Czech films - full length

For five years, Andrea Culková tracked a unique political experiment: around 800 Europeans of different generations – students, workers and senior citizens – selected at random were given the chance to decide on the future of the continent within the European Parliament. The confrontation between determined citizens and cautious political elites lays bare the mechanisms of a system that may itself be the cause of many of today’s crises. The author interweaves her analytical observations with performative rituals, black humour and broader reflections on whether we will be able to bring about the necessary changes before the state of democracy and the environment reaches the point of no return. “Let‘s make a Copernican shift from United Nations to united people.”

If only one could have the perfect relationship, thousands of likes on Instagram, a successful career and, ideally, fairer skin. Young men and women from different social backgrounds, living in Seoul, New Delhi and Nairobi, are united by the same goal: they all want to “shine”. Martin Páv’s visually dazzling documentary deconstructs the phenomenon of physical attractiveness as a norm of global capitalism. The film offers a glimpse into the private lives of people caught in the web of social expectations and the pressure to be perfect. Behind their obsession with their own appearance, however, lies a deeper identity crisis and a search for an answer to the question of whether there is still any room for us to be ourselves in today’s interconnected world.“When they make cosmetic commercials in Vietnam, they say: You can be as light-skinned as the Koreans.”

In British Columbia-one of the most sparsely populated regions of the Western world- wildfires have become an everyday part of life. Local communities are marked by substance abuse, violence, and traces of absence are everywhere: in the burned forests and along roadsides lined with posters of missing persons. Nikola Klinger has made a film about people facing complex challenges who nonetheless believe in a better future. By weaving together the interconnected lives of the locals, the film creates a layered portrait of the landscape and the people’s bond with the wilderness, its magic and its myths. Residents live in the shadow of unsolved deaths and the disappearances of young people, finding an escape from their troubles in community solidarity and modern-day rituals, such as the demolition derby at the local wreck yard. “There is something alive out there in the bush; you can feel it, but you can't see it.”

What mark does a life devoted to art leave on family relationships? Blanka Kulová is editing a film about her father, Vlastimil Kula, a well-known Czech photographer of nudes and erotic images, whose monograph was published by the renowned Taschen publishing house. However, rather than a celebratory portrait of the artist, the result is an intimate confrontation between father and daughter. In candid conversations, they revisit their parents’ divorce, painful childhood memories and a sense of abandonment that Blanka shares with her younger siblings. Despite their recriminations and the long-standing misunderstandings between them, there is no shortage of humour, mutual affection or a willingness to find a way back to one another. Most of the film is set in a country cottage, which Kula is gradually renovating; here he photographs young models and reflects on his own work. However, his former fame is fading, and, paradoxically, it is his daughter who helps him find a curator for a new exhibition. The film unflinchingly reveals the conflict between artistic self-realisation and responsibility towards loved ones. At the same time, it captures the delicate process of two people growing closer as they attempt to understand their shared past. “I am an artist – not an ordinary person.”

Both poems and mushrooms conceal their essence beneath the surface. The poet and mushroom hunter Petr Hruška knows this all too well. His portrait unfolds to the rhythm of everyday life, as he spends time with family and friends, fries mushrooms or strolls through the streets of Ostrava, reminiscing about the now-defunct 24-hour bars. His participation in literary events both at home and abroad is characterised by the same effortless ease. Ordinary situations and encounters form the backdrop for Hruška’s reflections on ageing, the turbulent geopolitical situation, and the ability to open up to others. Although the moments from the poet’s life are in no way stylised, the observant camera transforms many of them into poetic images. “All art is vandalism, because it destroys the established order and seeks to create a new one.”

Gorki Águila is the frontman of the Cuban punk band Porno para Ricardo. Due to his opposition to the communist regime, he has faced censorship, harassment and imprisonment. But after a quarter of a century of defiance, fatigue is setting in. Hana Jakrlová’s documentary looks behind the mask of the unrepentant rebel. The film follows the musician during his forced exile in Mexico, as he sings anti-regime songs and reflects nostalgically on his homeland. His daily struggle to get by and his preparations for a concert in Prague are interspersed with archive footage of banned concerts. Despite his uprootedness and powerlessness, however, Gorki intends to continue his struggle until the dictatorship falls. “The band is called after our good friend Ricardo. He is an artist and he loves porn.”

This hybrid experiment blending documentary and fiction begins as a survey about petty shoplifting. Yet what starts as a relatively sober analysis of the systemic redistribution of surplus goods soon mutates into a conspiratorial sci-fi narrative, in which paranoid young protagonists discover connections between cryptozoology, technofeudalism and cosmic entities. With its distinctive lo-fi aesthetic, the film places the logic of contemporary consumerism on a par with the irrational belief in extraterrestrials. But what if a return to myths and magical thinking is actually the most effective form of collective resistance to today’s global crises? “Why do we have to save the world?”

A family of three from Iran has now spent thirteen years in exile in Turkey. Kian, Hamid and Hananeh left their homeland to escape the Iranian Revolutionary Guards. However, the promised asylum in the US remains a distant prospect, and even their last glimmer of hope is fading in the wake of the US elections. Director Farzad Khoshdast’s melancholic observational documentary captures their daily routine – from cleaning and working in a factory to visiting nightclubs and watching news reports of unrest in their homeland. The film thus offers an intimate insight into the lives of people trapped in a peculiar limbo, far enough from the state’s reach to be safe, yet too close to overcome their homesickness and build a new life. “You’re right. We can’t go to the USA or anywhere else. What’s your plan?”

Three female directors, three contaminated sites, three markedly different aesthetic approaches. The “triangle of death” in eastern Slovakia, formed by three local chemical plants, the tar pits in Predajná and Bratislava’s Vrakuňa, from where toxins spread towards Žitný ostrov (literally “Rye Island”) – the largest drinking water reservoir in Central Europe. This hybrid trilogy flows seamlessly from an investigative thriller and meditative essay on the relationship between the human and the non-human to a dystopian animated documentary. A report on systemic paralysis, the exhaustion of the local population and the inaction of politicians simultaneously evolves into a reflection on a future in which we may have no choice but to connect to a virtual mycelium. “People are tired. They don’t want to talk about it anymore, certainly not on camera, they don’t want to solve the problem. They don’t even want to protest – they are exhausted. We want to start this discussion again. That’s our ambition.” — producer Anna Mach Rumanová, Variety

Doubts about her own past and the collapse of her former certainties lead Ukrainian director Kateryna Ruzhyna to revisit old amateur videos. As she looks back on her childhood in Zaporizhzhia, she discovers traces of Russian cultural influence and subjects her own memory to a process of decolonisation. This retrospective element is complemented by uncensored interviews from her time in exile in Prague. Together with friends from Ukraine and Russia, she asks whether it is possible to maintain friendships when one’s home countries are at war. This self-reflective essay on the search for a balance between the personal and the political makes room for vulnerability, anger and formal experimentation. “Life is about understanding what we can change, what we cannot change, and knowing how to tell the difference.”