🇪🇸 Los diarios de la boticaria|Reseña Original de Marabuzal 

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• IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt19244304
• Platform: HBO MAX

Rottentomatoes Rating

Source Chris Chalk is doing amazing work as Dick Halloran and every scene with him just feels more interesting than everything else going on, when he touches that slingshot on the plane and gets pulled into Pennywises lair with all those floating bodys and his dead grandmother telling him to run that shit gets dark real fast. You can see the terror on his face and when he almost jumps out of the damn plane before Leroy grabs him it feels like actual danger for once, this is the kind of intensity the show needs more of because it reminds you just how powerful and messed up Pennywise really is even when we are not seeing the clown directly. The vision itself looks incredible too with that whole underwater sewer vibe and the dead kids just hanging there in the air, its one of those moments where the show stops messing around with teases and actually delivers something that makes your skin crawl. Dick realizing he just touched something way beyond his understanding and that this thing can reach into his head whenever it wants to, thats the kind of horror this show should be leaning into way more often instead of dancing around it with all these side plots that do not go anywhere fast enough.

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The Sexual Revolution stands as one of the very few transformative currents of 20th Century Western society still widely lauded as an unambiguous positive achievement. Whilst its progression was undeniably slow, fraught with contradiction, and often nebulous in precise definition, its tangible impact on individual liberty and social mores remains profound. Among its most significant, albeit contentious, benchmarks was the seismic shift catalysed by Alfred Charles Kinsey (1894–1956), the American biologist whose pioneering, taboo-shattering research into human sexuality fundamentally reshaped public discourse. Bill Condon’s 2004 biopic, Kinsey, attempts to chronicle this pivotal figure – the so-called ‘father of modern American sexology’ – whose dual tomes, Sexual Behavior in the Human Male (1948) and Sexual Behavior in the Human Female (1953), collectively known as the Kinsey Reports, became improbable bestsellers and cultural touchstones. Despite enduring controversy and persistent criticism regarding methodology and interpretation, these works undeniably paved the intellectual groundwork for the subsequent loosening of sexual constraints in the 1960s and 70s. Condon’s film, however, whilst tackling this vital subject, ultimately falters, delivering a curiously lifeless and dramatically inert portrayal that struggles to match the revolutionary fervour of its subject.

The narrative structure is conventional biopic fare, framing Kinsey’s (Liam Neeson) life story through the device of him acting as a subject within his own research protocol, answering intimate questions about his sexual history. This prompts a series of flashbacks, beginning with formative vignettes of a repressed childhood under a stern, sexually anxious father, before settling on the adult Kinsey as a meticulous professor of entomology specialising in gall wasps at Indiana University. His meeting and marriage to student Clara ‘Mac’ McMillan (Laura Linney) proves pivotal; their initial, comically disastrous attempts at consummation expose a mutual, profound ignorance about basic human physiology – a revelation that sparks Kinsey’s scientific curiosity. Applying his rigorous biological methodology to this societal blind spot, he, Mac, and a growing circle of students and faculty members embark on systematic data collection. This collaborative effort gradually evolves into the monumental project yielding the Kinsey Reports. Crucially, the research leads to the conceptualisation of the Kinsey Scale, challenging the rigid binary of hetero- and homosexuality by demonstrating the spectrum of sexual orientation. The film heavily implies Kinsey’s own journey along this scale, depicting his bisexuality through a relationship with the charismatic young researcher Clyde Martin (Peter Sarsgaard), tacitly accepted within the Kinsey household’s unconventional, polyamorous dynamic. The latter half charts the inevitable backlash: conservative outrage, Cold War-era accusations of communism and ‘un-Americanism’, financial pressures on the Kinsey Institute, and the toll on Kinsey’s health.

Kinsey arrived with significant contextual baggage, released in late 2004 shortly after George W. Bush’s re-election, widely interpreted as a victory for the religious Right and socially conservative values. It was immediately framed, often simplistically, as Hollywood’s liberal counter-arsenal – a deliberate, Oscar-season rebuttal to the prevailing political climate, particularly concerning homosexuality. This positioning feels less organic and more like strategic messaging. Condon, a gay filmmaker who earned acclaim with Gods and Monsters, places pronounced emphasis on Kinsey’s bisexuality and the institute’s sexual fluidity, arguably leaning into his own perspective. While this focus is historically grounded, its prominence within the film’s narrative arc feels calibrated for contemporary political resonance, foreshadowing the more explicit mainstream challenges to conservative orthodoxy that Brokeback Mountain would deliver the following year. It risks reducing Kinsey’s complex scientific mission to a primarily identity-political symbol for modern audiences.

On strictly technical grounds, Kinsey is undeniably competent. The mid-20th Century aesthetic is reconstructed with period-appropriate fidelity on a modest budget, avoiding the glossy anachronisms that plague lesser period pieces. The performances are uniformly strong, with Neeson capturing Kinsey’s obsessive intellect, social awkwardness, and underlying passion with remarkable nuance. Laura Linney is equally compelling as Mac, portraying her evolution from naive student to indispensable intellectual partner and sexual pioneer with quiet strength; both actors convincingly embody their characters across decades, a significant feat. Peter Sarsgaard brings a necessary, unsettling magnetism to Clyde Martin.

