go on, but it would only mean wasting more time on this empty shell of a production - which you spent more time on that you should too, only having read this review.

If you ever wondered how would a documentary about Italian food and culture, filmed in Italy, hosted by Stanley Tucci, would look like, then Searching for Italy is exactly that. Effortlessly elegant, patient and hungry Tucci goes from city to city, region to region, with one and one only purpose - to taste what's the greatest in each of them. And it's as mouthwatering as it is interesting, even if you had ticked off some of the previous, similar titles. That being said, "Searching..." falls asleep every now and then and fades into the background - but that only shows the high standards it's being put to. I consider the first season a brilliant start, and an extremely promising appetizer. And I'm ready for more.

The makers committed a cardinal sin when making this documentary - they filmed a movie without an idea, allowing you to think it might be about the act and story of the suspended coffee, but no - it's a lackluster collection of stories taped together without any common thread, showing people, drinking coffee, in various parts of the world. And even if that sounds interesting to you, believe me, it isn't.

There could be a number of great things about the show. The fashion. Heidi. TIM! Fresh judges!

And that's perhaps it. I gave the show 1,5 chance.

I get it - a fresh start after you dump your project runway ex. I also get partnering with Amazon seemed like such a good idea at the time, but by the second season, Amazon grew to be the evil corporation nobody wants to be a part of; aired around Jeff's launch into space, the second season starts with an uneasy feeling. And sure enough, the show's shortcomings -some of which you might have forgiven the first time around- are back and they're worse than before.

The most forced is the formula - gone are top / bottom three, in are convos with some contestants allowing the judges to change their minds. And that is often anticlimatic; a contestant is sent off home, then another one is asked to a conversation. Why? I understand an attempt to approach reality tv in a new way, but that's just silly.

Then, there's the music. If shutterstock made songs, those would be it; a couple of seconds here and there between shots do nothing but annoy and distract.

No more sowing all night long, no more Mood; instead, there are seamstresses and fabric storage. The only thing more boring would be literally sending the fabric to Amazon and getting a ready dress back, in an Amazon box no less.

Finally, the magic of what made the original idea happen - the unknown, lowkey fashion designers, who never made further than *maybe* their local mall fashion show, waiting for their chance to make it. In lieu, we have "brands" (MtC buzz word of the moment): people who already might have made it, somewhere, but in the grand scheme of the fashion world, they're relatively small fish (spoiler: they stay that way). They might have the drive, but it's nowhere near the hunger we witnessed. And now, perhaps more than before, we need to see people who get a chance to get out of their garages, studio apartments, small houses in the middle of the forest in Nebraska, and *make it*. Now it's the time for the next Christian, Santino, Dmitry.

Yes, this review was based heavily on comparisons. Because it's a Heidi and Tim show. It's not a Heidi show. It's not a Tim show. It's impossible to take Making the Cut without severing off the Project Runway limb. And if MtC came up with good production, good ideas, good looks, nobody would dare to compare.

A show that nobody asked for, nobody knows about, and a lot will love.

"L'agence" truly is a refreshing departure from American top class listing shows, where the looks and the facade is what counts. The Parisian Agency focuses on what's more down to earth (well, almost. 18 million euros for an apartment, anyone?). No spoilers: you get a family run business, gorgeous locations aplenty, some small cliffhangers and one very cool grandma. Some successes, some failures, some chateaux, a sale here, a rent there. It's a variety entertainment show, and it never really stops.

I will be on the lookout for the next season. As far as reality tv goes, this one's a keeper.

I have been watching RPDR since season one, when it originally aired, and watched all spinoffs and all stars. It might be the lackluster Down Under being shown in parallel that is putting ES in such a bright light, but out of all international series, España is standing out and really is showing what Spain is all about: cariño, fun, naughtiness, and warmth. After only three episodes, I am a fan, placing the first Spanish season shortly after UK's second (and if things continue, it might take the lead).

Great job so far, ¡no la caguéis!

Straight actors playing gay characters is as ok as white people playing black ones. It's 2021. This s*** is not going to fly anymore.

I used to watch the show from the very first episode; back in the day, it wasn't popular, it wasn't that interesting, nobody knew about it. I stuck with it through thick and thin. Watched it all, because I loved it from the first sight.

After all the seasons, international editions, all stars, covid, in and out, I look back and see how over produced and fake it has become. How clear it has become DragRace is not about Drag anymore; it's about taking drag to the bank. It's not about personality, fashion, carisma, talent. It's about what sells at the moment, and what won't.

Sashay. Away.

