Watched The Matrix Resurrections. To invoke the memories of the original trilogy — starting with the whimsical references and recreation of scenes, and up to the point where they actually included the footage from the first three films — was the most important decision for the creation of the sequel.

The main plot wasn’t terrible. But the execution was… not good. And by “execution” here I mean all the little details that make a film. The non-authentic performance of actors, the shallow characters whose brief moments bore no significance, the amateur camera angles and color palettes, the uncomfortably fast narration pace that made everything feel less important, like a forgettable feverish dream, the childish jokes, the slickness of the CGI, the sloppy and lazy fighting scenes, the mood of unseriousness. From the very start, I knew: either no one would die here or there would be one death in the style of Tobey Maguire’s Spiderman. (I love Tobey’s Spiderman. But the drama level of a superhero comix has no place in the grim world of The Matrix.)

The most beautiful scenes were those where they inserted the scenes from the previous films. And I am fine with this fact. I couldn’t stop feeling appreciation. Thank you, Wachowskis. Thank you, everyone who made the original trilogy possible. Thank you, The Matrix Resurrections, for reminding us what a masterpiece it was.