Yet, for all its surface competence, Kinsey’s fundamental failure lies in its crippling lack of dramatic tension and emotional engagement. The initial premise – a scientist applying empirical rigour to the hidden world of human sexuality – holds genuine intrigue. Witnessing Kinsey methodically dismantle societal hypocrisy by uncovering biological realities long obscured by prudery should be electrifying. Instead, the film devolves into a dry, almost mechanical chronicle of research milestones, committee meetings, and data collection. Crucially, Kinsey and his inner circle exist within the insulated, privileged bubble of upper-middle-class academia. Whilst societal disapproval is mentioned, the palpable sense of personal or professional peril – the genuine fear that drives revolutionary figures – is largely absent until the very late stages, when the backlash materialises. By then, the narrative momentum has stalled. The characters seem curiously insulated from the very societal earthquake they are causing; their struggles feel internal and bureaucratic rather than existentially threatening. This absence of sustained, high-stakes drama renders much of the middle section ponderous.

This dramatic inertia extends to the film’s conclusion. A late scene features a middle-aged woman (Lynn Redgrave) approaching Kinsey to thank him for enabling her to accept her lesbianism and find happiness. Intended as a moment of cathartic validation, it instead rings profoundly false – a sermon delivered with zero subtlety, feeling entirely manufactured to provide a neat, affirmative bow on a complex legacy. It lacks the organic emotional weight such a moment demands, serving only to underscore the film’s struggle to connect its academic subject matter to visceral human experience.

Perhaps most damningly, Kinsey is suffused with a tone utterly at odds with its subject matter. One might reasonably expect a film about the liberation of human sexuality, even one grounded in scientific inquiry, to possess some vitality, wit, or even joyousness in its exploration of such a fundamentally human and often pleasurable aspect of life. Instead, Condon delivers a film that is relentlessly non-humorous, serious, dour, and clinically detached. Carter Burwell’s score actively reinforces this oppressive atmosphere rather than providing counterpoint or emotional lift. The visual palette is similarly muted and restrained. This clinical approach, while perhaps aiming for objectivity, inadvertently mirrors the very Victorian repression Kinsey sought to dismantle.

In essence, Kinsey is a film that meticulously documents the wha* and how of its subject’s work but remains frustratingly distant from the “why” – the profound human need, the liberation, the messy, vibrant reality of sexuality that Kinsey’s research sought to illuminate. It is a well-acted, technically sound dissertation on a revolutionary figure, but it lacks the dramatic spark, emotional resonance, and tonal appropriateness needed to truly engage with the seismic cultural shift it depicts. It tells us Kinsey changed the world, but it fails to make us feel why that change mattered, or the exhilarating, terrifying human cost and reward involved. For a film about breaking free from prudery, its own presentation remains stubbornly, ironically, buttoned-up.

RATING: 4/10 (+)

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¡Hola amigos de Movies & Tv! Espero que se encuentren muy bien y que tengan una excelente semana ☺️. Quería contarles sobre la experiencia que tuve viendo la famosa serie de HBOMax: The Pitt. Está serie la vio mi hermana y aunque no me llama mucho la atención las series que tienen que ver con medicina o de este estilo, decidí verla porque se veía bastante movida en cuanto a situaciones que van pasando durante la primera temporada, ya próximamente el año que viene saldrá la segunda y estoy emocionada por verla. Así que les contaré un poco sobre mi opinión acerca de la primera temporada de The Pitt.

Hello, Movies & TV friends! I hope you are all doing well and having a great week ☺️. I wanted to tell you about my experience watching the famous HBOMax series: The Pitt. My sister watched this series, and although I'm not usually drawn to series about medicine or similar topics, I decided to watch it because it seemed quite action-packed in terms of the situations that unfold during the first season. The second season will be released next year, and I'm excited to see it. So, I'll tell you a little bit about my opinion of the first season of The Pitt.

La trama sigue la historia del hospital Pitt en Pittsburgh, Estados Unidos donde un grupo de medicos y residentes están trabajando durante todo el día para recuperar a la mayor cantidad de pacientes que llegan constantemente a emergencias. En primer lugar el doctor Robby es el encargado de la parte de emergencias por lo que es el que lleva la batuta sobre los demás médicos, residentes y enfermeras. El tiene bastante tiempo trabajando en este hospital y también tiene una fuerte vocación por la medicina, sobre todo por un querido colega con el que tiene una fuerte conexión y que por distintas razones termina por ser el gran tormento en la vida de Robby. Además los medicos y residentes también forman parte esencial de este grupo de medicos que están por vivir uno de los días más agitados y de mayor estrés de su carrera.

The plot follows the story of Pitt Hospital in Pittsburgh, United States, where a group of doctors and residents are working around the clock to treat as many patients as possible who are constantly arriving at the emergency room. First and foremost, Dr Robby is in charge of the emergency department, so he is the one who leads the other doctors, residents and nurses. He has been working at this hospital for quite some time and also has a strong vocation for medicine, especially because of a beloved colleague with whom he has a strong connection and who, for various reasons, ends up being the great torment in Robby's life. In addition, the doctors and residents are also an essential part of this group of doctors who are about to experience one of the most hectic and stressful days of their careers.

