gudaulin

In ancient times of socialist Czechoslovakia, TV series were a showcase of television production and created a phenomenon that determined the satisfaction of viewers. Since then, there has been an effort by television managers to succeed in the field of original television series production, and with The Life and Times of Judge A. K., it is evident how ambitious the goal was to create a series that would please both the audience and critics hungry for artistic reflection of today's morally divided era. Through its protagonist, the series aims to raise questions and delve into painful moral dilemmas. I cannot assess the professional aspect of the project, that is, to what extent the discussed legal cases correspond to existing legislation. As for everything else, David Švehlík excels and portrays a charismatic protagonist, with whom viewers will likely have no trouble identifying given his human judgments and professional rulings. The series functions quite decently based on individual court cases – typologically characteristic cases that, although lacking depth or rather pretending to have depth, are still considered solidly above average compared to commercial series of competing television stations within the framework of the game in the small country. However, I am accustomed to comparing Czech productions with unconventional works from world television, and the gap is still enormous. The series does not captivate and is up to his ears in entrenched schemes and conventions. The character's inner monologues are somewhat literary and pedagogical, his personal life and problems bore me, and when I skipped two episodes, nothing attracted me to watch them online. It is not a fundamental series for me, although some of the problems and topics are serious. Overall impression: 55%.

What is most interesting about this film is how it can fascinate and deeply affect members of the Catholic minority, who have a strong tendency to find true, long-unseen spirituality in it. It directly calls for a confrontation with the atheist point of view. Personally, I consider Bresson's project to be a somewhat tiresome, but tolerably filmed study of an emotionally immature man, who, mainly due to his own fault, lives in social isolation within the community and is (rightfully) plagued by doubts about his ability to withstand the priesthood at a time when the sheep were slowly but surely becoming more educated and freethinking citizens, making the position and work of pastors somewhat difficult. The truth is that if you want to succeed in the modern world as a priest, you need much more than just belief in the existence of God. You must also have a good understanding of human psychology and empathy for human imperfections and needs. The young pastor's loneliness is his own doing, and his suffering does not touch me more than any other seriously ill person of his age. Bresson's Catholicism leaves me cold. I perceive an absence of dramatic tension, stiffness, and exhaustion in the film. For example, a confrontation between the values of the world and the attitude of the priest with his peer - a member of the foreign legion who offers friendship to the priest - would be interesting even today and for a viewer like me. However, Bresson avoided it, as it apparently had no significance for his Catholic beliefs and cinematic vision. Overall impression: 50%.

The series of Spielberg's projects, which made the director famous, no longer excites me today, but if I had to name a title that I consider crucial in his early creative period, it would be Jaws. Spielberg showed himself to be a great storyteller here, who masterfully worked with tension and human fear of the unknown. From a basically very simple plot, he made a gripping genre film that could become a textbook for aspiring filmmakers, and a number of scenes still amaze today with the filmmaker's impressive cleverness. I consider the underwater scenes filmed from the shark's perspective or the view of the fisherman on a broken pier particularly well-crafted, as he experiences a transformation from the hunter to the hunted in a split second. Overall impression: 90%.

Let's say that the theme of the TV movie is a warning against the risks of anorexia, drug experiments, and emotional vulnerability in adolescence. However, the rest does not withstand a more critical view. Quite disturbing is the finding that the script was supported as one of the best via financial grants because I do not consider it satisfactory even. The second little star the film will receive from me as a reward for Vít Olmer because it is unquestionably the best film from his workshop in the last quarter-century. I'm afraid that Olmer has reached his current maximum with this film. But there is, of course, a bit of irony in it, because it is necessary to realize the level at which Vítek has been working in the past decades. Any other positives? The casting of the main female duo is decent, but the rest not so much, and it all feels more or less untrustworthy. Overall impression: 30%.

