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I was pleasantly surprised, especially since I didn't care much for the first one. The animation here is fantastic-breathtaking flight sequences, flawless action, and a use of technology that gives everything a unique sense of energy.

The return of Bernard and Bianca is a joy, and the Australian setting brings a welcome freshness. Cody, the eagle, and the villain McLeach create a simple yet effective plot, with a climax that still makes me tense every time the chicks' nest is in danger.

It's more entertaining and visually appealing than the original. While it might not rank among Disney's greatest classics, it's a worthy and special sequel-the studio's first "official" one, and the only canonical sequel for many years. Disney in the '90s had such charm... it's a shame to see the direction it has taken in recent years.

It's Howard Hawks' first "pure" western and his first collaboration with John Wayne, and yet everything is already there: the sweeping landscapes, the weathered cowboys, the clashes with Native Americans, and a constant, simmering tension in every frame. There's even room for emotional ambiguity and raw physical violence.

John Wayne is monumental. He delivers a restrained, powerful performance-just as ambiguous as the character he plays. Tom Dunson is both hero and villain, an admirable pioneer who is also authoritarian, brutal, and deeply flawed. His relationship with Matt (a young Montgomery Clift, mimicking Wayne's very gestures) is the emotional core of the film. It's not just rivalry-it's deeper: respect, rupture, and the need for approval. It's the classic tale of the son who must symbolically kill the father in order to grow.

What struck me most is how patiently Hawks builds everything through tension. There's no rush-every scene carries weight, detail, and richness. The black-and-white cinematography is stunning, with images that stick with you-like that circular shot of the cattle before the big journey.

And while it could be "just" an epic western (and it is, in a sense), it's also a meditation on power, succession, and redemption. There's no glory without cost. The ending doesn't seek to destroy the past but to reconcile with it-the son doesn't erase the father, he absorbs him. And that, ultimately, is the western at its purest.

I still believe the western is where the greatest values-dignity, endurance, courage, forgiveness-have always lived. Red River has them all.

A vibrant return from Tim Burton to the chaotic, playful, and gothic style that defined his early work in the 1980s. More than a film sustained by its narrative, it's an immediate visual spectacle where every aesthetic choice-from art direction to costumes and effects-shouts the director's unmistakable imprint.

Michael Keaton reprises his role as Beetlejuice with the same explosive energy and grotesque charm that made him unforgettable over three decades ago. His presence dominates the screen and once again becomes the heart of the film.

The story revolves around Lydia, now a famous medium and mother to a teenage daughter, Astrid (played by Jenna Ortega), who brings freshness and a modern touch to the family legacy. However, the script feels more like an overflow of loosely connected vignettes than a cohesive plot, with multiple subplots and villains that sometimes overwhelm and leave loose ends-such as Monica Bellucci's character, who is visually striking but underdeveloped, with her storyline ending abruptly.

This sequel doesn't concern itself much with delivering a firm or linear narrative; instead, it focuses on an exuberant visual design that recaptures the playful, genuine, and nostalgic magic of Burton's golden era. There is a clear celebration of handcrafted, practical effects that take precedence over modern CGI.