Calamity

Director:
Věra Chytilová
Year:
1980

About film

After an enforced seven-year break, Věra Chytilová could start directing feature films again in 1976, when she made The Apple Game (Hra o jablko). Instead of at Barrandov Studio, she was allowed to make her sarcastic sociological probe at Krátký film. We will only find Barrandov in the credits of Panelstory or Birth of a Community (Panelstory aneb Jak se rodí sídliště, 1979) and Calamity (Kalamita, 1980), which were essentially made in parallel. All three films were marked by difficulties in their development, shooting, and screening. Nevertheless, they still resonated very well with audiences despite their limited distribution, thanks to being uncompromisingly critical of the moral distortion of both the individual and society.

Like PanelstoryCalamity is an amusing parable with elements of civic satire. Instead of jumping back and forth between several characters inhabiting one space-time, here the narrative focuses on one protagonist – a young graduate who starts working for the railways. Honza (Bolek Polívka) has not yet internalized the rules of the new environment, and his juniority underscores the conformism and stereotypes governing the lives of his superiors and colleagues.

Rendered without much psychological depth, Polívka’s novice is rather an observer who is only settling in and mirroring the different moral stances of people he meets. With his disorientation, unpreparedness, and slight defiance of the constricting rules, he gradually exposes the incompetence of the management, and the system’s resulting malfunctioning. Even though most people he encounters complain about the status quo, they do nothing to change it.

Everything starts with the door handle left in Honza’s hand when he first comes to work („Before I realized it, I was no longer lucky“), and also the subsequent episodes making up the plot in a relatively loose order are smaller or larger calamities. The narrative is not only fragmentary, it is also disrupted by the frenetic shooting, insertions of short cutaways between longer, clear shots and omitting breaks between shots. Before one scene ends, another one with a new action starts.

Like the other films by Věra Chytilová, Calamity doesn’t give us a moment’s peace to simply sit back, follow the causal chain of events and enjoy the witty lines exposing the emptiness and ineffectiveness of the slogans of the time („traditions must be observed“). With its ability to „mobilize“ the viewer, it is different from the comedies of the same period with a more traditional narrative style, which didn’t rip the viewers out of their conformist position, but rather reassured them with its form that nothing was amiss and it was all right as such.

The test whether Honza would stand in the new working environment culminates with his first ride at the end of the film. During the ride, the train is buried under an avalanche. The minor personal calamities are suddenly interrupted by one from above going beyond the individuals and compelling them to leave the positions they had comfortably settled in. The stuck passengers lose their tempers and inhibitions, exposing different mechanisms of dealing with a crisis through their actions (or passivity, for that matter).

The failing communication, inability to seek a constructive solution and poor work ethic, elements of which we have witnessed throughout the film, are now turning against the characters. Some people panic, some complain about the disruption of their comfort, others passively wait to be saved… luckily, a handful of people realize one cannot rely on external help. Assuming responsibility, they organize their own rescue operation. The first to be brought to safety over a bridge of human bodies are children, symbolizing in the last shot a chance for a new, better beginning.

If the characters make it out alive in the end, they do so despite the system, and not thanks to it. In the film where the individual scenes are connected through parallels rather than causalities (Chytilová already used this narrative style in her debut Something Different (O něčem jiném, 1963)), it is no surprise that this is a variation of an earlier situation. When early in the film Honza wants to order beer in the dining car, the arrogant waiter cuts him off saying he first had to have a meal. A woman sitting close to him, who has already eaten, thus orders beer for the entire car. In a world of meaningless, limiting rules, the only hope is solidarity and self-sufficiency – even if only in relation to a bottle of beer. This was true during the normalization period (1968–1989), just as it is today.  

The dining car scene follows after Honza’s walking through the train during the opening credits, with close-ups of passengers eating their own food. These are deliberately exaggerated images of „healthy earthlingness“[1], the concept of which Chytilová was constantly criticizing in her normalization-era works. In the consolidated normalization society, moral ideals and personal freedom are subordinate to the requirement of a peaceful life and happy consumption.

