What a mess. There's no better word to describe Inhumans. I usually try to find something redeemable in almost anything I watch, but here? Nothing works. Poorly written, poorly directed, and completely soulless. And the saddest part? The source material had real potential — all wasted. The story starts with no context, no proper character introduction, and a string of scenes that don’t excite, don’t surprise, and barely make sense. If you haven’t read the comics or seen other Marvel series, you’re lost. If you have, it's even more painful. Plotlines collapse under their own weight, and the few interesting elements are thrown away. The characters are a disaster. Their decisions defy logic, and most of them are symbolically stripped of what makes them unique. The mute lead, who could’ve been compelling, is wasted. And cutting Medusa’s hair? A metaphor for the show’s senseless approach. Visual effects are inconsistent, with some decent moments and others that feel 20 years outdated. The costumes? Hard to take seriously. The low budget is obvious in every scene. If anything is somewhat tolerable, it's Maximus. At least he has a goal, even if it’s not very fresh. Still, it’s not enough. This series could’ve been a key piece in the Marvel universe. Instead, it’s a textbook case of how not to adapt a comic. A real shame.

Sometimes what surprises you most in a spy thriller isn't the action, but the silence. In Amateur, James Hawes avoids easy thrills to build a story where emotion weighs more than car chases or shootouts. Yes, everything you'd expect from the genre is there: agencies, betrayals, secrets—but the camera lingers more on the looks than the bullets. And that's, surprisingly, what makes it different. Rami Malek carries the film with a restrained performance that suits the character, though it might leave some viewers cold. He’s no Bourne, nor does he try to be, even if the comparison is inevitable. His journey is more internal than physical, and that doesn’t always translate into pace or spectacle. But if you play along, it works. The rage, the loss, the obsession—it’s all there, in his eyes, in his tense body, in the way he speaks softly and walks slowly. The script has its clumsy moments, no doubt. Some narrative choices feel forced, and the ending, while coherent, might not satisfy those looking for a classic climax. But there’s an honesty in the proposal that makes up for it. It doesn't try to be a franchise or revolutionize the genre—just tell a story about pain, wrapped in a world of codes and guns. Visually, Amateur chooses a sober style, with clean, understated cinematography. Everything serves the character, the conflict, the grief. It's not a perfect film, but it stays with you. One that prefers to suggest rather than shout. I liked it. Not because of what it has as a thriller, but because of what it hides underneath: an intimate, slow-burning story where the wounds aren’t always visible, but deeply felt. You have to watch it from that place—from loss, not from adrenaline. And if you shift your mindset, you’ll probably enjoy it too.

There’s something deeply authentic about Friday Night Lights. It’s not just about a football team — it’s about an entire town pouring its hopes into kids barely out of adolescence. The film captures it with rawness, without artificial heroism or grand speeches, and that’s what makes it stand out. I know firsthand what it feels like in a high school locker room — the obsession with reaching the state final, the fear of failing when your whole identity revolves around the sport. That’s why it hit me hard to see Buddy left with no future after an injury. Because when people only value you for what you do on the field, the blow is deeper than just physical. Peter Berg’s direction is direct, with a camera that puts you inside every tackle and every lost stare. Billy Bob Thornton’s performance is restrained and believable, just like a coach who teaches not only plays, but also how to deal with failure. I’m giving it a 7 because, although it doesn’t go too deep into some characters, it does convey the essentials: the pressure, the environment, and what it means when football isn’t just a game — it’s a way out, a burden, and sometimes, a mistake.

I knew I wasn't about to watch a masterpiece, but I didn’t expect something this disastrous. Monster Hunter fails on almost every level. As a fan of the video game, the least you want is a well-done nod or an atmosphere that feels familiar. But no. The film is just noise, explosions, monsters that barely convey anything, and characters you don’t care about. Not even Milla Jovovich can save this, and I usually have a soft spot for her physical commitment in this kind of film. The script is a collection of scenes that don’t connect, with a storyline that feels like it was scribbled on a napkin. Paul W.S. Anderson’s direction goes all in on non-stop action—but without rhythm, without soul, without emotion. Some of the creatures look interesting, sure, but the whole thing is so boring that it’s hard to stay engaged beyond the first act. I struggle to understand how so much material can be so poorly used. And it’s not a matter of budget or actors—it’s just that there’s not a single good idea behind it. It all feels rushed and lifeless. A film made to meet a quota, not to entertain or pay tribute to anything. I give it a 3/10 because, in spite of everything, Anderson has done better in the past and a couple of scenes are decently shot. But this is a tiring mess. The kind that not even popcorn can save.

Annihilation had a lot going for it: Natalie Portman, a solid cast, careful aesthetics, and a disturbing sci-fi premise. But the truth is that the film ends up halfway between cerebral cinema and spectacle, without truly excelling in either. I had a hard time staying interested. More than once I was tempted to turn it off, but I held on out of respect for the core idea… and to be able to give a proper opinion. The script, which promised a fascinating exploration of change, identity, and the unknown, ends up dissolving into long scenes that go nowhere, characters who barely connect, and a pace that invites more sleep than thought. Yes, there are visually powerful moments, but beautiful images are not enough if the story doesn't flow. And here, at times, it feels like it doesn’t even move forward. I don’t blame the cast, who do what they can, especially Portman, always reliable. But Garland’s direction, which I found precise and suggestive in Ex Machina, comes across here as cold, even pretentious. He seems more interested in metaphors than in building something that truly moves or intrigues. I give it a 6 out of respect for the genre, its performers, and some ideas that deserved a better fate. But if this film has become a benchmark for many, I honestly don’t share that view. For me, it’s one of those titles that get hyped by their packaging, but deflate when you actually watch them.