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It fascinates me in absolutely everything. First of all, in the fact that the animation has leapt forward as significantly as it did between Toy Story and Toy Story 2 movies, and you can see almost every molecule. Secondly, the natural sequence of events, where the new emotions realistically edge out the ones that used to be in charge, where everything feels more "lifelike" than if it were a more thought-out existential drama. And last but not least, of course, how everything emotionally comes together in the end, so that the last ten to fifteen minutes have literally drained my tear ducts. It's a particular relief and a ray of hope that this journey has been so beloved of critics, viewers, and the entire world. We are all a thirteen-year-old girl.

The one time I proudly set off to admire a Czech national treasure, I have ended up helplessly staring at an empty text field where my review should be, because I can't think how to lie my way out of such disappointment. There's little as truly Czech, nationalistic, and suitable for international boasting as Jiří Trnka and the Czech painter Mikoláš Aleš. The reality, however, is that most of the film is spent with a brave children's choir singing robustly which is a bit unbearable when combined with endless celebrations and holidays of the ensemble and the musicians, and above all, isn't even worth listening to. It's enough to make you forget the beautiful puppets and bunches of ideas, which Trnka later brings almost to perfection, because of all the noise. And so the legend of Saint Procopius stands out conspicuously with its richness and atmosphere, while something like the Spring interlude just seems endless. There is nothing for it but to shake my head and turn to literally anything else from one of the giants of Czech cinema.

A journey into famous waters that I never really wanted to take. I never believed Fede Alvarez had it in him to take on a legend of these dimensions, I didn't believe in the much-trumpeted genre setting of thoroughbred gore, but when critics, viewers, and box offices scoffed at Ridley Scott's misunderstood Alien: Covenant years ago, there was probably no other path left to go. And yet it works – and the combination of modern editing with dirty and oily technique is aggressive and beautiful from the very first minute. The aggressive creature is given enough space, the human crew makes mistakes that are understandable yet still manage clever and logical decisions at key moments. There is so much winking at the past that I was daydreaming, knowing that with a bit of exaggeration I could imagine I was watching Alien 1.5. Not to mention that finally, after years of waiting, the lines drawn from the classic tetralogy and the mythology of Prometheus have finally been combined, which is a gift that I never expected to receive. Thanks to this enrichment, Alien: Romulus is truly more than just a fun horror film, nor is it merely a side chapter the series could have done without. It's a reward for those who never completely gave up on Alien (and who can see beyond the first twist and don't mind that the script plays a bit subversively with them with iconic lines). I understand the arguments about the polarizing final chapter; without it, I would be happier than I am with it now. On the other hand, I must applaud the courage that even the brave and visually deconstructed genre film Alien: Resurrection was lacking almost thirty years ago. The fact that the result of such an experiment did not meet my expectations is my problem. Everyone who sees the saga as a whole and not just as a space for the eternal (and nowadays really endlessly tiresome) argument about which of the first two installments is better should also give it a try.