Es increíble que en al menos tres días completos me ví los quince episodios de la primera temporada, siento que fue como ver una serie de medicos pero con mensajes positivos dentro de cada uno de los casos que iban atendiendo. Es un hospital que realmente parece irreal, hay muy buena comunicación entre los medicos y residentes aunque algunos tienen ciertos roces y palabras que pueden venir del mismo momento de tensión al encontrarse con un caso complicado.

It's incredible that in at least three full days I watched all fifteen episodes of the first season. I feel like it was like watching a medical series but with positive messages within each of the cases they were treating. It's a hospital that really seems unreal. There is very good communication between the doctors and residents, although some have certain frictions and words that may come from the very moment of tension when encountering a complicated case.

Los personajes son increíbles, los actores que destacan son: Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch (Noah Wyle), Dr. Heather Collins (Tracy Ifeachor), Enfermera Jefa Dana Evans (Katherine LaNasa), Dr. Samira Mohan (Supriya Ganesh), Dr. Cassie McKay (Fiona Dourif), Dr. Melissa King (Taylor Dearden), Dr. Trinity Santos (Isa Briones), Dr. Dennis Whitaker (Gerran Howell), Dr. Victoria Javadi (Shabana Azeez), Mateo Diaz (Jalen Thomas Brooks), Princess (Kristin Villanueva). Cada uno tiene su propia personalidad y forma de abordar los casos médicos, además de que también tienen sus propios problemas como cualquier ser humano y esto es algo que destaca mucho en la serie, la forma en la que respetan el lado vulnerable de los seres humanos al salvar vidas.

The characters are incredible, with standout performances from: Dr Michael "Robby" Robinavitch (Noah Wyle), Dr Heather Collins (Tracy Ifeachor), Head Nurse Dana Evans (Katherine LaNasa), Dr Samira Mohan (Supriya Ganesh), Dr. Cassie McKay (Fiona Dourif), Dr. Melissa King (Taylor Dearden), Dr. Trinity Santos (Isa Briones), Dr. Dennis Whitaker (Gerran Howell), Dr. Victoria Javadi (Shabana Azeez), Mateo Diaz (Jalen Thomas Brooks), and Princess (Kristin Villanueva). Each has their own personality and approach to medical cases, as well as their own problems like any human being, and this is something that stands out in the series: the way they respect the vulnerable side of human beings while saving lives.

Este drama médico fue bastante galardonado y no es para menos, cuenta con excelentes actuaciones, ambiente y una buena forma de mantener siempre la atención del que lo este mirando. Lo que más me gustó fue que las grabaciones de la primera temporada se dan como un día entero de trabajo y, en cada episodio al comienzo muestran una hora entera del día en el que se encuentren trabajando, puede ser desde las 6 a 7 o de 12 a 1 de la tarde. Esto me pareció muy chévere y también que cada final de los episodios venían luego con la continuación en el siguiente donde había quedado la historia, siento que le dio más realismo al querer mostrar que todo ocurrió en un día de jornada laboral.

This medical drama has won numerous awards, and it's no wonder why. It features excellent performances, atmosphere, and a great way of keeping the viewer's attention throughout. What I liked most was that the recordings of the first season are presented as a whole day's work, and at the beginning of each episode, they show a whole hour of the day they are working, which can be from 6 to 7 or from 12 to 1 in the afternoon. I thought this was very cool, and I also liked that each episode ended with a continuation in the next episode where the story left off. I feel that it added more realism by showing that everything happened in one working day.

Hay casos bastante simples como otros muy serios, dónde los pacientes pueden llegar por una simple intoxicación como también producto de un accidente o de una enfermedad tanto física como mental. En el hospital no solo se enfocan en salvar las vidas de los pacientes sino también en darles el trato humano que se merecen y en verificar que siempre estén completamente sanos para darlos de alta. Además no puede faltar el drama que se agrega a cualquiera historia y en esta serie no fue una excepción, hay dramas entre médicos, dramas entre pacientes y sus propios familiares, dramas dentro de la propia gerencia del hospital y por supuesto un drama aún más profundo con el personaje principal de Robby.

There are some fairly simple cases and others that are very serious, where patients may arrive due to simple poisoning or as a result of an accident or physical or mental illness. The hospital not only focuses on saving patients' lives, but also on treating them with the humanity they deserve and ensuring that they are completely healthy before discharging them. In addition, there is always drama added to any story, and this series was no exception. There is drama between doctors, drama between patients and their own families, drama within the hospital management itself, and of course, even deeper drama with the main character, Robby.

Disfruté mucho esta serie y deseo ya ver la siguiente temporada, no es nada aburrida y no cansa ver tantos términos médicos y procedimientos que aplican para los pacientes, los personajes son dinámicos y cada uno tiene su propia manera de encajar en el hospital aún cuando algunos están comenzando como residentes y esto genera aún mas tensión y dudas entre ellos. En general es una excelente serie si disfrutas de las historias sobre medicina y que tengan un toque de drama con una historia personal de cada personaje que se aborda muy bien y que le agrega más vulnerabilidad como seres humanos a cada uno de los médicos. Espero puedan verla y me cuenten si ya lo hicieron que les pareció 👨🏻‍⚕️🩺

I really enjoyed this series and can't wait to see the next season. It's not boring at all, and it's not tiring to see so many medical terms and procedures applied to patients. The characters are dynamic, and each one has their own way of fitting into the hospital, even though some are just starting out as residents, which creates even more tension and doubts among them. Overall, it's an excellent series if you enjoy stories about medicine with a touch of drama and a personal story for each character that is handled very well and adds more vulnerability as human beings to each of the doctors. I hope you can watch it and let me know what you think if you already have 👨🏻‍⚕️🩺

Trailer Oficial

_{Todo el texto de esta publicación es de mi autoría - All the text in this publication is my own. Los banners y el separador de texto fueron editados con la versión gratuita de Canva y PicsArt - The banners and the text separator were edited with the free version of Canva and PicsArt. La traducción del texto fue realizada con la versión gratuita de Deepl - The translation of the text was made with the free version of Deepl}

(NOTE: Capsule version of the review is available here.)

