The following article was published in N-SPHERE November 2011 issue.
Daisies (Sedmikrásky, directed by Věra Chytilová) works like a childish and, at the same time, an ambiguous riddle. Since the film is part of the New Wave of Czech Cinema, this shouldn’t come as a surprise (remember Valerie and her week of wonders?). However, unlike Valerie…, which played more like a fairytale, holding a frail, but existent nonetheless, resemblance of a familiar structure, Sedmikrásky completely undermines it. There is a hint of a plot, but if you were told about it during or after the film ended it would not be much help. Nor would it be to try and follow the dialogues in a standard fashion. So, yes, if you like a film that has a clear structure, a discernible plot, read no more, ’cause this movie is not the right turn. This is not to say that Sedmikrásky is without interest. Not at all. Nor it is to say that it lacks energy, quite on the contrary, it has plenty of it and if you have a crush on the Dadaist movement, this film is a delicious treat.
I don’t usually do this, because in most of the cases I find expressing my primary reactions to a particular film to be boring and pointless, but in this case I shall follow the movie’s vibe. The first time I saw the film, a couple of months ago, I did not give it too much thought. I was aware of its energy, of its odd humour and its playfulness, but, at some point, it became – for me, at least – painfully exhausting. However, as it happened with some other films I have seen these years, I involuntarily came back to it and started recommending it… the more I thought of it, the more I got drawn into it.
This film is like the weird kid on the block, at first you may find him interesting, but then the more he talks or acts, the more you grow exhausted, until you decide to lose his trail. After a while, though, you’ll start thinking about him again and the more you do, the more you find the things he said or done to make some sense. Weird kid or weird record you listened back when you were a kid, take your pick (mine was Bjork’s Debut).
Since I mentioned Sedmikrásky‘s dialogue, there in a strong reference to Eugen Ionesco’s plays to be found here. In both cases we have an absurd dialogue, but wherein Ionesco’s case this absurdity underlines the growing impossibility of communication in modern society, here it highlights something primal. It plays more like a series of hints, like a coded language of a child.
There is another interesting link to the subsequent Drowning By Numbers (Peter Greenaway) and it is not the idea of games, but of names. In both cases, the respective protagonists have the same name: the two Maries of Sedmikrásky and the three Cissy Colprits of Drowning By Numbers.
Speaking of links, the film’s opening reminded me of another Czech film-maker, Jan Švankmajer. In that first sequence, the film’s protagonists seem to be more like puppets (Jan Švankmajer was known for his blend between film and animation) and there is a specific sound to be heard throughout that particular scene. Of course, there is another footnote that can be attached to that, involving the path taken by someone who starts constrained by rules and ends by – sweet irony – forcibly defying them. This can also explain the evolution of the dialogue in this particular sequence. In the very beginning, the output suggest rigidity, formalism, being like a puppet. After a few seconds we see the image of a wall falling and then the dialogue gets more and more free-wheeling up until the point the two protagonists decide that if everything is going bad in the world, then they can be bad as well. After that line, everything changes.
The formality is also hinted by the sepia colour. It is used in the opening and also in a restaurant scene, which plays very well as a satire against the bourgeois mannerisms, the act of eating playing an important role there as the equivalent of seeing: seeing in an indoctrinated yet elegant manner and seeing in a more barbaric and honest one. I am pointing this out because it fits, it makes sense for one to have thought these things back then, makes sense for one to think these things now. In the present, however, the barbaric honesty is more of an accessory. Back then, it was something some people were fighting for.
Speaking of bourgeoisie, there is another link to Le charme discreet de la bourgeoisie (Luis Buñuel). In both cases, what is subtracted is the context. We have a hint here, but it is too vague and works more like a slogan.
All in all, those who want something playful and free-wheeling, especially those who have a more organic contact with their Anima and the Dadaist movement, may be very excited about Sedmikrásky, while the rest are warmly recommended to see it (to end this review in the film’s fashion – more or less…).
Further viewing:
Fando Y Lis (1967, Alejandro Jodorowsky)
Food (1992, Jan Švankmajer)
Even Dwarves Started Small (1970, Werner Herzog)
Le charme discreet de la burgeoisie (1972, Luis Buñuel)
Sweet Movie (1970, Dusan Makavejev)
Photo | Sedmikrásky. 1966
by Shade
Full article here.
