A REAL PLAY

The films of Petr Marek are an “improbable” fusion of seeming opposites: they are, at the same time, intuitive and analytical, random and well thought out, staged and documentary in nature, joyously humorous and melancholic, honest and self ironic. Petr Marek works largely with individuals that are close to him, people who share similar ideas and thoughts. Marek’s films are quite original in both Czech and international contexts due to their exceptional and playful montage style and their unique development of the independent film genre. Petr Marek (1974) usually shoots his films on video with minimal financial resources. This method allows for total independent production, free from grants, producers and distributors. The only one of his films to be “normally” distributed in movie theaters was the 2002 feature film, Love from Above. His other films are only available during special screenings and festivals. Many individuals attempt to create alternative cinema in “domestic” conditions, but sooner or later they join the established industry trend. Even experimental cinema, which is typified by this alternative model, possesses its own built-in I rigid standards. In contrast to this, Marek exercises creative freedom to evolve a personal ascetic, which lightly blends elements of both experimental and feature films, documentaries and essays. His personal style has no match in current audio-visual creation. Petr Marek began making films at the age of eight when his father lent him an 8mm camera. Marek and his two friends, Jiří Nebesky and Jiří Nezhyba, from Hranice na Morave elementary school, formed a creative trio and undertook many creative endeavors together. Unarclub, as the three called themselves, joined the Beruska improvisational theater group, as well as various musical groups and the film group Unarfilm. Between 1990 and 1997 Unarfilm has made dozens of short and medium length films as well as several full length features. Marek continued making films while he studied film science and since 2003 he has been a part of the faculty of directing as a professor at FAMU. Besides devoting himself to film, Marek also pursues other theatrical pursuits (the decadent theater Beruska, radio IVO, etc.) as well as a passion for music (MIDI LIDI, the Musical Kralicek, etc.). For Marek the unifying element between these three areas of concentration is a focus on improvisational performance. In his films, both acting and improvisation are important. Marek takes advantage of the moment; his ability to respond to the immediate reality of the set, filming and audio techniques, and the script and actors are evident in the distinctive quality of the final product. Marek’s films, based mostly on carefully orchestrated situations are also infused with unexpected, seemingly disparate scenes that move in diverging directions. These moments of chance and inspiration range from improvisational dialogue to scenes that have a distinctly documentary feel. For example the humorous scene with the baby rolling its father in Love from Above, has nothing to do with the subsequent development of the film itself but adds an element of exciting improvisation. Marek is also known to incorporate unexpected production mistakes, for example the rising kitchen work table in the film To Hell with my Dream (2001) becomes an important element of the film. Improvisation here does not mean incompetence or the submission to randomness, on the contrary it is a clearly defined choice made during the act of filming. I n 9 0 M i n u t e s i n Salingen (1995) we follow the actual creation process in real time, as the film becomes a live broadcast of sorts filled with a range of comic i n t e r l u d e s , a n d m o - ments that seem boring or clumsy, fraught with hesitation. The audience experiences a feeling of tension and anxiety as we are made aware of the filmmaking process itself and the possibility that all the elements may n o t c omb i n e to create something remarkable or entertaining. When the actors (P. Marek and J. Nezhyb) literarily stand in place, at a loss for words, shuffling their feet in front of a telephone booth we are struck with the realization that their indecision may not move the film plot forward. It dawns on us that the two friends, the telephone, and a taxi driving by may not lead to anything comprehensible, comic, or poetic. However, in the end our uncertainty is calmed, the situation saved, the film’s intensity newly found when moments, such as the one previously described, transition into comical studies. The phone booth becomes the site for awkwardly seductive female cabbie Jane to try her charms over the telephone, this moment seamlessly transforms into a euphorically entertaining and wildly seductive video clip. Our joy from the rescue of the situation is made even stronger by the fact that to us it is clear that we are standing on the fragile border between sense and non-sense. The film allows us to experience a sense of constant motion and the possibility of a creative and random turn of events at any time. This sense of discovery and freedom is felt repeatedly throughout the film. The final result of this is not just the immediate victory over pessimism, ridicule and impending anxiety. The result is that the “mistake” itself, injected into the film very intentionally, is a confirmation of the truthfulness of the expression itself. The fact that a joke may not work the way it was intended to, but may because of its irony become even more funny, the fact that the camera can hesitate in the moment of the shoot, only to capture something even more interesting than what the script called for, that the story itself can be paused to a degree that it reveals its backbone reflexively, is the essence of the true victory. All this is proof that we are witness to the actual and dangerous creation of reason before our very own eyes. The mistake is real; it demasks the film from its film ness, the actors from their humanity, the game as a game. At the beginning of the film My Life Further Down (1995), Petr Marek, as the voice of one of