Vtáckovia, siroty a blázni
- 1h 18min
Three adolescent war orphans seclude themselves in an anarchic and playful existence of denial and juvenile joy.Three adolescent war orphans seclude themselves in an anarchic and playful existence of denial and juvenile joy.Three adolescent war orphans seclude themselves in an anarchic and playful existence of denial and juvenile joy.
Watching the bawdy and increasingly surrealistic ménage à trois between gamine Marta (Magda Vasaryova) handsome, self-destructive Yorick (Jiri Sykora) and the besotted, naive photographer Andrew (Philippe Avron) I couldn't help but recall the similarly galvanizing love attraction in Truffaut's immortal 'Jules et Jim', sharing an equally spirited, non-conformist approach to narrative, but with 'Birds, Orphans and Fools' I frequently 'felt' far more of the film than objectively understood it, which overall made it so much more of a fascinating existential experience.
The three young, altogether disparate adolescent lovers cavort uproariously, drink, make love and act the goat with a genuinely joyful abandon; their desperately draughty, wholly derelict love nest, abounding in cheery chaos; sharing their intimacies with an omnipresent flock of ceaselessly twitching birds, and all this increasing, boisterously choreographed tumult careening to a rather grim conclusion that caught me totally unawares. I shall leave any profound political analysis to those with a more scholastic background, but for me, Czech visionary Juraj Jakubisko's exhilarating, disorientatingly kaleidoscopic film is both a deliciously psychedelic mind bomb and a winningly sensuous elegiac trip into an expressive, boldly uninhibited vista that one only really sees in the more exploratory examples of transgressive 60s cinema.
'Birds, Orphans and Fools' is an altogether edifying rush of hyperbolic celluloid pleasure, not unlike 'Daisies' & 'Valerie and her week of Wonders', fellow Slovak fabulist Jakubisko's restless, vivid imagery percolates drug-like in the reeling mind long after the celluloid reels have concluded spinning. I don't know exactly what it is about 60s & 70s Czech cinema that makes them so uniquely captivating, but so many of them have a singularly expressive, darkly mesmerizing melancholic beauty, being frequently blessed with the most extraordinarily mellifluous and exciting soundtracks, and Zdenek Liska's gorgeously uplifting baroque themes are a constant delight!
- Apr 10, 2021