The Painted Bird

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. (03/09/2021)

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)

I don’t watch Czech films these days, they don’t interest me and I don’t see in them anything original and authorial in terms of style and narration (when I happen to stumble upon them on TV). The Painted Bird is not the revolutionary and morally questionable movie the initial responses made us believe, but it’s nonetheless honest, intimate and thoughtful filmmaking of the kind other domestic productions can not match. There have been comparisons with Tarkovsky or Markéta Lazarová, but I wouldn't go that far; Marhoul is more sober and more naturalistic, and also more accessible from a narrative standpoint. The black and white composition is an understandable and correct step for such bleak material, while the taciturnity combined with the overuse of details and the sparse editing allow for a deeper immersion of the viewer in the atmosphere so they can be ready to react with empathy to all the horrors in front of them, which the camera tastefully hides most of the time, so the story will not feel gratuitously violent. The narration consists of simply intertwined episodes with the unifying motif of the complex development of the protagonist – complex only in the sense that each chapter shapes a different side of Jošek's personality and gives him experiences that help him grow up in that terrible environment without real love. Otherwise, the development is not too surprising, Marhoul relies mainly on changing of moral environments, which take second place to the objective statements of the cruelty of war, the misery associated to it and the religious fanaticism of the predominantly rural civilians. It is a pity that in the episodic structure this secondary function gradually becomes stronger than the repeated suffering of the main character. Overall, however, I must praise it, The Painted Bird looks beautiful, it doesn’t get boring despite its runtime and the repetitiveness, the performances and the casting of the repulsive village folk are perfect (even I could have had a small role), and it presents big ideas and a cruel vision of human nature with a strong author’s signature (though I couldn’t avoid laughing when I heard the Wilhelm Scream when someone fell off a horse). A case of impressive filmmaking that may not have that huge an impact on savvy viewers despite its great ambitions, but that with every shot and scene it screams that it should be taken seriously here and abroad – and that, fortunately, it doesn’t get too annoying even after two hours. (09/12/2019)

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. (09/18/2019)

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. (03/22/2022)