Reviews

I knew nothing about this film when I sat down to it as part of a project to choose films for distribution in the Czech Republic. I took to it fast. The hand-held camera takes some getting used to, and there were times when the action was unclear due to a lack of light. The style was appropriate for the most part, however, suiting the subject and setting. The main characters are sympathetic and their stories comprehensible from the start. The brothers Ayiva and Abas we travel with from a few minutes into the film, are believably differentiated throughout. I personally understood Ayiva, whose POV the film takes, and who seemed to take a rope-a-dope stance to anything the world could throw at him, but could understand why his brother might look down on him for it.

The film is gentle. Never preachy. The acting is natural. I have come across references to the main characters having been played by non-actors, with Ayiva played by a refugee whose story resembles his character's. True or not, it feels real enough. For most of the film, the story of the refugees life here stands in relation to many other similarly-themed films as Jarhead stands to other war films: though there is action, it's low key, with much of it relating to work, to getting hands on a bargain, Skypeing home, the rituals of food. In the last third of the film, this changes somewhat, but if the pace steps up, it is never long frenetic.

In 2015, this is an important film that deserves some real success.

This may not be a good place to start to enjoy Czech film - there are more accessible New Wave films - but it is a very powerful film which should not be missed by anybody who has more than a passing familiarity with the country and its history. With actors such as Radoslav Brzobohatý, Vladimír Menšík, a young Jíří Kodet, and the ever-popular singer and actor Waldemar Matuška, the film has a first-rate cast. In Jaroslav Kučera, it had a great cinematographer. Jasný was by now an accomplished screenwriter and, the countryside of the Pardubice region was as beautiful a backdrop as the machinations of the early communist period and, in particularly, the collectivisation of agriculture, were a fascinating subject. Still, the excellence of the film was not a given. The structure, given in large part by alternating dramatic changes of the environment as the seasons change and those first years after the communist takeover roll on, is effective and well-paced and permits a continuity of tone and subject with certain more episodic elements. The plot, on the page, might come across as busy, but on the screen, there is plenty of breathing space, and room for exquisite shots of the countryside, of work, even of play. So too does the heroic refusal to compromise of one of the characters, František, which becomes of increasing importance as the film moves into the mid 1950s, do nothing to detract from the well-balanced portrayal of the various characters of the village, described and referred to by their silly nicknames from the opening scenes in the months after the war. The history and fates of these characters are handled deftly, often with a brevity and telling detail of a John Cheever story. Neither is the film as unremittingly brutal as others handling similar material, such as the excellent, and thematically similar Smuteční slavnost of the following year. Like that film, I hope to return to Všichni dobří rodáci many times yet, and am sure it will repay repeated viewing.