About Milan Matejka

Milan Matejka is a man. A man with opinions. And feelings. Using @milanmatejka will certainly allow you to get a hold of him on twitter.

Zero Dark Thirty (d. Bigalow, 2012)

Posted on 2013/18/Feb by Milan Matejka

Investigative cinema is not a new aspect to cinema. From the inception of the medium, film started with documentaries detailing daily life, progressing into filming events and then being the events themselves. As an extension of this, now we have docu-fictions and dramas like Bloody Sunday, which recounts the violence events of that titular day in 1972 Derry, Northern Ireland, to All The President’s Men, an exploration of obsession into discovering who was involved in the Watergate break-in. We have faced many films that picking up pieces from news stories long since forgotten and reviving them. Zero Dark Thirty joins this pantheon, though playing around with more recent history than others, as it chronicles the attempts of one CIA agent, Maya (Jessica Chastain), as she progresses through nearly ten years, encountering a vast array of intelligence workers and terrorist suspects, to hunt down a single man: Osama Bin Laden (UBL).

From the get-go, the film has strengths coupled with weaknesses. Many people have gone in depth about its depictions of torture, however by talking about its (significant) implications, it is only a minor part of the film. To address the effect of the sequences would have a mockingbird effect, as the film leaves itself to interpretation if torture was responsible for the eventual raid, or it does not, or even just questions torture outright. While it is not very clear, and probably intended to be opaque, the sequences begin to tell us about this world is that it is not a breezy thriller, nor it is it fun.

Instead of trying to just be slick entertainment, the film’s visual immediacy, cutting right down to the point makes the film punchy at times (amid an overextended runtime), using the combination of cinematography and editing, while not as accomplished as Kathlyn Bigalow’s Oscar-Winner The Hurt Locker, has a visceral effect that stays with you throughout the film. The film’s final third, which would be a spoiler if you do not watch the news, with its intent and focus on the compound raid was thrilling and exciting, using realism as the best asset for suspense and tension as what a group of marines discover.

However, outside of the sequence, as a whole, the film’s harsh, clinical tone struggles to sustain its investigative edge, becoming somewhat narratively flippant at times, as it haphazardly tries to compensate with cliché arcs in fear that it would bore the audience. Sabotaging its oblique matter-of-fact nature, the film seems to have lost something in between the ellipsis of narrative years, not just in narrative intensity, but also allowing development of a fully-realised character arc.

Surrounded by an ensemble of great performances (particularly Mark Strong and Reda Kateb), Jessica Chastain’s character acts as the audience surrogate, learning the ways of the Pakistan sub-station, working within the embassy, and as consequence her character suffers the most out of this struggle, as much as Chastain gives this character more power than needed. Starting off as an innocent, she slowly becomes desensitised from the world of morality, as the hunt for UBL becomes her sole passion. The film’s strengths are in the procedural aspect, as she navigates through the ways that surveillance is accomplished and how she proves how much of ‘a cold-hard killer’ she is within the constructs of the agency, as the system is laid bear in a way that offers interpretation and openness. The frankness of the narrative, as it addresses the changing tides over ten years, from Bush to Obama, is seen to be mere dressing to the purity of the mission, even if it left many dirty hands in the progress, as it does not matter who is in charge of the country, but who is controlling the mission.

On the other side of the coin that undermines this is her character desensitisation is truly at the expense of great characterisation. Mark Boal unsuccessfully juggles with her character amid overbearing narrative illogic, making a Nation’s Revenge into a highly false personal one for Maya, all the while still trying to make her seem professional in this mysterious world. Chastain’s performance suffers as a result, as her character’s emotional through-lines that are messily put in just complement her one-note purpose than actually adding dimension, ironically making her hard to understand (not saying that she should be relatable however). Male co-workers and her bosses treat her as if she is an aggressively pushy teenager rather than respected colleague. She is merely just presented as the typical lone wolf standing against the system, a card that has been played out too many times in many other films, and if she encounters opposition from anyone, she counters with a passive-aggressive marker pen or a snide insult/full-blown-rant.

This film’s reliance on ambiguity is noble, as it does make for an interesting film, with effective direction and some great performances. However, it also treats it like it is means the story has a lot of depth, leading the film into an internal struggle: is this film about a compelling lead character that we can connect to emotionally in spite of plot convenience, or an investigative thriller where the facts unravel in conversation? The film struggles to understand what it wants to be to the audience, feeling wholly lopsided as a result, as the fact-based story struggles to find a fictional structure to present itself in between hackneyed subtext.

