The Painted Bird

After Tobruk, Václav Marhoul convinced me for the second time that he and I are simply not on the same wavelength. Now, after the almost three-hour ‘frantic ride,’ I can’t help but wonder what he wanted to convey with this film. Next to Come and See and Hatred, The Painted Bird feels rather underwhelming. The information that the story takes place during WWII came to me only in the form of a Storch flying over, other indications appeared much later. I still don't know where the story was set (Carpathian Ruthenia?). I also didn't understand why the little Jew was played by a Gipsy. The story unfolded in a very awkward way. Throughout the film I felt like it was weirdly cut, I was annoyed by its strange rhythm: boring, boring, boring - brutal violence - boring, boring, boring - brutal violence - boring, boring, boring – pedophilia - boring, boring, boring - zoophilia, etc. I also didn't understand why there was violence in the film in the first place when the creators were obviously more afraid of it than the viewers. That way, most scenes look silly bordering on ridiculous. For example, the completely pointless zoophilia scene had me in stitches, Václav Marhoul can't have been serious. On the other hand, if Fifty Shades of Grey gives you goosebumps, this will be a rough experience for you, which might even lead to some involuntary bedwetting. At least I already know what those awards were for. Wait... actually, I don't. P.S. Those bikini tan lines on Denisa Pfauserová sure looked historically accurate :-) (17/05/2020)

Don't get mad at me, but this is literally a hodgepodge of random scenes in a tedious three-hour runtime. I appreciate Václav Marhoul's effort to try something new and in a way he succeeded, because in all the Czech cinematic garbage he managed to create something of quality, worldly, innovative and unconventional, but I personally don't like the result that much. Trying to make the whole point of "a good child turning evil as a result of the corruption of the world around him" is presented in a terribly skeletal way, with the boy going from village to village, encountering only evil everywhere, and the whole thing feels like 300 scenes cut from a different film each time, the shots are empty and bland, the actors barely speak, and there is no story. I really don't understand what we are supposed to take away from the film. The generation of "our parents" has no chance to put in 170 minutes of running time, the film nerds won't be shocked by the scenes, because we've seen similar things on a much crueler scale countless times before, and there's actually nothing as brutal and naturalistic as advertised. That leaves me with the last group, the film critics, but I think they're just singing odes to the film. Strange and weird, but unfortunately also boring, bland, tedious and unreflective. Some will like it, but I'd say most will have a hard time making it to the end. Unfortunately, not because of the crudeness, but just because of the insane boredom. (22/03/2022)

A few years ago, I couldn’t have imagined anyone having the confidence to create something so expressive, existential, full of allegory, with minimal dialogue, stunning cinematography, and performances that blend both local and international talent. And yet, here we are with The Painted Bird. It’s proof that we still have the ability to craft films of this caliber, that these kinds of cinematic masterpieces aren’t relics of the past. The Painted Bird is undoubtedly a gem of Czech cinema in the last decade—a passion project director Václav Marhoul spent years nurturing before finally bringing it to life. A project many thought was impossible to make, but here it is. The result is an unforgettable experience, albeit deeply depressing, which was likely the intention. The episodic storytelling bugged me a little, but considering the novel it’s based on, it probably couldn’t have been done any other way. With each chapter, I kept thinking, “It can’t possibly get worse,” and yet it always did in ways I couldn’t have imagined. Despite everything, The Painted Bird is a strikingly original, solid three-hour piece of filmmaking that’s far from relaxing, but offers a profound and unique experience. Marhoul amazed me years ago with Tobruk, and he’s done it again. (09/03/2021)

The Painted Bird is undoubtedly an ambitious filmmaking project eyeing festival awards, as evidenced by its strong theme and international cast. I welcomed the black-and-white visuals, which (as was once the case with Psycho) reduced the violence and atrocities presented by the absence of colour. I was intrigued by the episodic nature of the film, in which the young and initially innocent child protagonist meets various characters on his 'journey home' who influence, mark or corrupt him in different ways. By Czech standards, this is without question a supremely raw film featuring pervasive violence against humans and animals and an inhospitable landscape full of suffering, hopelessness and sadness. Of the individual episodes, the ones that stick out in my mind the most are those with the shameless Jitka Čvančarová, the transport of the Jews and the raid on the village. Although the film is nearly three hours long, it went by really fast in the cinema. As noted, the film lacks music alongside the colours - unless you counts the church scenes and the subtitles – which is a bit of a shame, as there is little dialogue and the music could have filled in and enhanced these quiet spots. (18/09/2019)

I think the controversy over The Painted Bird is largely an inflated bubble, and I think those leaving audiences in Venice were leaving mainly because they were bored and it wasn't the film for them, it's just that when someone asked them the reason, they just didn't want to be embarrassed and made excuses for the unbearable brutality and that was that. I'm not saying the film is a pleasant spectacle, it's certainly not, but it's a great spectacle and Václav Marhoul has a point. So while there are ugly things happening on screen, there's almost never a need to show them directly in an attempt to shock as much as possible; many times the silence before the storm is even more uncomfortable, or the mere sound of something just happening out of frame. Perhaps what I like most about The Painted Bird, though, is that it's entirely a world film, even though it doesn't try to be one. It’s not exhibitionistic, it remains focused on telling the sordid tale of a journey from darkness to light, aided by excellent actors as much as by Vladimír Smutný's breathtaking cinematography and Marhoul's beauteous direction. It's not for everyone, but that's okay. (16/09/2019)