Selfishly putting themselves first, everyone is indifferent to public affairs at least until they start interfering with their peace. Honza views the omnipresent cynicism and opportunism with amusement and stays on top of it. It seems that for the young hero, having casual flings is enough to „fulfil himself“, at least sexually. For a member of such an apathetic society, there is no other painless form of revolt and return to one’s authentic self.

Based on a newspaper article about a train buried under an avalanche in the United States, the Calamity screenplay was a „shelf warmer“ in the Barrandov studio. When the main Czechoslovak film dramaturgist Ludvík Toman offered it to Chytilová, he might have hoped that she would refuse the challenging winter shooting as well. However, he underestimated the filmmaker’s determination.

In any case, Chytilová demanded several changes to the original subject matter, which celebrated the heroism of the Public Security forces in saving all the passengers in the end. The working environment remained preserved; however, contrary to other normalization films, in Calamity this does not only represent the conditions and relationships in a particular workplace, but rather any failing management system; for instance, the state.

The director shifted the emphasis to Honza and his relationships, mainly with women. His romantic fumbling around reflects his search for a role in life in which he could find satisfaction, even fulfilment:

„I essentially saw the story as an account of his day: he starts a new job and is getting familiar with it. He meets several people who either like him or don’t, and the same is true for the girls he encounters. The original screenplay had a happy ending; I rather focused on the train – I was interested in this environment as I am very familiar with it, coming from a railway station. So, I included this in the film and I even cast my uncle, who was an innkeeper just like my father and had an attachment to railways.“[2]

Calamity was made in Miroslav Hladký’s dramaturgic team. Divided into five phases, the film was shot over the winters of 1978 and 1979. Even though Chytilová was working with the technical screenplay, including all critical comments and censorship interventions, she didn’t strictly adhere to it and let the actors – who, in the spirit of the New Wave veristic approach, were a contrastive mixture of professionals and non-actors (among them was the jazz trumpet player Laco Déczi) – improvise.

In addition to the weather and either too much or too little snow, the shooting was also disrupted by illnesses. The flu gradually disabled basically the entire crew, which was used as a pretext by the Barrandov studio to interrupt the shooting. It was because Bolek Polívka was supposed to film Ballad for a Bandit (Balada pro banditu, 1978) in Karlovy Vary, which had to be produced before the Karlovy Vary Film Festival. During the enforced break, Chytilová started filming Panelstory. Only when it was finished did she complete Calamity. When she presented the final edited version, the censors requested several changes. The director only agreed to half of them. She managed to defend the rest despite the problematic ideological message.

Taking into account the high costs of winter filming and deferred shooting, the Barrandov studio management had little choice but to release the film to recover the costs. Even though released without an advertising campaign – and in the Rudé právo daily, Jan Kliment condemned it for its ugliness and negativism – viewers took every opportunity to see it. The counter-reaction was not long in coming, and the screening of Calamity was forbidden in Prague.

The management of the nationalized film industry acted like the man in the buried train asking the woman sitting across from him to silence her child, who was innocently asking: „When are we going to die in this grave?“ Věra Chytilová was also seen as a persona non grata as she repeatedly preferred the truth over comfort and was saying things others didn’t want to hear, minding their comfort.

Martin Šrajer


Notes:

[1] Viz Jaromír Blažejovský, Jaromír, Zdraví pozemšťané. Tři poznámky k duchovním souřadnicím normalizační kultury. In Kopal, Petr. Film a dějiny 4. Normalizace. Praha: Casablanca; Ústav pro studium totalitních režimů 2014. pp. 377–396.

[2] Tomáš Pilát, Tomáš, Věra Chytilová zblízka. Praha: XYZ 2010, p. 227.

