The Painted Bird

This film is saved by its black-and-white cinematography, framing and lighting, as well as by the depiction of the era with the right set designs and costumes. The narrative structure, however, is completely monotonous, devoid of any dramatic arc, artistic symbolism, more sophisticated editing techniques and internal emotional development, which could have been at least partially provided by (unfortunately completely absent) music. The Painted Bird misses most of what this type of film needs. The characters have well-chosen faces, but they only appear for a few minutes, barely speak and give nothing to the film. Their ugliness just contributes to the premature loss of the boy’s innocence in a nasty environment. And we come to understand that this loss is the point of the whole film only in the last few minutes, after almost three hours of monotonous stacking of the similarly looking and sounding episodes on top of each other. (09/13/2019)

Ideally, Czech cinematography should have a big, ambitious film like this at least a couple of times a year, so one The Painted Bird wouldn’t get such an aura. But we don’t have that and with this work Marhoul is objectively several streets head of any recent Czech competition, and they simply can’t catch him. A great and stylish film, world-class. I didn’t enjoy it enough for a five-star rating because it’s not really possible to “enjoy” it. It is exhausting, rather. But a well earned four starts, without any doubt. Now, to create a media aura around this film as if it was some sort of exploitation war horror movie is incredibly absurd. Sure, there are some horrible and monstrous things, but Marhoul approaches them with a lot of decency, with chastity almost. And if the hysterical responses from Venice are anything to go by, it's just that the snobs from these big festivals like to fall into cheap headlines ... and that crap will last. (09/12/2019)

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 :-) (05/17/2020)

The biggest problem is that the whole movie is cold as a dog's snout. The much-proclaimed (swooning festival-goers, women running out of the theater) and mentioned explicitnesses are only rarely impressive in their own right – for me the highlight was ironically the sumptuous camera shot at the beginning of the film, when the main character is launching a boat down the river and the camera takes the whole scene nicely from the surface of the river upward in a kind of "aerial arc". The problem might also be (for me) that I was expecting a completely different film. After the reviews from Venice I was expecting agony, but honestly only one single scene stuck with me a bit, the one from the barn (I won't spoil it, it takes place in the second half of the film and one of those involved is a crazy woman), otherwise everything kind of happened and I kept saying to myself: "Okay, we've ticked off non-consensual sex, next we'll have murder, then abuse, and what's next, Václav?" The film suffers terribly from its format, where it wants to be poetic on one hand (and in which it succeeds to some extent, thanks to the black and white imagery and some really nicely shot scenery) and at the same time convey a powerful and intimate message. "Storytelling through images" is an art in itself, but Marhoul has simply not yet grown there compared to the world's best. I've read in reviews that the biggest difference from the book is the lack of the main character's inner monologues. I dare say (and I haven't read the book) that if Marhoul had retained these at least in part, all of The Painted Bird could have had a much stronger emotional charge. In this film adaptation, there are "just" unpleasant things happening, with a young and "different" boy running around in between it all as he really just tries to survive and get back home (whatever that means). And the psychological evolution of the boy into his tougher self is so terribly cheaply rendered that it felt like downright shoddy work from Marhoul. The film has no proper psychological or emotional depth. There is, of course, a strong social motif, where the black and white shots of the demonic faces of the lifeless villagers are quite chilling. But the whole of The Painted Bird still suffers from a spasmodic episodicity that hopelessly undermines any more powerful lasting impression. Too bad; I'd like to give it more, but I just can't. Still, I must say that I doff my cap to Marhoul, because once again he has put us in a wider awareness than just from Aš to Krnov. The most emotional part of the whole film is that Slavic song in the closing credits. (09/24/2019)

A peasant road-movie, Roma, Volyň, a twisted The Hundred Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out of the Window and Disappeared or Forrest Gump? The Painted Bird has a little of each, but what it certainly isn't is a historical account, let alone a drama. It’s rather a collection of realistically possible events that are unrealistically glued into one story. It wouldn't be a problem if the situations Jožek gets into were varied and each of them would develop his character differently and move the plot somewhere. But, after a successful introduction, we are left with a repetitive parade of unfortunate episodes with elusive creatures, where the variations, as well as the emotions, are few, because with each subsequent cruel episode you paradoxically worry less about the hero. Kosinski's work is simply unrewarding to film, only a genius with a clear vision could squeeze something more coherent out of it. Marhoul merely retells it and the only genius on the set remains Smutný with his camera. (09/16/2019)