322 (1969)
Genre: Drama
Director: Dušan Hanák
Starring: Václav Lohniský , Lucyna Winnicka , Josef Abrhám , Ferdinand Mazal , Zdenek Blažek , Miroslav Machácek
Language: Slovak
Duration: 95 min.
Summary:
A psychological drama contrasting the illness of an individual with the illness of the society.
322 is the debut feature film from Slovak director Dušan Hanák, based on a short story by Ján Johanides. It was banned before release but not before premiering at the 1969 Mannheim-Heidelberg International Film Festival, where it shared the Grand Prize with two time Academy Award winning cinematographer Haskell Wexler's early directorial effort Medium Cool.
The story follows aging Mr. Lauko (Václav Lohniský), diagnosed with cancer but the doctors do not tell him so. There's only the code number 322, and an order to stay home and rest. With his new found spare time, and suspecting that the end is near, he takes the time to reflect on the mistakes and regrets in his life. We are never told exactly what Lauko did in the past, but it's inferred that he was involved with the forced collectivization process in the 50s, and that he sorely regrets his role in all of that.
This is a powerfully atmospheric film, unmistakably influenced by both the French and Czech New Wave styles. Featuring a series of short scenes, many of which are introduced by cheeky titles describing an object, character, or theme of the scene. Themes which are often bleak, but full of poetic imagery and striking visuals.
There are scenes of Lauko at work as a chef, in a slaughterhouse, visiting the doctor, going to the bar, traveling to the country to find his mother's grave, and his interactions with random people he meets. One important figure is an odd young man with long curly hair named Vladko (Vladimír Weiser), who walks around everywhere with his ID number written on the back of his coat. There's also a subplot featuring Lauko's ex-wife, who he still shares a flat with, Marta (Polish actress Lucyna Winnicka), and her much younger boyfriend Petr (Josef Abrhám).
On the surface, Hanák explores the state of mind of the individual, probing existential questions and feelings of alienation using a multitude of experimental avant-garde techniques, such as quick cuts, montages of still photos, stop motion animation, and unique camera perspectives. However deep down it's really a critical examination of society at large, with freedom and choice being the main recurring theme.
It's no surprise that the authorities banned this film. A beautiful yet bittersweet soundtrack, composed by jazz musician Ladislav Gerhardt, underscores the free flowing narrative where topics of divorce, abortion, and suicide play significant parts. The character of Vladko—who reminds me very much of Takeshi Kaneshiro in Wong Kar Wai's Chungking Express and Fallen Angels, is it possible that Cop #223 is a reference to this film's title, 322?—seems to represent the good that can come from a chaotic life without rules and strict order. There's also a bizarre sequence where an unseen big-brotherly voice is heard over loudspeakers admonishing random pedestrians for jaywalking or smoking in the street.
In addition to all that, it also provides another wonderful brief travel back in time, with lots of documentary-like footage of life in Slovakia in the 60s. A time of unparalleled cinematic expression that this film is yet another shining example of.
The story follows aging Mr. Lauko (Václav Lohniský), diagnosed with cancer but the doctors do not tell him so. There's only the code number 322, and an order to stay home and rest. With his new found spare time, and suspecting that the end is near, he takes the time to reflect on the mistakes and regrets in his life. We are never told exactly what Lauko did in the past, but it's inferred that he was involved with the forced collectivization process in the 50s, and that he sorely regrets his role in all of that.
This is a powerfully atmospheric film, unmistakably influenced by both the French and Czech New Wave styles. Featuring a series of short scenes, many of which are introduced by cheeky titles describing an object, character, or theme of the scene. Themes which are often bleak, but full of poetic imagery and striking visuals.
There are scenes of Lauko at work as a chef, in a slaughterhouse, visiting the doctor, going to the bar, traveling to the country to find his mother's grave, and his interactions with random people he meets. One important figure is an odd young man with long curly hair named Vladko (Vladimír Weiser), who walks around everywhere with his ID number written on the back of his coat. There's also a subplot featuring Lauko's ex-wife, who he still shares a flat with, Marta (Polish actress Lucyna Winnicka), and her much younger boyfriend Petr (Josef Abrhám).
On the surface, Hanák explores the state of mind of the individual, probing existential questions and feelings of alienation using a multitude of experimental avant-garde techniques, such as quick cuts, montages of still photos, stop motion animation, and unique camera perspectives. However deep down it's really a critical examination of society at large, with freedom and choice being the main recurring theme.
It's no surprise that the authorities banned this film. A beautiful yet bittersweet soundtrack, composed by jazz musician Ladislav Gerhardt, underscores the free flowing narrative where topics of divorce, abortion, and suicide play significant parts. The character of Vladko—who reminds me very much of Takeshi Kaneshiro in Wong Kar Wai's Chungking Express and Fallen Angels, is it possible that Cop #223 is a reference to this film's title, 322?—seems to represent the good that can come from a chaotic life without rules and strict order. There's also a bizarre sequence where an unseen big-brotherly voice is heard over loudspeakers admonishing random pedestrians for jaywalking or smoking in the street.
In addition to all that, it also provides another wonderful brief travel back in time, with lots of documentary-like footage of life in Slovakia in the 60s. A time of unparalleled cinematic expression that this film is yet another shining example of.
— Bonjour Tristesse
2 comments:
I feel this one's gonna depress me. I also think it'll still be a worthy watch. Just give it to me at the right time..
It's a little bit depressing but not as much as it looks.
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