If in 1996 someone had claimed that the sequel to Mission: Impossible, the major cinematic hit directed by Brian de Palma, would be helmed by legendary Hong Kong director John Woo, many would have greeted the news with approval. Four years later, however, most would be far more cautious, given that Woo’s Hollywood output in the 1990s, to put it mildly, amounts to a string of disappointments (with the exception of Face/Off), and his subsequent reputation sat somewhere on par with Michael Bay, Tony Scott, and other directors from Jerry Bruckheimer’s stable. Mission: Impossible 2 waited nearly three years to enter production—not only because lead actor Tom Cruise was occupied filming Eyes Wide Shut, but also because he sought to transform Mission: Impossible 2 into his personal project, aiming to prove to every studio executive that his mere presence could guarantee a summer blockbuster. By all accounts, he succeeded, judging by the film’s outstanding commercial results—though the $200 million earned in the American market might also be attributed to a relentless marketing campaign, bolstered by constant rotations of Metallica and Limp Bizkit music videos on MTV and similar channels.

The plot kicks off when scientist Dr. Nekhorvich (Rade Šerbedžija), who designed the deadly ‘Chimera’ virus, decides to infect himself with it to test an antidote called ‘Bellerophon’. The plane he’s flying to Atlanta, where he intended to present his findings to American authorities, becomes a target for hijackers who kill him and all passengers, stealing the antidote. The top-secret government agency IMF decides to activate its best agent, Ethan Hunt (Tom Cruise), tasked with retrieving the antidote and preventing a gang led by former IMF agent Sean Ambrose (Dougray Scott) from seizing ‘Chimera’ and using it to blackmail the world. A fortunate coincidence is that Ambrose once had a romantic liaison with expert thief Nyah Nordoff-Hall (Thandie Newton), so IMF bosses believe they can exploit this connection to extract vital information and the ‘Bellerophon’ antidote via Ambrose’s bedroom. Hunt manages to contact Nyah and, after much persuasion, convinces her to accept the mission. The problem is that he himself has meanwhile succumbed to Nyah’s charms, meaning jealousy will render this mission truly impossible.

Mission: Impossible II is one of those films that simply isn’t what it should have been. Firstly, this film was meant to be a cinematic adaptation of the cult 1960s TV series of the same name, yet it completely discards the key elements of all its episodes. The teamwork of IMF agents is discarded in favour of Cruise’s ego, as he prefers playing the lone hero. The intricate plots from the original series are replaced with an idiotically simplistic and highly predictable scenario (Robert Towne himself admits he crafted the entire screenplay around the action sequences previously conceived by John Woo), riddled with illogicalities and implausibilities that fall below even the usual standards for a Hollywood summer blockbuster.

Some critics (including Roger Ebert, ever partial to such Hollywood ventures) have argued that Ethan Hunt, as envisioned by Tom Cruise, could represent a modern replacement for the long-outdated James Bond. Of course, this disaster doesn’t even reach Bond’s ankles, as the Bond formula is applied superficially and inconsistently. We get a couple of exotic locations and a few interesting hi-tech gadgets, but both the Bond-style villain (portrayed by Dougray Scott as an easily forgettable and poorly executed caricature) and the Bond girl (Thandie Newton, known to us from Jefferson in Paris) fall far short of Bond’s standards. To compound matters, Towne, Cruise, and Woo completely discard Bond’s hedonism and amorality, instead subjecting us to an unconvincing and nauseating romantic subplot responsible for some of the most cringe-worthy dialogue heard in recent years.

Woo, on the other hand, injects the film with his customary dose of top-notch choreographed shootouts, along with a couple of car and motorcycle chases—but all of this becomes predictable and tiresome long before the closing credits roll. In short, packed cinemas demonstrate that the marketing campaign for Mission: Impossible II was far more successful than the film itself, granting it an audience it scarcely deserves as a prime example of Hollywood dross.