Daisies (Sedmikrásky, directed by Věra Chytilová) works like a childish and, at the same time, an ambiguous riddle. Since the film is part of the New Wave of Czech Cinema, this shouldn’t come as a surprise (remember Valerie and her week of wonders?). However, unlike Valerie…, which played more like a fairytale, holding a frail, but existent nonetheless, resemblance of a familiar structure, Sedmikrásky completely undermines it. There is a hint of a plot, but if you were told about it during or after the film ended it would not be much help. Nor would it be to try and follow the dialogues in a standard fashion. So, yes, if you like a film that has a clear structure, a discernible plot, read no more, ’cause this movie is not the right turn. This is not to say that Sedmikrásky is without interest. Not at all. Nor it is to say that it lacks energy, quite on the contrary, it has plenty of it and if you have a crush on the Dadaist movement, this film is a delicious treat.
I don’t usually do this, because in most of the cases I find expressing my primary reactions to a particular film to be boring and pointless, but in this case I shall follow the movie’s vibe. The first time I saw the film, a couple of months ago, I did not give it too much thought. I was aware of its energy, of its odd humour and its playfulness, but, at some point, it became – for me, at least – painfully exhausting. However, as it happened with some other films I have seen these years, I involuntarily came back to it and started recommending it… the more I thought of it, the more I got drawn into it.
This film is like the weird kid on the block, at first you may find him interesting, but then the more he talks or acts, the more you grow exhausted, until you decide to lose his trail. After a while, though, you’ll start thinking about him again and the more you do, the more you find the things he said or done to make some sense. Weird kid or weird record you listened back when you were a kid, take your pick (mine was Bjork’s Debut).
Since I mentioned Sedmikrásky‘s dialogue, there in a strong reference to Eugen Ionesco’s plays to be found here. In both cases we have an absurd dialogue, but wherein Ionesco’s case this absurdity underlines the growing impossibility of communication in modern society, here it highlights something primal. It plays more like a series of hints, like a coded language of a child.
There is another interesting link to the subsequent Drowning By Numbers (Peter Greenaway) and it is not the idea of games, but of names. In both cases, the respective protagonists have the same name: the two Maries of Sedmikrásky and the three Cissy Colprits of Drowning By Numbers.
Speaking of links, the film’s opening reminded me of another Czech film-maker, Jan Švankmajer. In that first sequence, the film’s protagonists seem to be more like puppets (Jan Švankmajer was known for his blend between film and animation) and there is a specific sound to be heard throughout that particular scene. Of course, there is another footnote that can be attached to that, involving the path taken by someone who starts constrained by rules and ends by – sweet irony – forcibly defying them. This can also explain the evolution of the dialogue in this particular sequence. In the very beginning, the output suggest rigidity, formalism, being like a puppet. After a few seconds we see the image of a wall falling and then the dialogue gets more and more free-wheeling up until the point the two protagonists decide that if everything is going bad in the world, then they can be bad as well. After that line, everything changes.
The formality is also hinted by the sepia colour. It is used in the opening and also in a restaurant scene, which plays very well as a satire against the bourgeois mannerisms, the act of eating playing an important role there as the equivalent of seeing: seeing in an indoctrinated yet elegant manner and seeing in a more barbaric and honest one. I am pointing this out because it fits, it makes sense for one to have thought these things back then, makes sense for one to think these things now. In the present, however, the barbaric honesty is more of an accessory. Back then, it was something some people were fighting for.
Speaking of bourgeoisie, there is another link to Le charme discreet de la bourgeoisie (Luis Buñuel). In both cases, what is subtracted is the context. We have a hint here, but it is too vague and works more like a slogan.
All in all, those who want something playful and free-wheeling, especially those who have a more organic contact with their Anima and the Dadaist movement, may be very excited about Sedmikrásky, while the rest are warmly recommended to see it (to end this review in the film’s fashion – more or less…).
Further viewing:
Fando Y Lis (1967, Alejandro Jodorowsky)
Food (1992, Jan Švankmajer)
Even Dwarves Started Small (1970, Werner Herzog)
Le charme discreet de la burgeoisie (1972, Luis Buñuel)
Sedmikrásky
Sweet Movie (1970, Dusan Makavejev)