(Note: I did read Mike D’Angelo’s article ‘Zero Dark Thirty’s lone-wolf protagonist makes it more conventional than it seems‘. While my thoughts are my own, I am interested in full disclosure as it is an influence.)

Life of Pi (d. Lee, 2012)

Posted on 2013/15/Feb by Milan Matejka

Last year, The Grey, explored the ideas of belief, life, death and the will to survive, when Liam Neeson tries to lead a group of men through horrifically icy weather to safety, while desperately defending themselves from a pack of ravenous wolves. Life of Pi proceeds to attempt to do the same, instead being told as a fantastical tale of survival between teenage Indian Pi (Suraj Sharma) and a Bengal Tiger called Richard Parker (a revolving streak of Tigers and CGI), as they travel on a lifeboat through the pacific ocean after the capsizing of their shipping vessel, the Tsimtsum.

It is very telling what type of film you are encountering when it highlights significant aspects of the plot with uses of names. For example, Tzimtzum (changed into Tsimtsum in the film) is a Kabbalistic term for God’s withdrawal from an area so that creation may take place. The film consequently shows this literally happening as the ship sinks into the ocean, Pi’s journey begins. Even Pi’s name is significant, as while it is a never-ending mathematical term for a ratio of a circle, it also expresses a never-ending and personal search into spiritual discovery that Pi goes through. With symbolism either this is going to deepen a well-developed story with characters and goals, like The Grey, or it is your story, no matter how hollow it is. With this film, sadly, its the latter. By using buzzwords to signify a religious dimension, it does not attempt to present the mystery of religion properly without its heavy-handedness coming across, let alone it successfully presenting various points of view.

Falling flat on its face in the first act, it is just a petri dish of watered-down pluralism when it combines aspects of Christianity, Islam and Hinduism, without any definition or enlightenment. Coupled with ineffective emotional beats, Ang Lee’s film does not express a true understanding of what it means to have faith and face life’s challenges, but rather for the audience, a self-important dime-store spiritual experience. Focusing heavily on this idea of spiritual significance, it does not even try to effectively give its characters backing in the real world, as its theme flounders when Pi’s origin story depicts his family as walking clichés, struggling to keep our attention. A shallow depth of meaning means that the film forgets that a spiritual journey has to be supported by a character’s natural journey as well. It tries to make up for this by using overbearing voice-over, and comically bad dialogue, ever weakening the greatness the film could have accomplished.

pi2

The film’s second act proves that the film works best when it engages with its central conflict in Act Two: Man versus Tiger; Civilisation versus Nature. While the film fears confronting any idea of absurdist randomness or harsh logic that can produce doubt in faith (it does admittedly give it a brief mention), the mastery of the CGI is used to bring Richard Parker to life, as well as environmental factors such as storms, means that a powerful second act can form. For a story that tries to capture the mystic, the true magic of the film is in the duality between the carnal and the spiritual, allowing a natural tension between Pi and Richard Parker to create a gripping story that enhances what it aims to do. However, this only works as long as Ang Lee felt it was necessary, before he felt he had to shoehorn ‘MEANING’ into the plot at key points, leaving you feeling patronized. For example, when Pi cries over killing a fish, we find this moment more unintentionally funny than harrowing, and while we understand the meaning, without effective characterisation it just become mind-numbing simplistic.

The film’s premise is set up and concluded with an Older Pi (Irrfan Khan) telling his tale to Rafe Spall’s writer, trying to give the story meaning by provoking a question: Can this make me believe in God? For a film that is as uneven as this, this is its death blow, as when the question is finally answered, the story faces a twist of M. Night Shyamalan proportions that undermines everything that comes before it. When the reveal happens, it fully exposes its lack of poignancy wide open, making the film fall apart. By pretending that it had any character development to justify this reveal, it goes straight into crass, dishonest histrionics of the likes not seen since Marley and Me. It pretends it was the point all along, when in reality, you realise how much it truly meant nothing when it was sprouting pseudo-philosophical statements in between gorgeous cinematography.