RATING: 2/10 (-)

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Late Editions (S05E10)

Airdate: March 9th 2008

Written by: David Simon Directed by: Clark Johnson

Running Time: 93 minutes

In the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, HBO became synonymous with the zenith of quality television, particularly within the burgeoning cable landscape. It cultivated a reputation for delivering series that transcended mere entertainment, evolving into culturally resonant touchstones destined to define popular culture for decades. Yet, for all its triumphs, the network’s golden age was punctuated by finales that ignited fierce debate or outright derision: The Sopranos’ abrupt cut to black left audiences reeling in interpretative limbo, while Game of Thrones’ final season was widely condemned as a catastrophic collapse of narrative ambition. Against this backdrop of fractured expectations, The Wire’s series finale, -30-, emerges as a singular, almost miraculous exception. Rarely has a television show’s concluding chapter so impeccably mirrored the profound intelligence, thematic rigour, and unflinching realism that characterised the entire work. David Simon’s script, masterfully directed by Clark Johnson, didn’t merely conclude The Wire; it crystallised its entire thesis about the intractable machinery of urban decay and institutional failure, delivering an ending that felt simultaneously inevitable, devastatingly ironic, and profoundly satisfying – a true rarity in an era where finales so often disappoint.

The episode plunges immediately into the smouldering aftermath of Detective Jimmy McNulty’s audacious, self-destructive gambit: the fabrication of a serial killer targeting Baltimore’s homeless. Confronted by Commissioner Cedric Daniels and State’s Attorney Rhonda Pearlman, McNulty and his co-conspirator Lester Freamon face the grim reality their actions demanded. The Wire operated on a relentless principle: any hard-won progress was invariably followed by two devastating steps backward. The prospect was terrifyingly plausible – two of the department’s most principled, albeit flawed, detectives facing prison for falsifying evidence, their entire careers and the painstaking case against Marlo Stanfield rendered null. Freamon’s crucial wiretap, illegally obtained to circumvent bureaucratic obstruction, would collapse, potentially freeing Marlo and his crew while condemning McNulty and Freamon to become the latest casualties of the system they sought to deal with. The narrative poised itself for a crushing, morally ambiguous downfall, true to the show’s DNA.

Yet, the episode’s genius lies in its deployment of the series’ core theme as the mechanism for resolution. The corruption and inefficiency within Baltimore’s public institutions – the very forces that drove McNulty to his desperate, illegal act – become the unlikely saviours of the men who defied them. Legally and ethically, prosecuting McNulty and Freamon was the only correct course for State’s Attorney Rupert Bond and Deputy Commissioner William Rawls. However, the pragmatic, self-serving calculus of politics swiftly overrides principle. Carcetti’s gubernatorial ambitions hang in the balance; a scandal involving fabricated murders would be catastrophic. Bond and Rawls, representing the DA’s office and the BPD respectively, find unexpected, cynical common ground. They opt for a path that is more subtle, more discreet and, most importantly, less damaging – a course of action prioritising political expediency over justice, yet paradoxically sparing the detectives.

McNulty, ever the serendipitous detective, stumbles into a stroke of profound irony. While investigating his own hoax, he uncovers a real serial killer preying on the homeless – a mentally ill copycat whose genuine crimes inadvertently validate McNulty’s fiction. McNulty’s detective instincts shine; he swiftly identifies and secures a confession for two murders, with the remaining killings from his charade conveniently attributed to the unstable perpetrator. The likelihood of a trial meticulously dissecting the hoax’s origins evaporates. What threatened to be a career-ending scandal for the Baltimore Police Department (BPD) and Carcetti’s political future is miraculously transmuted into another "triumph," a narrative of police efficacy meticulously packaged for public consumption.

Simultaneously, Lester Freamon’s dogged pursuit of the corrupt nexus between the courts and the drug trade yields its own unexpected windfall. His investigation leads him to Gary D’Pasquale, a court official (played by real-life BPD veteran Gary D’Addario, the inspiration for Homicide: Life on the Street’s Giardello) crippled by gambling debts. D’Pasquale, compromised by Maury Levy’s legal machinery, readily provides evidence of Levy leaking confidential information to protect his drug-dealing clients. Freamon delivers this evidence to Pearlman, who wields it as leverage for a morally complex compromise. This is the show’s ultimate statement: justice in Baltimore is rarely pure; it is a transaction, a pragmatic bargain struck within the system’s dirty confines.

Pearlman confronts Levy, who knows full well Freamon’s wiretap is illegal and Marlo’s case is legally unsound. Presented with the evidence of his own corruption, Levy, ever the calculating pragmatist, recognises the futility of a trial. He brokers a deal designed for quiet closure: Chris Partlow faces life without parole for murders; Marlo’s lieutenants receive lengthy sentences for drug trafficking. Crucially, Marlo himself walks, albeit forced to abandon his empire and sell his stash to underlings like Cheese. His acceptance is chillingly pragmatic – the street life offers no retirement plan, and legitimacy, however hollow, is a viable exit strategy. The simmering tensions within Marlo’s organisation erupt immediately; Cheese’s betrayal of Proposition Joe leads to his execution by Slim Charles, enforcing a brutal street code. This killing, while not the final violent act, marks the true narrative terminus – the end of the central drug war plotline.

Some trajectories lead towards fragile redemption. Freamon retires to a quiet life with Shardene. McNulty, after a symbolic wake accompanied by The Pogues’ "Body of an American," reconciles with Beadie Russell and finds a semblance of peace outside the force. Carver ascends to Lieutenant, Herc lands a lucrative job with the now-legendary Maurice Levy (a darkly comic testament to the lawyer’s survival skills), and Leander Sydnor steps into McNulty’s role as Judge Phelan’s detective. Pearlman becomes a judge; Carcetti achieves his gubernatorial dream, taking Rawls as head of the State Police; even Stan Valchek secures his improbable commissioner’s chair. Bubbles receives a moving Baltimore Sun profile, facilitating reconciliation with his sister. Yet, these "happy" endings are invariably tempered. They are achieved despite the system, not because of it. Daniels’ principled refusal to "juke the stats" for Carcetti’s campaign – the final act of institutional integrity – costs him his career, forcing him to become defence lawyer to avoid compromising material held by Nareese Gibson. Gus Haynes watches helplessly as the talented Alma Gutierrez is demoted, while the mendacious Scott Templeton secures a Pulitzer Prize. The system rewards the wrong people, as always.

