Profile: Miloš Forman and the Czechoslovak New Wave
Written by Abigail Kinsella
As this month’s theme is European films, this seems like the perfect opportunity to discuss one of my favourite European cinemas, and one of my favourite film movements in general. The Czech New Wave came about in the early 1960s when the communist government of Czechoslovakia brought in liberal reforms and relaxed censorship. This enabled filmmakers to produce work which would previously have been banned. Unlike some film movements, the films of the Czech New Wave didn’t follow a strict form. Their styles varied greatly, but one thing they had in common was a theme of rebellion. Ranging from realistic portrayals of the mundanity of communist life, to full blown attacks on the establishment, these films took really advantage of the new freedom offered to them.
One of the key figures of the Czech New Wave was Miloš Forman. Despite his later American career earning him multiple Academy Awards and spanning 35 years, I’m focussing on the three Czech films he made during this tumultuous decade. After making documentaries in the early 1960’s with his friend and fellow filmmaker Ivan Passer, Forman released his first feature film, Black Peter. Released in 1964 the film follows Petr, a teenager starting a new job as a shop security guard. In this slice of life piece, we spend a few days with Petr as he navigates the troubles of being a teenager- doing a job he hates, attempting to woo the girl he likes and dealing with bullies. What’s great about this film is its timelessness. I’m sure to many teenagers, the issues faced by Petr are still as relevant today as they were in 1964. We’ve all been a Petr at some point. Struggling with our first job, awkwardly interacting with people we don’t want to be around and being interrogated by our parents upon returning home.
His next film, Loves of a Blonde (1965) is the story of Andula, a small-town girl looking for love. When the supervisor of the local factory despairs about low morale amongst his workers, the army are brought into town to provide companionship for the women. At an awkward party attended by middle aged, married soldiers, and disappointed young women, Andula falls for a piano player from Prague. This film provides a great insight into life for young women living in Czechoslovakia at the time, and the futility of aiming high in a system designed to keep you down. Andula wants more from life. She isn’t satisfied with her boyfriend or her shoe factory job or her small-town. In the end though, the characters in this film reflect on their woes with a humour and light-heartedness that is necessary when living in a totalitarian state.
These first two films both follow youths who lack purpose in life and make poor decisions. They also deal with a certain awkwardness around sex and relationships that would have only been exacerbated by the repression and censorship inflicted on Czech society. Loves of a Blonde in particular makes life in Czechoslovakia look very bleak for young people. It makes subtle digs at communist society, commenting on ineffective state planning- women outnumber men 16-1 in Andula’s town- and the poor choice to send mostly married older men to the town. These ideas would not have been allowed under the previous filmmaking style of Socialist Realism, which only allowed positive portrayals of Soviet life. Rather than portraying the youths in these films as productive young people who enjoy their lives and have no problems, Petr and Andula struggle with life as young people in Czech society at the time. His most pointed attack on the communist regime, The Firemen’s Ball (1967), is about a group of firefighters trying to arrange a ball in honour of their retiring chairman. As the evening progresses, multiple mishaps- such as stolen raffle prizes, a fumbled beauty pageant and a literal fire- turn the night into a disaster, exposing the inability of the governing body. What may at first just seem like a comedy of errors, can easily be read as a comment on the corruption and failures of the communist government- although on a much smaller scale. The Communist Party took offence to this and subsequently banned the film.
In 1968, during the “Prague Spring”, newly elected leader Alexander Dubček attempted to further liberalise Czechoslovakia resulting in Soviet Forces invading the country. This invasion brought about the end of the political reforms and effectively ended the Czech New Wave. Forman and others emigrated to the USA to continue making films, whilst those who remained faced censorship and outright bans. Despite his change of locale, Forman continued the spirit of the Czech New Wave somewhat, making films about controversial figures and people rebelling against oppressors throughout his career.
Two Reflections by Fassbinder
Written by Isaac Holmes
Throughout this semester’s European Cinema module, I’ve been lucky enough to have been exposed to some great and diverse cinema from all around the continent. Out of all the cinema I’ve been fortunate enough to encounter while learning no one has managed to hold my attention quite like Rainer Werner Fassbinder.
There’s a lot to like in his vast filmography. His films are aesthetically pristine with this great use of colour and mise-en-scene that makes environments feel lived in and memorable, which would lately greatly influence Pedro Almodóvar (in my eyes the only director with better set design). He takes this visual base and inserts his characters perfectly with immaculate framing, creating worlds within worlds that are ideal for exploring character’s inner thoughts and psyches.
