PEARLS OF THE DEEP (CZECH REPUBLIC/1966/VARIOUS DIRECTORS)

Writer Bohumil Hrabal was arguably one of the driving forces behind the Czech New Wave, his novel Closely Observed Trains forming the basis of Jiří Menzel’s classic film of the same name. In the omnibus film Pearls of the Deep, five of the best-known Czech directors used Hrabal’s writings as inspiration for their own short films. First is Menzel’s Mr. Baltazar’s Death, in which a family day out at a motorcycle rally goes tragically awry. Jan Němec directs the second installment The Imposters, wherein two dying old men compete to impress the other with life experiences. Evald Schorm’s The House of Happiness features a superstitious insurance salesman who grows paranoid after an encounter with a bizarre artist. Věra Chytilová’s The Snack Bar portrays the aftermath of a woman’s suicide, while the final segment Romance, directed by Jiromil Jireš, charts the brief romance between a young man and a spirited gypsy girl.

What is most immediately noticeable about Pearls of the Deep is the demystification of morbid subjects such as death, a common theme to Czech cinema and literature. Menzel, Němec and Chytilová all make a point of treating death not as an end, but as a beginning of another form of life. Though certainly an interesting concept, the project is unfortunately too unbalanced to be a great representation of the Czech New Wave, with Schorm’s installation being the weakest (his King And Women might have been a better bet). Nonetheless, it is worth a view for Chytilová and Jireš’ films.

DIAMONDS OF THE NIGHT (CZECH REPUBLIC/1964/JAN NĚMEC)

Two unnamed boys in Nazi-occupied Czechoslovakia are seen fleeing from a train on its way to a concentration camp, gunshots heard behind them. Wide-eyed and full of fear, they rush through the woods, where they set up a temporary hut from branches and straw. The boys spend the next few days living purely on rain, air and adrenalin, growing ever closer to nature, until they happen across a farmhouse. One of the boys stumbles into the place without thinking, and we experience his train of thought as he stares into the eyes of the farmhouse’s resident, a timid housewife. In a panic, he reaches forth to steal a few slices of bread, and the boys continue their escape. Their petty crime is not without consequence however, as they soon encounter the stubborn local mercenaries who plan to execute them.

At 63 minutes, it’s quite a short jaunt vis-à-vis the emotional clout of the historical backdrop, and sometimes it feels as if it ought to have been longer (rather like this review). Much of the first two-thirds is wordless, allowing the striking images to tell the story. In fact, one of the bigger selling points of the film is its raw photography. Often handheld, the camera is simply another character, sharing in the urgency of the boys’ situation. An exemplary cinematic symbol – ants crawling over the skin – is used but not justified. Overall, Diamonds Of The Night is an intriguing little slice of post-WWII cinema, hugely ambitious but not entirely successful.