The finale’s closing montage is its most potent, devastating stroke. It lays bare the cyclical, depressive inertia of Baltimore. Marlo, the ruthless kingpin turned legitimate businessman (fulfilling Stringer Bell’s unrealised dream), finds himself utterly alienated at a posh party, seeking validation on street corners where his name now signifies nothing – a hollow shell adrift in the very world he sought to escape. Dukie, abandoned and heroin-addled, living with the arabers, becomes the new Bubbles, inheriting the cycle of addiction and marginalisation. Michael Lee, burdened by trauma and responsibility, turns to armed robbery, embodying a new, more hardened Omar Little. The city consumes its children, generation after generation; the faces change, the roles remain depressingly constant.

The final scene offers a glimmer of human connection amidst the systemic despair. McNulty travels to Richmond to retrieve the homeless man Larry – the unwitting pawn in his hoax – bringing him "home" to Baltimore. It’s a small, personal act of restitution, a quiet counterpoint to the vast, uncaring machinery of institutions. This understated moment, devoid of grandiosity, resonates with profound power. It underscores that while the city may be broken beyond repair, individual humanity persists. -30- (the journalistic symbol for "the end") earns its place as one of the most powerful and effective series finales in twenty-first-century television precisely because it refuses easy answers or false hope. It honours the show’s unwavering commitment to truth.

Naturally, criticism exists. Some argue Simon prolonged the farewell beyond necessity, that Johnson’s direction occasionally veers into overly "artsy" territory, and that scenes like Cheese’s demise feel like gratifying fan service. The Baltimore Sun storyline, while thematically vital, arguably lacks the raw emotional punch of the police or drug war narratives for some viewers.

Yet, nearly two decades on, -30- and The Wire as a whole retain astonishing potency. When it aired, the world it depicted still revolved around print newspapers, analogue payphones, and mechanical typewriters – relics swiftly rendered obsolete by the digital tsunami of the next six years. Yet, the core pathologies it dissected – systemic racism, institutional inertia, political corruption, the war on drugs, the erosion of labour and community – remain not just relevant, but increasingly acute. The Wire found unexpected new life as an internet meme factory and, more significantly, as a foundational text in modern American debates about urban policy and social justice. Its timelessness, however, stems from something deeper: its unflinching, compassionate, and utterly unsentimental portrayal of how systems shape, constrain, and often destroy human lives. -30- doesn’t just end a television series; it delivers the final, resonant note in a five-season symphony of American urban realism, a note that continues to echo with chilling, undeniable clarity. It stands as a monument to what television, at its absolute finest, can achieve.

RATING: 8/10 (+++)

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Shades of Gray (S02E22)

Airdate: July 17th 1989

Written by: Michael Hurley, Richard Manning & Hans Beimler Directed by: Rob Bowman

Running Time: 45 minutes

While the second season of Star Trek: The Next Generation is rightly heralded as the pivotal moment where the series decisively shed the lingering shadow of The Original Series, forging its own sophisticated path towards what many consider the Golden Age of Star Trek, this undeniable trajectory of improvement cannot be extended to its concluding instalment. Ironic indeed that the season finale, "Shades of Gray," stands not as a triumphant culmination but as a profound nadir, frequently cited not merely as the weakest entry in The Next Generation's seven-year run, but occasionally holding the dubious distinction of being the single worst episode across the entire sprawling Star Trek franchise.

The episode commences with the USS Enterprise-D in orbit of the unexplored planet Surata IV. An away team comprising Commander William Riker and Chief Engineer Geordi La Forge is dispatched to investigate. During their mission, Riker suffers what appears to be a sting from an unknown plant organism. As he requests transport back to the ship, Chief O'Brien’s biofilter raises a critical alert: Riker is compromised by an unknown and potentially hazardous microorganism. Compounding the tension, Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Katherine Pulaski – who harbours a pronounced fear of transporter technology – is compelled to beam down to the planet's surface to administer immediate treatment. Recognising the severity of Riker’s condition, Pulaski makes the difficult decision to transport him back to Enterprise sickbay, a move necessitated by the microorganism’s aggressive nature.

Once aboard, the true horror unfolds. The microorganism is revealed to be systematically attacking Riker’s nervous system, its insidious progress towards his brainstem threatening death within mere hours. His condition deteriorates rapidly, culminating in a coma. Dr. Pulaski discovers the microorganism exhibits a peculiar reactivity to endorphins. This leads to the episode’s centra conceit: Counsellor Deanna Troi utilises her empathic abilities to forcibly induce specific emotional states within the comatose Riker by triggering targeted memories. Crucially, attempts to evoke positive recollections prove ineffective; it is only the deliberate excavation of Riker’s most painful and traumatic past experiences that generates the necessary endorphin surge, ultimately enabling his body to combat the infection and awaken.

