Director:
Jitka RudolfováGuión:
Jitka RudolfováCámara:
Ferdinand MazurekMúsica:
Filip MíšekReparto:
Jana Plodková, Martin Myšička, Jaroslav Plesl, Jan Budař, Václav Neužil ml., Martin Pechlát, Tomáš Jeřábek, Jakub Žáček, Karel Zima, Jana Andresíková (más)Sinopsis(1)
The film's main theme is obsession. An obsession with love, with art, with originality, with copying, with success, with money and... with oneself. Sooner or later every obsession leads us to ruin if we lose our rational upper hand over it, if we let ourselves be dragged down by it. But it is only when being dragged down, in spite of all the cuts and bruises, that we find a unique DELIGHT, if only for a few short moments – and what else is life really about? It is kind of like a drug. What at first seems to be weak and trivial is capable of expanding and growing into a serious problem that can appear to be absolutely incomprehensible and absurd to those who have never experienced anything like it.
Jitka Rudolfová, director
(texto oficial de la distribuidora)
Reseñas (3)
A whirlwind from the mountains – yhose who know the artistic background of Jitka Rudolfová know what I am talking about. I remember how 15 years ago or so my friend and I made fun of Jitka's pseudo-novel screened at a club and this is riding a similar wave. I appreciate the surprising visual composition, which more than once pleases the aesthete's eye, and it's good that the film is free from boring clichés, but otherwise the screenplay, floundering from nothing to nothing, is simply terrible. Didn't Vachek do the dramaturgy? After thirty minutes, I have to agree with what one of the protagonists says, it’s not fun.
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Garbage film model 2013. It moves away from the gray mundaneness and ground perspective, raises its eyes to the stars, takes place in a space that has a clear symbolic dimension (accentuated by compositions and the appearance of the pre-camera space), and is not afraid of cues and ambiguous episodes. It is simply more confident, but paradoxically trudges through same mud as its more provincial colleagues. The characters are equally unsympathetic, apathetic, painful and thesis-like. Intimacy, deeper empathy, the opportunity to engage (even if only) in banalities are lacking. Nicer packaging, just as disconcerted interior. In addition, some of the "social-gender-critical" jokes suffer from awkward humorous sketch syndrome. For the effort to see the spurious "life of misery" at least a little from a vantage point, and for the few shots that reveal a more consistent directing concept, I give Delight (which does not evoke delight even by the consistent absence of delight) a slightly above average grade. The only thing that really fascinates me is how all these "generational" statements pass me by. Ever since Loners. With regard to Delight, I can at least blame it on the fact that it takes place in a completely different reality, where in French films from the 1930s it is refocused in one shot and MOVIE THEATERS are given with fast dubbing. Haha.
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A chilling realistic drama. I have a problem with this type of film because it's like looking in a mirror. Yet that's just the way it is and the film just records and reflects it for those who are not so trapped in their own heads.
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