Not helped by false emotionalism, lip-service spiritual ecumenism, and its leadened first act (the love interest was so distinctly pointless, it seemed that she was just a gateway to enlightenment than an actual human being), the film only coasts along with the second act’s entertainment value and the relationship between Pi and Richard Parker. Ang Lee undermines its beauty and power bookending the film with a sub-par religious studies lesson that lacks nuance. Not even the flimsy argument of it being a fairy tale could bluster this up for allegorical discussion. Fairy tales wants to tell you truths that you can discover after you have heard it, or at least question your reality. Life of Pi has the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, so no matter how pretty it is, you should never say how important your story is when you are telling it.

ADDENDUM: I saw this in 3D. It was very playful and highly recommended if you see this film. Playing around with its aspect ratios, the cinematography and the action becomes a visual extravaganza and take your breath away. The island full of meerkats, the boat sinking sequence and the sequence in which the flying fish collide into the boat are definitely visual highlights of the year. Now if only the plot and dialogue could have matched up to this.

Seven Psychopaths (d. McDonagh, 2012)

Posted on 2013/12/Feb by Milan Matejka

The film begins with two nameless hitmen, waiting to commit a hit on a mob boss’ unfaithful mistress. As they are talking, we notice the familiar beat to the sequence that we have seen in other crime films before: chatty, Tarantino-esque characters, with hipper than thou attitudes. As soon as they appear, they are assassinated themselves, by Psychopath #1, Jack O’Diamonds killer, who is a serial killer of mob characters who throws a Jack of Diamonds card for each body as his calling card, wearing a red balaclava. By rendering these two pointless and thereby the opening pointless, it establishes that it doesn’t want to play the same game as previous crime films, making it all the more meaningful.

Seven Psychopaths follows Marty (Colin Farrell), Irish alcoholic scriptwriter, who has a title but no clue of what the story is about. His best friend, Billy (Sam Rockwell), a struggling actor, tries to break his writer’s block by trying to get psychopaths to meet him, while trying to convince Marty he can be his co-writer. Meanwhile, he is also running a dog-kidnapping business with Hans (Christopher Walken), accidentally setting off a chain of events in which Charlie (Woody Harrelson), a psychopathic gangster (but of course), wants his Shih Tzu back by any means necessary, bringing destruction and mayhem into Marty’s life.

The film revolves around the mechanics of story-telling, and the inherent subjective gambit it presents to the audience. Much of the film involves Marty trying to write the screenplay, simultaneously trying to make it meaningful while entertaining. As he is constructing his narrative, the film does the same thing, as the film has an ADD nature, with sub-plots and characters brought in and dropped out, and it is sheer blessing that Martin McDonagh, who wrote and directed his oscar-nominated début In Bruges, has the skill necessary to deftly guide the film away from falling off a cliff. To say that the film is just a rehash of themes from Adaptation or Kiss Kiss Bang Bang is one way of looking at it, but a bit reductionist. As a film, it is a writer’s meta-journey, as ideas and concepts are fleshed out and brought to life, such as the lunacy of his cohorts represent different aspects of the audience and how they want to be satified. The act of storytelling is literally brought to life, rather than having a character aware he is in a film or making it very explicit.

Each of the psychopaths have a differing idea of what their story, or Marty’s story, truly is, or should be, juggling with these concepts. Christopher Walken, in stark contrast to many films he has starred in, is a loveable, quiet, religious crook who doesn’t believe in violence, while Sam Rockwell, who steals the film from an inspired set of actors, is a live-wire sort of obsessive compulsive One wants an uplifting ending, the other wants a cliché gun-crossbow-toting shoot-out in a graveyard finalé, influencing the plot to their goals to the bewildered straight man Colin Farrell, superbly contrasting to near-career bests that they bring. With the other characters, psychopaths and the occasional normal person, it affects Marty’s writing, as well as influence the plot in each of their ways, not simply to be just meta, but using it to comically, sometimes poetically enhance the act of storytelling and even enhance what the audience brings to the film when watching it.

Sam Rockwell

This would all be academic exercise in annoying the audience if it weren’t for the biting, dark humour that pervades almost every sequence, such as the tale Tom Waits, who is a serial killer serial killer, describes. His story is not just a tale of psychopathic slayings, it also can be an origin story to his obsession with keeping a rabbit as a pet, where multiple rabbits litter a crime scene, or it can be a blood-soaked failed love story, with Waits searching for forgiveness. For those who do not see through the pitch black, it has witty one-liners as well as hidden lyrical puns that permeate McDonagh’s screenplay, punctuated with great performances that are justified by the quality of the dialogue and screenplay, such as the films playing around with stereotype, Harrelson’s emotional outbursts in relation to his dog’s safety, contrasting his violent behaviour, and the outrageous alternative ending to Marty’s screenplay created by Billy’s overexcited imagination that rivals the dreamatorium in Community.

