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Kolja (1996)
This uplifting Czech drama was the deserved winner of the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film for 1996 (beating, among others, Berit Nesheim's Sřndagsengler). The film tells the story of František Louka (Zdeněk Svěrák), a seasoned bachelor and classical cellist who in late 1980s Prague agrees to a sham marriage with a Soviet woman to make some money, and suddenly finds himself stuck with the woman's five-year-old son, Kolja. As directed by 31-year-old wunderkind Jan Svěrák (Obecná škola) and written by his father and star Zdeněk Svěrák, the film is a simple, conventionally told story – but what beautiful conventionality. The story is so down-to-earth and lovable, and the imagery so atmospheric, that we're more than willing to accept the Svěráks' maudlin plea. The unlikely companionship between the ageing womaniser who detests all things Soviet and little Kolja, who is Russian without even knowing it, becomes art-based hatchet-burying in practice. And if you for a moment or two feel you're being lured into your emotional responses, you're quickly brought back to justified bliss by little Andrei Chalimon, whose performance is so pure (and arguably unwitting) that it cannot be faulted. Jan Svěrák's confident, clever direction catches Chalimon in all sorts of authentic situations, and the sensitive Zdeněk accompanies and supports him wonderfully. The film blends sentimental passages with distinct Czech peculiarities and occasional slapstick – all backdropped by sensible, underplayed political criticism. The Svěráks communicate proudly that they are patriots, but not nationalists. Despite their sadness for the historical difficulties, they are first and foremost hopeful for the future – a sentiment that is perfectly illustrated through their little Russian charmer. Copyright © 08.02.1998
Fredrik Gunerius Fevang |
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