Belle de Jour was allegedly Buñuel's most commercially successful film. It is no wonder, as it deals with a spicy storyline and the director also came up with an effective lure by casting the charming Catherine Deneuve in the main role. Buñuel had several motifs in his work that he obsessively returned to, and the most frequently used one was criticism of bourgeois morality stemming from a bigotedly experienced Christianity and dogmatic ideas about human sexuality, which were deeply rooted in the 19th century. A materially well-off bourgeois lady, living in such an exemplary marriage that it could represent a dream historical ideal for many, seemingly lacks nothing. However, she feels increasingly dissatisfied, and bored, and the conflict between her strict Catholic upbringing and obligations to her social status on one hand, and unsatisfied sexual urges and a desire for adventure on the other, is tearing her apart more and more intensely. Outwardly conservative, the woman starts living a double life and finds escape in the occupation of a luxury prostitute. Buñuel satirizes religious resistance to eroticism and sexual desire, as well as attacking the traditional model of family, which refuses to see women as anything more than mothers and housewives. He also perceives sexual intercourse primarily, if not exclusively, as a means of reproduction. With the passage of time, Belle de Jour can be seen as a typical representative of the socially critical intellectual movement in European cinema of the 1960s and 1970s. In today's fast-paced times, which prefer shortcuts and overt displays, Buñuel's refinement, his restraint, and his ability to merely suggest, which may be unattractive to some, are highly appreciated by me. Overall impression: 90%.

After watching The Nun's Night, this film may perhaps be the best film dedicated to the collectivization of the Czechoslovak village. Kachyňa's poetics have darkened here, the film is grittier, and moreover, due to the camera movements and dynamic editing, the film appears confused at first. On the other hand, such top-quality camera work combined with impressive black-and-white imagery is rarely seen in Czechoslovak cinematography, and in my opinion, Kachyňa stands up well in comparison to the world-famous classics of his time. The screenplay does not take sides, it simply captures the clash of opposing ideological worlds and different interest groups and value hierarchies. On one side, there is a world of generations of built-up farmland, religion, traditions, and superstitions, on the other side is the world of those who have decided to build a new society at all costs, even if it means ruthlessly destroying the old one. The Wedding Night is a bold and provocative film not only in the context of its time. The comrades really could not forgive Procházka for the character of the bitter and vengeful chairman of the cooperative, and the once-prominent author thus became a symbol of resistance against the regime. On the other hand, the former nun and her relationship with the local beggar, which clearly has a sadomasochistic dimension, will be indigestible for some even today. I consider The Nun's Night to be an extraordinary film in every respect, but one that is unfortunately quite forgotten. Overall impression: 95%.

I had considered The End of a Priest one of the most impressive films of Czechoslovak cinema of the 1960s. However, repeated viewing years later did not confirm my exceptional experience. From Schorm's film emerged only a solid, mediocre piece, which elevates the presence of two great actors - Vlastimil Brodský and Jan Libíček. Libíček excels in the role of a rural teacher and mayor. It is one of the most rewarding characters of his prematurely ended yet intense and successful acting career. His character of careerist, manipulator, and intriguer represents the face of state power, which the actor systematically parodies, ironizes, and mocks ideological clichés, phrases, and hypocrisy. His counterpart represents a sympathetic church custodian who, rather out of misunderstanding than ill intent, accepts the position of a priest in a village he passes through. The new role, secretly desiring it, gradually engulfs him, and the fake priest becomes a moral authority and counterbalance to secular power. This starting point is very interesting, but due to the potential remaining untapped, it falls short of what it deserves. The film is highly inconsistent - on the one hand, it aims for a relaxed comedy from the Czech countryside in a more refined style, characterized by characters like a stubborn hypochondriac grandmother. On the other hand, allegorical motifs appear in scenes with a traveling theater and strange supervisors-advisors, which would be more suited for intellectual reflection for a demanding viewer. Add to that the tragic ending, which clashes with the pleasant comedic atmosphere, and the result is a film that doesn't know what it wants to be. Overall impression: 65%.