On a fundamental level, the core plot – a crewmember infected by an alien pathogen requiring unconventional treatment – is undeniably generic science fiction fodder, possessing little originality. Yet, with thoughtful execution, it could have served as a compelling framework for character exploration or ethical dilemmas. Instead, the script by Maurice Hurley, Richard Manning, and Hans Beimler treats this premise with utter contempt, reducing it to nothing more than the flimsiest possible pretext for an excessive reliance on flashback sequences. These clips, shamelessly recycled from previous Season 1 and Season 2 episodes featuring Riker, are the episode’s defining characteristic, cementing its infamous reputation as The Next Generation’s sole clip show and the primary source of its critical derision.

It must be acknowledged that the clip show format itself, while often maligned by modern audiences accustomed to streaming archives, possessed legitimate utility in the pre-VCR, pre-streaming era of network television. For long-running series, such episodes offered viewers a convenient, low-cost recapitulation of past events, serving as narrative touchstones. Even in later decades, well-crafted clip shows could offer fresh perspectives, thematic resonance, or character insights by reframing past events within a new context. The critical failure of Shades of Gray lies in complete absence of any such redeeming narrative or thematic purpose.

The sole, unedifying reason for Shades of Gray’s existence was a stark financial reality. Paramount Pictures, having reportedly overspent on ambitious preceding Season 2 episodes like Elementary, Dear Data and Q Who, allocated a shockingly meagre budget for the finale – reportedly sufficient for only three days of principal photography. Faced with this draconian constraint, even a director of Rob Bowman’s considerable talent was rendered impotent. The decision to construct the episode almost entirely from archive footage was not a creative choice, but a desperate, cost-cutting necessity. This context explains the episode’s genesis but utterly fails to excuse its artistic bankruptcy.

While Dr. Pulaski performs her duties with professional competence, her character’s functionality within the thin plot does little to mask the overwhelming impression of shoddy, expedient workmanship. The selection of flashback sequences is profoundly problematic: they appear utterly random, chosen seemingly based on availability rather than any logical connection to Riker’s current trauma or Pulaski’s endorphin theory. Worse still, every single memory presented originates from Riker’s service aboard the Enterprise-D itself. This glaring omission – the complete absence of formative experiences from his Academy days, his time on the Potemkin, or his relationship with Deanna on Betazed – catastrophically undermines suspension of disbelief. It renders the entire therapeutic premise nonsensical and brutally reminds viewers they are watching a cynical, ultra-generic 1980s television product manufactured under duress, not a considered piece of science fiction drama.

The consensus among those involved speaks volumes. Producer Maurice Hurley himself later described the episode as embarrassing, a sentiment echoed by much of the production team. For the vast majority of discerning Star Trek fans, the desire to excise Shades of Gray from the canon is a rational response to its abject failure on almost every level – narrative, thematic, and technical. It lacks the grace of a functional clip show, the intrigue of a medical mystery, or the character depth expected of The Next Generation at its best. Instead, it stands as a stark, unavoidable blemish on Season 2’s otherwise impressive ascent, a painful reminder that even the most promising voyages can founder on the rocks of studio parsimony and creative surrender.

RATING: 2/10 (-)

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Hello everyone,

Over the weekend, I decided to watch another comedy movie on Prime Video to lighten the mood of the seriousness that comes with life. Coming from my last comedy movie, which was The Couple Retreat, I decided it wouldn't be all bad to try something new, especially with Kevin Hart in it. So I went for Soul Plane.

The movie, which is quite funny from the get-go, starts with Kevin Hart as Nashawn Wade, who goes through an unpleasant flight experience while traveling with an airline. The experience was quite funny because of the things that happened in the toilet for Kevin. I would not give too many details in case of those of you who decide to watch the movie after this review.

What a way to relax.

Go check it out.

♟♟♟♟♟♟♟♟♟

Posted Using INLEO

There are some movies that you wait for with silent hope, while at the same time fearing the inevitable disappointment that often comes with the revival of a classic franchise. When i walked into the theater for Predator Badlands, expectations were not just high, but enormous, etched in the nostalgic memory of the 1987 original. What unfolded on screen, however, was more than a simple sequel: it was a courageous redefinition, an odyssey that not only met those monumental expectations, but also exceeded them in spectacular fashion.

One of the most impressive aspects is the way in which the main character becomes a lethal outcast. He is not a simple tool to kill; he is a being with a history, a violated honor and a path that he must forge for himself. From the very first sequences, we are introduced to Yautja culture from an internal perspective, understanding the strict rules of hunting and the consequences of his exile. This narrative treatment, which keeps Dek in the foreground not only when the blade is about to strike, allows us to become emotionally attached to this deadly hunter. We follow Dek not as a monster, but as an outcast, a young warrior learning what it means to survive beyond the strict rules of his clan.