In some ways, the film implying that the audience’s acceptance of the violence in Hollywood films, in view of the list of psychopaths, can be described somewhat psychopathic, as the film shows violence to be a very real thing unlike its glamorising contemporaries. In key moments, Woody Harrelson, who straddles the line of comic/threatening in his performance as much as everyone else, reflects the simplistic vision of Hollywood’s logical/illogical (you be the judge) goal of keeping a dog alive, as the life of a dog is seen in Hollywood lore to be more sacred than men and especially women, a point that the film itself makes in an irrelevant aside. If there is one major weakness in the film, that aside from Walken’s ailing wife (Linda Bright Clay) who makes an indelible impact on the story, there is very little development for other female characters, to the point that Abbie Cornish and Olga Kurylenko characters are just glorified cameos.

What you get out of the film depends on what you come in with, whether it be just a fun caper film, a far deeper analogue of meta-cinema and the use of perspective, or just ultra-violent nonsense. It can be a farce that transcends convention while adhering to it, a bloody malevolent crime film coupled with humorous relief, or even a film about Hollywood without Hollywood, while being about Hollywood. What is it is an intelligent film that is hilarious, heartfelt search for meaning, and trying to find truth within an onslaught of irrelevance, violence and stupid clichés.

My Top Films of 2012 (UK Release Schedule)

Posted on 2013/12/Feb by Milan Matejka

I am not going to say what this year in film has been about, because for all I know this year could have been about anything. One theme that keeps on popping up is legacy, as the memories that we leave behind for families, friends or in some cases, entire communities, expressed in smaller art-house films (Monsieur Lazhar, Searching for Sugar Man), to big blockbusters (Skyfall, The Dark Knight Rises). There is also a contingent that want to question how we can function within truth and lies in a society that is entirely grey, full of agendas (A Royal Affair), how lies seek to destroy what little peace there was left (Blackthorn), and how sometimes it can be truly be lost, even what is truly real (Martha Marcy May Marlene). Or you just annihilate both in hope it will turn white, by way of red (Dredd). In the end, what I have written could be a great summary, but that could be ignoring many other films.

Speaking about ignoring other films, I will have to note that I have sadly missed seeing The Master, Amour, The Hunt, Rust and Bone, Ruby Sparks, Shame, Barbara, Holy Motors, Barbarian Sound Studio, and countless many more.

Honourable Mentions:

Casa De Mi Padre (d. Matt Piedmont, 2012) – A parodic homage to Mexican cinema, this loony comedy decides to branch out into interesting readings (amid clichés) of family, American/Mexican relations, and the way cinema works. Complementary film to Grindhouse and Black Dynamite.

The Descendents (d. Alexander Payne, 2011) – Though not as strong as his other work, this film’s breezy nature, Hawiian soundtrack, and George Clooney’s subtle performance, allows its harder truths sink in further as it goes along, showing the restoration of a family after a prolonged emotional breakdown.

Headhunters (d. Tyldum, 2011) - Portraying itself as a distinctively bland thriller in the poster campaigns, this film is a tour-de-force of black comedy, tending deep into outright silliness. A spirited examination into corporate culture and masculinity.

Even The Rain (d. Bollain, 2010) – Following the events of 2000 Cochabamba protests, this fictional tale is an indictment of exploitation in South America, the effects of globalisation, the metaphorical and literal use of water. This film also explores the moral quandaries, giving a film characterisation far beyond just preaching, following a film crew, filming a not so dissimilar story about 1600s conquistadors nearby.

ow, the list:

10.) Safety Not Guaranteed (d.Trevorrow, 2012)

Usually, romantic comedies of this nature annoy. With an unusual premise (time traveller seeks companion, gets one out of an intern at a magazine), it would have been woefully precious. However, with the seemingly effortless acting by Mark Duplass and Aubrey Plaza, this gentle science fiction film’s brevity (though nearly derailed by a cliché sub-plot between a former-beau and her journalist superior), the film gives true emotion out of two broken people, both looking to correct themselves as they train genuine affection. The film’s funniest conclusions are played out with well-phrased witty barbs, but with enough naturalism that it feels organic rather than situational.