the semi autobiographical characters, says: “What you are about to see in this film is real, it is all real events.” Then he slips out of his role a bit and laughs at himself. It is a moment that disrupts the film but at the same time reinforces a self-reflexive plane and enlivens it. The statement’s mistake is bound with the unrepeatable moment of spontaneous laughter and thus entails a specific method for realism and uniqueness. The question is, whether the self-ironic decision for improvisation is not at times too altruistic. In its disregard for classical film tradition, which dictates continuity, ease of transition and a constant effort to make the viewer forget that he is in fact watching a movie, we can find a principle that is, in it’s radicalism and thoughtfulness, very refreshing and inventive. Marek’s films give light to the problematic stance we exercise in our conventional desire for perfection, for works without mistakes, while also destabilizing the paradigm we use to determine and ridicule mistakes. From one perspective something may be categorized as a mistake because it disturbs the logic and cohesion of the film. However, from the converse perspective this same “mistake” is seen as an infusion of poetry, humor, and a fragile documentary touch of reality, and sometimes as all of these. In Love from Above, for example, Prokop (played by Prokop Holub) makes an unexpected detour in a planned scene. He says to Jirka (Petr Marek), “I just had a great idea” and then demonstrates a hard to describe exuberant beat box jingle that ends with a “rumbumbum,” which causes his acting partner to burst into laughter and stop playing the outsider character he had been attempting to embody. When the scene jumps out of the confines of its predetermined direction it is not only the actors who are liberated, but also us, the audience. Improvisation as a game that seeks to get the most out of a given situation by existing solely in the here and now; a game that is the means of creative expression is the key element of Marek’s films. This sense of improvisation is usually achieved in his work with form and narrative rather than the specific sequence of scenes within a film. The “content” of Marek’s films is secondary to the meeting of people in front of a camera and the games, which arise from it. In two of his films we can find a more explicit exploration of this process in actor dialogue. In the film Petra (1996), which is divided into the form of a semi documentary pre-film and the subsequent (more) fictional film, the hero played by Mark, begins with a narration about someone who is not acting normal. The entire first “realistic” part of the film examines what it means to speak and act naturally, to prepare for the given moment. Petr Marek tells various stories but sometimes he stumbles, forgets what he was intending to say, sometimes the shot (and plot) repeats itself, as though he himself is searching for the best way to fall into the sequence. In Love from Above, Jirka (played by Marek) has invented a clever way to meet people with the help of an imaginary slip on an icy slide. By mistake he actually does fall on the ice and we then follow his endless slide down along the tower. At the end of this epic moment, the hero, lying still on the ground with his hand tucked sadly under his head, says in his thoughts “Oh my, why am I always so cramped up?” In the subsequent scenes he observes himself and from outside of the frame he comments sullenly with an inner monologue (“I stand, listen to what he is saying, but I really cannot concentrate on it, I am so tense”). As a sign of his unwillingness to conform to situations, his failure to take trips is then illustrated (since he does not “walk touristically”). The theme of being (non-being) in himself and in the scenes of the film is evident in the autobiographical yet fictional films Petra and Everything to Mars (1997) when personalities that appear quite sympathetic at the beginning later seem evil, as if something other to themselves, suddenly possessed by a foreign “Ego.” In examining Marek’s open and self-reflexive method I am reminded of two filmmakers: Philipps Garrel and Jean-Luc Goddard. Like Garrel, Marek possesses a desire to portray his actors in a documentary style and to combine fiction with autobiographical elements. Additionally, Jean-Luc Goddard shares a similar complexity and gravitation towards deconstructionist work with the narrative, audio-visual layering, and use of montage effects that have become signatures of Marek. Original montage work that combines diverse fragments enable Marek to give narrative structure to his films and to embellish them with a poetic musical rhythm that transcends the sometimes faltering storyline. This montage-poetry style, which utilizes shortcuts, associations, ellipses and playful metaphors that are the embodiment of clean ideals such as friendship, unknown lurking danger etc., is very visible in the slightly camouflaged, not very flowing film All to Mars!. It is necessary to say that, sometimes Marek’s quest for spontaneity tries the viewer’s patience. For example the unfinished scene endlessly repeating itself within a conceptual half hour scene in the film 240 minutes from Soligen (1995) is nearly intolerable. Similarly, the moment when the actors in the film Not Current (2005) are barely discernible due to the poor audio quality and amateurish acting is particularly frustrating for the audience. The strength and the “ethics” of Marek’s films is contained in an understanding of what it is to act really, with one’s entire being, to act with the highest possible physical investment in the work, including peripheral gestures, expressions and movements. At times this means a strong stylization, an acrobatic body feat, and a surrender of one’s thoughts (including those that are stupid or dark), and one’s privacy (including that of loved ones). Through this game, which includes cinematography and all of its grandiose potentials, an expression is understood, closely touched, taken apart and reassembled together again, a co-creation.