This film is an example of Karel Kachyňa's directorial mastery. The film clearly shows that Kachyňa originally studied camera work and is strongest in working with imagery. The film is a caustic reflection of life in a Moravian village at the end of the war. Kachyňa looks at the rural community of the German Reich's demise and the arrival of new orders through the eyes of a 12-year-old boy who escapes from the joyless reality (he is the target of mockery, isolated from his peers, and has an insensitive despot for a father who considers corporal punishment the most effective educational tool) and runs into a world of dreams and fantasies. The film requires greater perception, as it constantly alternates between different time layers and dreams. The viewer gradually puts together a whole image and constructs a story from the individual fragments. Kachyňa looks at the liberation of the republic with a non-ideological perspective and finds the glorification of liberation and the Soviet army that was common until then foreign to him. On the contrary, the final scapegoating of the local outsider, whom the community has chosen as a sacrificial lamb for their frustration from the occupation's powerlessness and at the same time as an ideal means to divert attention from their own moral decline, is one of the most impressive examples of repulsive Czech mentality and human pettiness. In my opinion, in this film Kachyňa sometimes gets carried away with poetic imagery and other times edits shots in a way that compromises the comprehensibility of the plot, but even with these reservations, it is an exceptionally powerful film, one of the best of its decade. Overall impression: 90%.

In its time, it was possibly the most controversial film, and that is saying something because it was the 1970s, full of wild antics and echoes of the sexual revolution, with the invasion of pornography into the public space. Fierce debates between guardians of morality, for whom Salo was the devil, and those who considered the same film to be the pinnacle of tormenting art to which contemporary critics simply did not measure up, filled all media outlets, and censorship even got involved. With the passage of time, Pasolini's final film no longer impresses me as something worth arguing about, nor is it a shock or surprise. Pigsty already convinced me that if Pasolini's final films deserve any attribute, it is unfortunately the word "boring." From my perspective, 120 Days of Sodom can be considered a perfect artistic failure. Just compare it to Klimov's masterpiece Come and See, where the filmmaker does not shy away from brutal shots, but they fit organically into the narrative, only make up a small part of the runtime, are never gratuitous, and yet have a devastating emotional impact. Klimov often only hints at things and works with the viewer's imagination and expectations. Pasolini is embarrassingly literal, static, and unoriginal. Furthermore, someone with a complicated and, dare I say, distorted sexuality should not have worked on this similar subject. It is practically impossible not to notice how often the camera satisfies Pasolini's homosexual desires and fantasies. Such a sensitive and demanding theme would have to be handled by someone bold, yet artistically exceptionally talented. I can think of Haneke or Lars von Trier, for example. The majority of Salo is filled with tedious, boring, and irrelevant stories of young women or pseudo-intellectual ramblings of the four owners of the human circus. Pasolini couldn't secure the presence of quality actors, which is especially evident in the fascist bosses who seem to have come out of some slightly artistically disguising soft porn, and their sliminess borders on caricature, sometimes even crosses it. Only in the last five minutes, when unusually brutal scenes of violence occur even for a jaded viewer, is Pasolini able to grab one's attention, but unfortunately in a manner that is far too cheap. Overall impression: 10% for the theme.

In Maps to the Stars, David Cronenberg ruthlessly settles the score with nothing less than Hollywood itself and its glamour. This perspective brings disillusionment from a world where ruthless competition, pretense, cynicism, and the pursuit of pleasures prevail. In the chosen viewpoint, Cronenberg is not original; others have also gone after the dream factory in a similar manner. However, Cronenberg can rely on the quality acting of several film stars, led by Julianne Moore. She provides yet further proof that she belongs in the top rankings of contemporary actresses. Her fading film star is able to change all imaginable moods and expressions on the surface offered by the script. Mia Wasikowska, who is a generation younger, skillfully supports her. At the same time, Cronenberg can rely on his intimate knowledge of the environment, and some of his jabs are effective and precise. Essentially, I like his directing style, but one can't help but feel that the mysterious layer of the story is actually unnecessary, and above all, the crazy twist based on incest is contrived and the director could have treated the resolution of his story much more rationally without sacrificing the credibility and effectiveness of the story. A comparison with the famous Mulholland Drive by a different David is readily available, as they both play with the same environment, expressive means, and genre combinations, but the result is not flattering for Cronenberg. Lynch managed to play with Hollywood, genre references, and the viewer much more cleverly, sophisticatedly, and entertainingly. At the same time, I fear that outside the classic festival circuit, Cronenberg will not find much understanding for his perspective on the filmmaking world. Perhaps a note on the genre - labeling this piece as romantic carries the same weight as speaking about romance in the film The Hurt Locker since James really had a passionate relationship with war. Overall impression: 60%.