But perhaps the element that throws you the deepest into the abyss of fascination is the planet Badlands itself. This realm of exile is not a simple inert backdrop, but a visual fever and a race with bio-hazardous obstacles. The valley, the world of creatures there... you never know where the writers and design team could have gotten their inspiration! The bestiary is truly original, defying any form of alien life seen before. From tiny but lethal predators that camouflage themselves in the toxic landscape, to biomechanical giants that seem torn from gothic nightmares, each encounter is a lesson in survival. https://youtube.com/shorts/0pho3rxPFKk?si=td-v-cPIdm7QrU7y It's a captivating experience to watch how Dek must adapt his hunting techniques to this hostile and unexpected environment. And the weapons! The arsenal presented, both the improved Yautja and that of the local fauna, is cleverly designed. Each piece of equipment plays a crucial role in the narrative, bringing a fresh and highly engaging twist to the sci-fi universe. There’s a sense of massive investment not just in the main story, but also in creating a toxic, stunning ecosystem perfectly tailored to test the limits of an exiled Predator.

The technical execution is impeccable. Predator Badlands is filled with rare visual effects that aren’t just used for free show, but serve to build a believable and dangerous world. The intensity of every sound, from the click of the plasmacaster to the eerie sound of camouflage, transforms viewing into a multisensory experience.

What sets this film apart from many other remakes is that it’s not too cliched. The creative team has managed to avoid well-worn narrative traps, offering surprising plot twists and an action that flows naturally without feeling forced or exaggerated. You can feel the work put into every frame, demonstrating a genuine respect for the source material but also a burning desire for innovation. It's clear proof that when passion and intelligence are invested in the script, a franchise can be reborn stronger and more relevant than ever.

The ending doesn't just close a chapter, it opens the door wide to a much-needed sequel. The stakes are high, and the search for the ultimate adversary only now seems to truly begin, with Dek and Thia heading towards the horizon. The signs are clear: Dek and Thia's world, as well as the complex politics of Weyland-Yutani, are set to fuel at least one more film, if not an entire trilogy. I am absolutely convinced that this wonderful franchise will not stop here, and Badlands is the solid foundation on which to build an extraordinary narrative future.

If you are looking for an experience that will take you out of your daily routine and offer you an unforgettable visual and narrative spectacle, go see it in the cinema. It's a special experience, an ode to innovation, and a huge step forward for the Predator universe.

Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus is not merely a gothic tale or a philosophical allegory. It is a work born from the grief of a nineteen-year-old woman who had lost her child and, through unbearable pain, imagined what it would mean to bring the dead back to life. I believe this story remains alive within us precisely because it touches those raw nerves of horror and sorrow—it confronts dangerous knowledge, creation, loneliness and isolation, power and responsibility, our relationship with nature, and the moral accountability of both the individual and society.

With that historical and biographical lens in mind, here’s my first observation: I found the film excessively stylized—at times more like a music video than a gothic thriller. It feels as though the dark grandeur of Shelley’s vision was sacrificed on the altar of digital excess. Personally, I think CGI should work invisibly, supporting practical effects just enough to make them believable, not drawing attention to itself. Instead of feeling as though I were in a dim room lit by flickering candles, surrounded by death and dread, I felt like I was watching a video-game cutscene.

I’ll go on with my complaints: the omission of Clerval—the moral voice of Victor in the novel—was disappointing, replaced instead by overused voice-over exposition. The characters of William and Elizabeth are diluted; he’s practically a prop, and she feels like a shadow of her written counterpart. And while I adore Christoph Waltz, his added character (not in the book) further weakens the story’s spine.

Another unjustified change is the removal of the scene where the creature saves a drowning girl only to be shot by her father—a defining moment that exposes him to human cruelty. That moral ambiguity runs through the entire novel. Shelley, daughter and wife of atheists, wrote about the void left by a silent God. The Romantics were living in an era when divinity was being dismantled into physics and laws of nature, and atheism was becoming almost mainstream. Yet existential anguish intensified: God might not exist, but the pain of His absence is real. That’s why this adaptation feels soulless—it commits the very sin the novel condemns. Shelley’s message is that we are the gods who create and destroy. By erasing that ambiguity, the maternal grief, and the awe of creation, the film cuts itself off from the work’s heart.

For coherence, then, the film should have shown Victor abandoning his creation—as in the novel—instead of chaining it like an abusive father. In the original, he turns away in horror from his own act. That rejection is crucial: it makes the creature’s awakening existential and contrasts sharply with Victor’s privileged upbringing, making his deed even more blasphemous. The film’s “birth” scene—with its chains and brutality—leans toward melodrama rather than philosophical terror.

Shelley’s masterpiece endures because she refused to give us just one monster. Victor, his creation, and society itself form a cycle of guilt and despair. In this film, however, the creature is too “good,” his violence overly justified, and the moral tension simplified. Gone is the question—does evil arise or is it made? When he kills Elizabeth, it isn’t cosmic vengeance against divine silence but merely a predictable act of self-defense. Instead of moral allegory, we get a plain hero-versus-villain arc.

I was also (very) disappointed by the attempt to give the creature depth through Ozymandias—a poem by Shelley’s husband, Percy—and by the fact that the film ends with a line by Lord Byron. So the final word, once again, belongs to a man. Apparently, the woman who gave birth to the myth of modern masculine arrogance still needed male validation.

And so I was left with a sense of emptiness. For me, the film doesn’t aim to provoke thought or emotion—it just wants to dazzle visually. But Shelley’s story asks to be seen through its contradictions, through human frailty. Here, everything becomes easier, cleaner—and with that, the tension that makes the novel so haunting and so painfully human is lost.