This is where the substance meets the surface. Post-war Germany is one of the most interesting environments for social commentary and fortunately the auteurs of the New German Cinema had the talent and ambition to create great filmmaking with loftier goals that would truly challenge audiences and explore this social climate. Fassbinder’s films are reflections on the trauma the war had imposed and the seemingly contradictory society that arose out of it. How racism didn’t disappear with the Nazis, how class was the new friction in the liberal west German Berlin and how identity was shakier than it ever had been before.
He makes a simple assertion that while fascism is over society still holds a great amount of bigotry and conflict due to tradition and the newfound oppressive bourgeoise culture. He explores this conflict through dysfunctional relationships between outsiders weaving their emotional stories with intelligent social criticism and reflection.
His most prominent work is Ali: Fear Eats the Soul (1974). It follows a mature woman falling in love with an Arab man heavily inspired by Douglas Sirk’s All that Heaven Allows. Where Sirk was focused on class differences and the superficiality of high-class society, Fassbinder is concerned with race relations and the stigma that mixed-race couples and Arab immigrants faced in Germany at the time. The transition from fascism into progressivism is still pending and the society shown treats immigrants and Arabs with misanthropy, seeing anyone who even associates with them as inhuman or a traitor. The relationship between Ali and Emmi is forbidden by social custom and their desire to follow their hearts leads to them becoming outsiders in their respective communities. Emmi is too white for Ali’s friends and Ali is too Arabic and rejected by Emmi’s co-workers and neighbours. Their love makes them ostracised from everyone, totally alone apart from each other which leads to great comfort and greater tragedy when things don’t go as planned.
There’s an unfortunate relevance to contemporary Germany with the refugee crisis and rising reactionary movements returning to the cold society Fassbinder depicted. Besides the social exploration and critique of Racism my favourite aspect is the way Fassbinder shows their forbidden relationship. He takes time to show little things and small moments of Ali and Emmi caring about each other, we can tell from the way they touch or talk how much they are in love. Fassbinder makes his characters so believable and compassionate which greatly juxtaposes against the cold and inhuman people trying to tear them apart. It’s an empathetic love story backed up by a strong message that rightfully deserves its acclaim.
The second film I watched, and by far my personal favourite, was Fox and his Friends (1975). It centres on the titular Fox played by Fassbinder himself in one of his most blatant self-inserts. A carnival worker who wins the lottery is suddenly brought into a bourgeois society where he clearly doesn’t fit. We see him totally mishandle his wealth and fall into an exploitative relationship with a failing factory owner.
Their relationship is the part that engaged me the most as Fassbinder deftly explores the intersection of social class and homosexuality. He shows cultural divides and the societal pressures changing in Fox’s life which highlights the difference between being poor and gay and rich and gay. This is Fassbinder speaking from personal experience. He grew up in a bourgeois family but was always ostracised from high-class society due to his delinquency and sexuality. Fox’s feelings and alienation from the upper class is so believable and detailed because Fassbinder himself went through all this.
Fox is presented as one of the few genuine people in the film capable of affection and a determination to help others and do what’s right. This sincerity makes him vulnerable as he falls into the machinations of Eugen and the upper-class clique determined to exploit his new-found wealth. Fox’s desires are still that of a poor man’s. He wants a healthy relationship and to feel loved and stable but the group of sharks he found himself associating with care only for wealth; which leads to a tragic downward spiral for Fox and an emotionally devastating ending (which would later be pastiched for Gus Van Sant’s My Own Private Idaho, a personal favourite of mine and indicative of Fassbinder’s influence on cinema).
Seeing comfort and luxury come and go tears into the viewer as Fox is too naïve and trusting to make decisions on his own or truly thrive. It’s a classic take on money can’t buy happiness and just as moody and touching as Ali.
Fassbinder’s filmography is unique and has really captivated me. I’ve barely scratched the surface and he’s owed much further exploration over Christmas. I’m glad that one of Germany’s biggest names in arthouse cinema is so politically invested and has deep insightful commentary. At a time when reactionary politics are re-emerging across Europe his films are more important now than ever to show the division bigotry causes and how repressive systems can ruin individuals on the outskirts of society.