Event of the week - “I Served the English King” (Obsluhovl jsem anglickeno krale, 2006) by the 70-year-old classic of Prague Spring cinema Jiri Menzel, a film adaptation of the novel by one of the best Czech writers Bohumil Hrabal (February 25, “Culture”, 23.15, ** **). In 1966, their collaboration brought Menzel an Oscar for the lyrical war tragicomedy Closely Watched Trains. Since then, unlike many of his peers, Menzel has not lost at all his specific Czech humor, his spicy love of life, or his interest in the history of the 20th century, seen through the eyes of a “little man.” This time the waiter Jan is experiencing the upheaval of Czech history. He seems to be a pure opportunist, and during the years of the German occupation even a collaborator, but somehow one cannot raise one’s hand to condemn him. He has a roguish charm, his scams have a naive artistry: his career begins with the fact that, while selling sausages at a stop, he counts out his change so slowly that he “doesn’t have time” to count it out before the train moves off. Starting with the pennies appropriated in this way, he would become a millionaire, but as luck would have it in 1948, when the communists seized power and sent the nouveau riche to a camp. Menzel, of course, shares Jan's love for women, but in the piquant scenes, especially the scene of the wonderful "erotic banquet", there is not a drop of senile voyeurism. And when Menzel plays with the texture of film, suddenly switching to the language of silent cinema, one feels that the work still gives him sincere pleasure. The second event is “Mongol” (2007) by Sergei Bodrov, a film about the early years of Genghis Khan, which very worthy represents Kazakhstan in the Oscar final (February 24, “Russia”, 20.20, ***). This is an ideal, albeit cold, “Eurasian” product that is unlikely to evoke emotions. Each frame is built almost according to the laws of classical painting. The footage of the steppes is breathtakingly beautiful. And even the final battle scene, the specificity of which is obviously explained by the lack of funds, seems like a director’s find: the battle takes place in the darkness of a solar eclipse. The aesthetic “ice” is melted only by the character of the named brother, and then the enemy of Genghis Khan. Shaving his head with a sharp saber, sporting an earring in his ear and brocade robes, with constantly laughing eyes, he seems to come from some other film, ironically referring to the bloody passions of the steppes. As a matter of fact, the hero becomes Genghis Khan only in the finale. And before that, oddly enough, he resembles the hero of Sergei Bodrov’s early film “SIR”. Like the boy from the old film, young Genghis Khan runs all the time, ends up from one prison to another and is saved only by the dream of world domination. He is so absorbed in his mission that he does not even waste unnecessary emotions when he learns, after being rescued from yet another captivity, that during his many years of absence his loving wife managed to give birth to children. He would like to sympathize with him, as you sympathize with screen losers, but his dream does not evoke any sympathy. And this is perhaps the only fundamental reproach that can be brought against this rare example of great historical cinema these days.

Newspaper "Kommersant St. Petersburg" No. 30 dated February 22, 2008, p. 3

Authors:

Mikhail Trofimenkov

Telekino with Mikhail Trofimenkov