Jan Hus - film

in Meet Factory, 25th November 2009

 

This was a DVD screening for four people in the middle of a large factory hall. The film, shot in 8 mm, now filled the big screen, much of it was dark, trembling, abrupt. All this, combined with very loud sound, was source of much physical and some mental discomfort by the concluding stages of the film. And yet it is an outstanding work in many respects. When I first heard the film was being made my primary question was "is it blasphemous?". With hindsight this sounds all the more idiotic. Jan Hus is, or once was, blasphemy personified - all three men, who are at the centre of attention of this cinematographic "mass" and who had also died by fire, were equally deemed insane or even criminal by their surroundings. So - of course it is blasphemous. It would, however, be easy (if tasteless) to turn the whole issue into a joke (and there are quite a few popular jokes which automatically associate "burning" with "Hus", creating a stale impression of humour), to ridicule Hus himself and his historical and political image, especially at the hands of a non-conformist, an experimentator, an avantgardist - whichever vague and meaningless term comes to mind. But this film is full of passion. It is ironic, too - no orthodox Hus admirer could stand, so I think, the liberties Bambušek takes. His Hus is a bald, ageing guy, folksy, fatherly in the ghostly sense, yet he does not cease to be a fiery speaker, an avenger, man of fury. His disciples (for the want of a better word) are also people driven by, well, love, and when they act they act out of love, not out of spite. What we see is an alternative reality; while information about the protagonists is read in a dry, matter-of-fact style (they are, after all, real people), the locations, the characters, the situations suggest a deeply subjective, very much involved angle taken by the maker. This is a monstrous close up of an unknown whole, a look through a walled-up window. No voyuerism, no attempt at eliciting compassion. These men felt compassionate with us. You look at yourself through your own eyes, you look at them through theirs, caring little that both points of view are impossible to achieve. Ideas are greatly exposed when placed against the backdrop of a game. This film plays at reality, helping to create it (as ever: there is no other reality than that which we, all  together, create). As every game, it is ritual, its calling itself a "mass" is, I believe, justified. This is the film crew that should have attempted the film version of Topol's novel Sestra. This is love without compromise.

A special mention should be made of an actor by the very exotic name of Passi Mokele (no language in the world seems to sport this name), who is not only a fine actor, but can sing and dance, too.