Filmographic data

director:
Věra Chytilová

screenwriter:
Josef Šilhavý, Věra Chytilová

cinematography:
Ivan Šlapeta

music:
Laco Déczi

cast:
Bolek Polívka, Dagmar Bláhová, Zdeněk Svěrák, Václav Švorc, Antonín Kubálek, Bronislav Poloczek, Štěpán Kučera, Jana Synková

Filmové studio Barrandov, 96 min.

Reviews

“The plot is not important; the story is held together by the main character and the inner meaning of the seemingly fragmented scenes. There has been talk of complexity, of levels, even of philosophy, but fear not, Calamity is a really funny comedy, perfectly understandable, even folksy in the best sense. Basic philosophical questions are answered in passing between soup and stew.”

Oldřich Knitl, Záběr 15, 1982, no. 6, p. 4.

 

“The character of Jan became perfectly inhabited by the mime Boleslav Polívka, who, in addition to his extraordinary comedic mastery, was able to integrate himself into a very realistic position in the story, very different from many of his theatrical roles.”

Pavel Melounek, Zemědělské noviny 38, 04/02/1982, no. 29, p. 2.

 

“With Chytilová, it is not about the absurdity of the whole situation, but about how to get out of it, how to bring initially indifferent people together in this positive effort. Here, too, characters and figures parade, especially in the setting of almost Hrabal-like inns, somewhat satirically presented railway offices and lodgings, but we still believe, we tell ourselves that we have seen something like this somewhere before.”

Miroslav Zůna, Film a doba 28, 1982, no. 5, p. 267.

 

“The hero, as played by Boleslav Polívka, introduces us a unique human specimen who lives in a kind of holy distance within a tangle of petty corruption, trickery, nepotism, life’s double-crosses and endorsements, all this everyday street coarseness. Most of the time, he is humorously appeasing, even jive-ass-like, sometimes downright stoic. Sometimes he is a provocative observer; not an intellectual with a scholarly language of formulas and definitions, but rather a thoughtful yet naive seeker of life’s meaning. And also a handsome victim of variously motivated female dissatisfaction and aggression (the senior doctor, the athlete, the conductor), a smiling loser who is still mesmerized by the complexity of the world and is searching, sometimes quite hopelessly, for the right word for it, which means that many people do not understand him, especially the officials – those in favour of the strict language of regulations.”

Jiří Cieslar, bulletin of the Prague Film Club (Pražský filmový klub), June 1984.

Visuals

Videos

Calamity or Winter in the Railroad Earth

With the title of this review, paraphrasing the title of a short story by Jack Kerouac, I point out what holds together the seemingly fragmented and chaotic world of Věra Chytilová’s film Calamity (Kalamita, 1980). For one, it is both a classic natural comforter, but also a punisher – with the snow that covers it from the very first moment to the last one and keeps it in the unchanging wintry, paralysing, and, finally, surprisingly mobilizing temperature and atmosphere. For another, it is the railway line that runs through it. Although it is observed with inconsistency and with the viewer’s reluctance to “spatially” focus on it, it is nevertheless present intensely enough to play the role of an inconspicuous, yet almost always visible skeleton in the film’s structure, which the plot situations hang on. The peculiar “dramaturgy of the railway” not only serves as a welcome prop for the story, but also as the main starting point for it.