9.) This Must Be The Place (d. Sorrentino, 2011)

A shaggy-dog of a film, the film decides to combine three, very separate films together underneath a powerhouse performance by Sean Penn, as a down-and-out Robert Smith-alike called Cheyenne (his name based on Siouxsie and the Banshees) The first film shows him living in Dublin as a tax-exile, living among the locals and visiting Tesco Supermarket to get a frozen pizza, confusing boredom and depression. The film proceeds to also fit in a revenge film against a Nazi persecutor of Cheyenne’s dad, to connect to a man that hated him, and a road-trip movie not unlike Paris, Texas, encountering David Byrne along the way and plays Ping Pong. The film is unwieldy and is sometimes tonally uneven, but with an emotional through-line this ambitious coming-of-age story of a 50-year-old teenager, the film’s heart is in the right place through, with large quantities of humour and pathos, as well as a killer soundtrack.

8.) The Turin Horse (d. Tarr, 2011)

This film is not for everyone, nor a Sunday afternoon family film, not by a long shot. This is a film that literally requires your attention throughout, as Béla Tarr’s last film is portraying a different type of apocalypse. A brutal and punishing two and a half hours, most of it is spent on repetitive tasks of a late 18th century Call Man and his daughter, living on a farm with their horse, eating only boiled potatoes. The only context we have of their lives before this point, is a fable which Nietzsche’s insanity is caused by a beating of a horse. When the horse stops working due to melancholy, the next six days, in which the well dries up, they cannot cook, and even light disappears, we see what can only be described as pitch-black evil, as life is literally being sucked out of these two. Life without art? The world’s evil over-pouring out of a full cup? We cannot be sure what this all means, but it is captivating, and hypnotic to watch with some of the greatest black and white photography ever committed to film.

7.) Seven Psychopaths (d. McDonagh, 2012)

Compared to Adaptation, the film does not aim to have a cohesive whole or designed to be an examination of a particular character. Rather, it is about the act of storytelling, that its unwieldy nature comes from the sparks of different stories messily collapsing into each other. By aiming directly at the audience, the film decides to blind-side different audiences, as each character is themselves the audience, all searching for what they want out of the plot. With great supporting performances by Christopher Walken and Sam Rockwell and a deliciously witty screenplay, the film does not aim just to be a meta-tale, but to give the audience enough ammo for their own interpretation (let alone questioning the audience themselves), as this film is literally searching for the meaning of… meaning.

6.) Nostalgia For The Light (d. Guzmán, 2010)

This documentary is astounding, seemingly able to do something that I was amazed it could do. To take two separate, equally captivating topics and make a documentary about them without each of them becoming overbearing is a feat itself, but there is a lot more. These two topics collide in one location: Atacama Desert, Chile, a section of the world which has literally no moisture. One story, with the clearest skies imaginable, astronomers explore the galaxy with gigantic telescopes, while the other story, mothers and sisters of the dead explore the desert to hopefully find the bodies after being subject to the whims of General Pinochet. These two stories combine into a poetic understanding of our existence, as both of their goals reflect each other and realise the horror and beauty of memory as well as the future. A purely visual film (don’t worry, there’s dialogue), it is hard to explain how it works that effectively, but it does.

5.) The Grey (d. Carnahan, 2012)

In this bleak genre piece, left in the dumping grounds of January, Carnahan finds that there is a lot more going on that just genre stylishness. With expert direction, he found that with the threat of death, there was a sense of life that was brought into the characters, and unlike other films like Poseidon, those stock characters felt like fodder, they were used to develop the narrative, emboldening the film’s themes of survival and acceptance of death. The atmosphere that is made gives the surroundings a life of its own, as the demise of certain characters feels immediate and full of impact. Ultimately, it is about Neeson’s character, that with the elements above, they bluster what is truly an Oscar worthy performance, feeling the turmoil that Neeson has, as he ultimately confronts God.

4.) Moonrise Kingdom(d. Anderson, 2012)

Wes Anderson returns with another perfectly executed film, as we follow the trials of two…’star-crossed’… lovers, twelve year olds that might have no sense of their future, but face the same emotional issues as their adult counterparts, as their joy is contrast to adult disappointment. The soundtrack is expertly crafted, as Anderson further proves that within extreme artifice, emotional truth can be expressed from almost anyone. With every young adult book that Susie (Kara Hayward) brings with her to Sam’s (Jared Gilman) survivalist techniques, their relationship and its survival feels so dramatically important, it has more danger than The Avengers had against a horde of aliens.