As far as being a well grafted, carefully produced documentary goes, "Operation Varsity Blues ..." doesn't do too bad; I do however doubt whether the makers used all the crayons in their box to make sure it's impactful as well. It becomes clear towards the end, during one of the interviewees poignant words describing the sentences as being pitiful and unlikely to make a difference - and it's on the ironic side that the makers didn't ensure at least their documentary was making a difference either. The documentary leaves you with an unsatisfactory feeling, unfinished business, and it's slightly more informative than the news coverages you have probably already seen. And it's a shame.

I would prefer being kicked in the balls for 30 minutes straight than sitting through this crapshow again

You cannot really expect more from a tv series; drama, murder, colors, symbolism, and great acting; add a brilliant pace development, and you have yourself an exciting new tv series, binge worthy and beyond interesting. That is, of course, if you know how to end it elegantly and subtly; mysteriously yet respectfully to the viewers who watched it. "Ratched" fails on that account, leaving a sour after taste; the last episode, serving merely as a lame excuse for a second season, ends things sloppily and lazily. In the end, what could have been an intelligent and tasteful crowning of an seemingly intelligent and tasteful show is a bland whatever of an hour spent in front of screen, feeling somewhat cheated. It's not a coronation; it's a decapitation.

The third episode is a mixed bag; I confess having very mixed emotions while watching it. On one side, there is the tragedy that's not up for discussion - small kids being crushed to death by a piece of furniture. There are also experts who say - this should not be on the customers, instead - on the manufacturer to produce a safe product. Fine enough. And then the narrator reveals IKEA knew about the dangers way back when (and decided to sell the furniture anyway), and put warnings and recommendations in the instructions of assembly. If that is indeed the case - isn't the customer responsible here? They bought the piece of furniture knowing full well they are to assemble it on their end, and adhere to manufacturer's instructions and warnings. And as such - again, not dumbing down the tragedy here, nor defending multinational corporations - it's hard to blame the manufacturer. If I buy a knife and cut myself with it, can I take the manufacturer to court, saying it was too sharp?

Netflix has become known for its fair share of real crime docuseries, and while some of them were less successful than others, the new documentary based on the famous "l'affair Gregory" pushes the boundaries of how well the genre can be executed, joining Making the Murderer and The Keepers in the fall of fame.

The original crime - the kidnapping and killing a 4-year-old in the small French village quickly becomes virtually nothing but a beginning of the now-35-years-and-counting saga of lies, power abuse, violence and despair, with twist and turns on every corner. That alone guarantees a good watch, but the makers were able to somehow push the envelope further; the story telling is powerful here, production is solid and the final result is the most fully realized, self-confident piece of document making I have seen in a long time. One has to constantly remind oneself it is a death of a child we are getting further and further away from - and from finding the person(s) responsible for it.

It may not be 100% perfect, but I had to give it a ten - if for not the brilliant job done, then for allowing the memory of little Gregory to live on a bit longer. And without finding the person culpable for the crime, that might just have to do.

There is a saying in Slavic culture: "where are 6 cooks, there is nothing to eat". The cooks are skilled here; you can't state the obvious. And one would think that even in the worst scenario, that would be enough; their skills, talent and comedy would make any idiotic script fly. One would be wrong, because in "Wine Country" absolutely nothing happens. There are no thrills thrilling, no jokes landing, no plot happening. The little attempts at making the story happen ends up making up no sense whatsoever; the comedy is virtually non existent. "Wine Country" is working overtime to become the worst movie of 2019... the cooks might need a break from cooking. And definitely no more wine for them.

Nothing special here, and no wheels are reinvented. That being said, 1922 does a hell of a good job telling a story, backed up by solid acting and great score. Most of all, nobody is trying to do achieve the unachieveable; everyone's targets are on point and, most importantly, are achieved. And if you take into consideration the mediocre record of King's adaptations, 1922 might just very well be one of the best ones out there.

Think Sex and the City, 30 years later - with some elements of The First Wives Club mixed in there for a good measure. The book club is just an excuse to flash the 50 Shades of Grey every other scene - but let's pretend it really was what pushed those 4 accomplished - it cannot be stressed hard enough - women to look for love, sorry, sex. The moment Christian Grey's name gets said, there is only one focus in life - to get laid, against all odds and circumstances. And that would actually be absolutely, fantastically ok nobody should stop wanting to get some because they are older - but the manner the topic is handled is heinous, sad, and desperate, and the ridiculous product placement and green screens only add salt to the wound. Not telling you to avoid, but remember - there are a lot of other things you can do with two hours. Just saying.