It is to this railway, the skinny hero named Jan Dostál gets sent by the author of the subject-matter, co-screenwriter Josef Šilhavý, and Chytilová; Dostál, who has dropped out of university for reasons not entirely clear and is full of a new determination to undergo a martyrdom of explanations, persuasion, various interviews, exams and inferior trainings in order to pursue the profession of a train driver. He is not, however, a straightforward pathos-of-life-loving work fanatic like author Vladimír Páral’s young man yearning for the white whale; Boleslav Polívka introduces us a unique human specimen who lives in a kind of holy distance within the tangle of petty corruption, trickery, nepotism, life’s double-crosses and endorsements, all this everyday street coarseness. Most of the time, he is humorously appeasing, even jive-ass-like, sometimes downright stoic. Sometimes he is a provocative observer; not an intellectual with a scholarly language of formulas and definitions (à la Zdeněk Svěrák’s gloomy teacher), but rather a thoughtful yet naive seeker of life’s meaning. And also a handsome victim of variously motivated female dissatisfaction and aggression (the senior doctor, the athlete, the conductor), a smiling loser who is still mesmerized by the complexity of the world (the scene at the eye doctor’s) and is searching, sometimes quite hopelessly, for the right word for it, which means that many people do not understand him, especially the officials – those in favour of the strict language of regulations.

It is noteworthy how Chytilová cleverly blurs the hero’s “railway journey” for our eyes; how from this narrative backbone, she opens glimpses into various closed situations, cleverly portraying the railway earth. It is actually a series of skits (the scene in the dining car), gags almost derived from the silent cinema era (waiters’ falls, people dancing unintentionally in the snow and on footbridges), chilling satirical numbers (like “in line at the butcher’s”), ridiculous love dialogues, verbal clowning (Polívka’s terse soliloquies), and also isolated micro-sequences – wordless études, where Laco Déczi’s aggressive music underlies a spray of flickering shots, approximating the protagonist’s momentary way of perceiving the world. On the whole, these are grotesque performances elevated above the level of ordinary satirical scenes, both in terms of the vigorous presentation (thanks to, for example, Brožek’s aggressive editing, Šlapeta’s unnerving camera movement, and the otherwise unadorned language of the dialogues with their richly nuanced intonation of speech – note the affected diction of Jana Synková as the senior doctor), or in terms of the director’s ability to see the underlying connections in the cluster of images.

With this in mind, we can compare Calamity with Věra Chytilová’s previous film Panelstory or Birth of a Community (Panelstory aneb Jak se rodí sídliště, 1979). There was the hot-blooded movement of housing estate dwellers settling into a new block of flats; it was a world frayed to the last nerve, a seething cauldron of hurt and humiliated human feelings and dignity. Whereas in the space of Calamity, everyone has long since settled in and every adjustment brings along a drop in temperature. For Calamity, that is a hypothermic Story from a Housing Estate, that is a housing estate after months or even years (the time here is irrelevant), in short a kind of housing estate under the snow, with people, many of whom have decided to “make their own arrangements” in a calamity situation, to “become independent when it comes to their housing situation,” each according to their personal egoism, some with an exploiting and self-satisfied disregard for others (the philosophy of Poloczek’s butcher), some with a desperately short-sighted vision of private success (Dagmar Bláhová’s athlete). There is also a lot of old-fashioned modest good-naturedness (the hero’s father; the old woman on the train), cleverness, though a little bitter (the senior doctor), and the charm of self-growth (Laco Déczi’s railwayman). Jan Dostál, the main protagonist, also necessarily belongs to this world disconnected into a range of different personal emergency programmes of hibernation, but he is still refusing to “move in” and settle. And so, while most of the others are uninventively withdrawn into themselves, as told by the railway metaphor of Šlapeta’s camera, firmly “stuck in their compartment,” the hero walks through the train and looks around (see the opening journey of the ‘shaky’ subjective camera through the interior of the train, substituting the hero’s gaze): he is travelling in a deep sense of the word, which is anything but a mere one-way movement through the landscape. It is being “on the track.”

Věra Chytilová concludes Calamity in an original way: she places her characters in a single carriage, which is buried by an avalanche, and in the final poeticized scene she lets them experience the joy of a kind of playful self-help. The light of the main protagonist’s altruism spills out to the other “passengers” for a moment, and this is a great moment over which even the harsh nature comes to a standstill: at that moment the snowing stops in the calamitous landscape and the wind dies down...

Jiří Cieslar

bulletin of the Prague Film Club (Pražský filmový klub), June 1984.