3.) Looper (d. Johnson, 2012)

If you are looking for a film that has a solid basis of time-travel, this is not the film for you. This film instead, at first, offers an exploration into encountering yourself from a different time, and what would happen. From that point, the film explores the implications of turning over a new leaf, while questioning the mechanics of how we are shaped as people, as the escalation of violence seem to make sure that they will go on repeating forever, and coming to terms with what true love is. Bruce Willis and Joseph Gordon-Levitt are superb as they act out their dilemmas, as opposites of the same coin as Johnson is proving to becoming a formidable auteur.

2.) Beasts of the Southern Wild (d. Zeitlin, 2012)

A fairy-tale that combines commentary on the woes of the Louisiana Delta, it is very much a tale of a community that is at threat while in a state of celebration. Quvenzhané Wallis, who plays Hushpuppy, is spellbinding, as she brings an optimistic cheer as the spirit who stands against the currents of when life seems to be difficult. While you could accuse the film as making a mockery of similar people, the film shows a father/daughter relationship is told that there is a constant cycle of destruction and restoration , as the film presents us with a raw fable about undying love, warts and all.

1.) Once Upon A Time In Anatolia (d. Ceylan, 2011)

This film transcends the immediate worries of life, or even its own murder mystery, from the beginning. A glacially paced mystery, where an investigation is treated with realistic, unexciting objectivity, following a variety of men of different walks of life, trying to find the buried body with murderer in tow. Instead of making it into CSI: Anatolia, the film proceeds to be an immersive experience that, with its length and lack of excitement, we learn what is truly magical about film-making. The slight looks on the actors’ faces, the way that lighting is used to bring the seemingly desolate Anatolia countryside alive. Ceylan realises that by avoiding the plot-point to plot-point structure, it makes us aware of each situation, even just a gesture, thematically or in actuality, that are the screen and even extend beyond it.

The film explores the issues of life and death, as this landscape seems to have hidden more bodies and souls than the one that appears on screen. Anatolia questions the very idea of existence, as each of the men have their various points of view, never fully satisfied in the answers, as in between jokes and the investigation, they look hard onto the nature of living. Each have their own worries and fears, as they all try to philosophise their existence as if they were on a stage, as they pass the seemingly identical rolling hills of Anatolia, a set that never changes until the last thirty minutes. The mystic breaks into reality, the poetic (a rolling apple) breaks into politics (Turkey’s attempts at getting into the EU), the film allows a cast of fully rounded Chekhovian characters be lost in a world they live in, accepting of what they do not understand, or be shaken by it.

Site Update

Posted on 2013/11/Feb by Milan Matejka

Dear Reader,

I am going to keep this simple: a change in life circumstances, coupled with other factors meant that I had left this site to the dogs. As much as my hope when I first started this site was to make it an avenue for other like-minded writers to join and create content, I failed in the simple regard to update regularly, as well as maintaining a great standard of writing, and also failed to constantly improve the website step by step, into something that could be taken beyond what it started out as.

I plan to change this. While I am hopeful that the podcast will return (as it wholly depends on the availability of my co-hosts and myself, at the same time being truthful to ourselves and making sure that we enjoy recording it as much as our audience), I have to keep the drum of this website going and neglected my duties. To partially explain my absence, in the interim I experimented with the tumblr format, but found that I was ill-suited to its format, and as consequence, left it to its regretfully idle status.

In the next couple of days, I hope to update this website with reviews and editorials of note, and as such, transporting the content of the tumblr first to this website for the first time, before embracing new material.

This is just a statement, not a cast-iron plea or a solid promise. What I do hope and desire to bring to you, the reader, is new pop culture related content to the website, ensuring that it has quality and integrity first and foremost. As soon as I get a steady flow, I hope to bring new writers onto this website, as well as multiple podcasts of various natures. What I aim for is an alternative from the fanboyism, totally consumed in ‘coolness’ to ignore nuance, and an alternative from hard-line art-house, where sometimes the austerity becomes too much, but rather a playful space for serious (and not so serious) criticism from multiple perspectives.

Let this February be a great, new beginning.

Much thanks,

Milan Matejka.

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