LOVE FROM ABOVE /Petr Marek/

MOTTO: A sleeping child wandering the landscape of wonders, unknown and comic, congenially speaking with the bird or animal, half believing it is real.

THE FIGURES: Magdalena is a girl with a “pure heart,” a stable being in love with the world. She has never committed an act of violence along her natural journey through life. She hardly speaks. She introduces herself with the words, “I am Magdalena and I never say much.” Prokop is an open young man, a bit distraught, sometimes confused. He flows through events by chance, usually in a state of surprise. He is admired by the world and his own doings. He introduces himself by saying, “I am Prokop and I do not know what I am like, I guess I am quite normal…” They are not solidly rooted in a relationship (at the same time they are not in any conscious opposition, they are simply and naturally “without touch”). They appear to be either students or surviving on basic, ambitionless employment. Jirka complements this pair with his rational nature. He is a person who understands the workings of society and has adapted to its rules and his life situation is that of “one leg into assimilation.” He introduces himself with the statement, “I am Peter, well Jirka in reality, and I do not travel a great deal, so I am kind of a bore…” Besides these three main characters we also have the narrator, (whose voice is heard emanating from a speaker made from a homemade wooden telephone), and the commentator, (a female voice coming from somewhere else). The first voice is ironic, easily captivating, the second clearing the way for poetry.

THE TALE: Prologue. During the first few seconds of the film we are witnesses to a very contemporary scene. On the street a modern car alarm is set off without apparent cause. The owner hurries to the scene and attempts to turn the alarm off. After a few foiled attempts he succeeds.

I. Magdalena and Prokop meet at the train station, led there by mutual misunderstanding. Like Jirka they could not agree on where or with whom to travel. In a few moments, Jirka himself hurries to the boarding platform. As a result of this confusion, all three of the individuals find themselves at the same place. This scene does not have a particular tie stamp within the narrative, it could happen pretty much anytime during the “first half of the film,” when the three heroes are introduced. Jirka, who has unsuccessfully applied for a job, is engaged in conversation with Prokop. Jirka talks about how he would really like to learn “how to take trips...” Contrary to this, Prokop comically states that he would “like to learn how to walk in the city.”

Magdalena is taking a walk. Magdalena and Prokop decide to take Jirka along on the trip. It turns out, however, that Jirka is not really a “traveler” and his presence is more or less comical. He brings along a tape recorder and records the events of the trip. It is quite obvious that Jirka cannot keep pace with his companions. At a crossroads in a field Prokop is surprised to find that one of the directions is impossible to follow as “there is no sound there.” In the consequent scenes we see an absence of any commotion, sound, dialogue or music in this place where “there is no sound.” When they try the opposite direction they discover that “there is no picture.” The travelers decide that the only choice is the remaining route. The commentator narrates the situation by stating, “Each one of us carries in themselves a picture of the other and as such allows himself to be amused. If we do not deal in sync with the direct presence, we can disturb this relationship.” During a rest stop at a sporting field the three travelers meet an angry young man with a bicycle. As a means to explain himself, the man sings them a song called “Cruel Love.” Afterwards he departs and leaves the bicycle for our travelers. Understandably, Jirka is overjoyed; now he has a means by which he can “keep up” with his companions.” They are all quite happy, Jirka is riding about and suddenly he disappears into the distance, never to be seen again. Thus ends the first part of the film.

II. In the second half of the film we follow Prokop and Magdalena on two other trips. The first is a planned excursion to the “solar eclipse.” This trip takes a surprise turn of events after all of Prokop’s belongings are stolen. Magdalena and an understandably angered Prokop end up taking a wild ride in a stolen car. During the ride the unhappy Prokop experiences bouts of unconsciousness, (in his dreams he actually destroys the stolen vehicle in an accident) and finally they miss their destination (the optimum observation point for this astronomical event). As a result they only witness a partial eclipse and Prokop drives away to return the car. In the meantime, Magdalena waits for him in town. In town she meets a diverse range of individuals (for example a recessionist group headed for an evening of intellectual discourse at a local pub. Magdalena smiles at one of the group members). While driving (and listening to a socio-political discussion of traffic) Prokop gives a lift to a fifty yearold woman. The woman tells Prokop her life story and that she has recently met the love of her life. Together they listen to a sociologist speak on the radio about the differences between male and female expectations. The calming interview with the woman assures Prokop that he has made the correct decision; during the night he plans to return the vehicle to the place he found it. Somehow he manages to fall asleep in the car and in the morning awakes in transit. The driver, a man clad in a military uniform, ignores him. At a petrol station Prokop, unnoticed, runs away. He sets out after Magdalene on foot. He tells her his dream (or the pretense of one, its roles played by them) that is a variation on a common life episode: A man into whose eye drops his own eyelash can make a wish. However, his wish will only come true when he flings the lash away and it lands in the eye of another person. Now the other person can make a wish! Magdalena and Prokop are once again traveling in a pair. Autumn has arrived. One day they come to a place that is definitely “without sound.” They are unable to find a direction that will lead them anywhere else. Conversations now take place in deadly silence with the aid of subtitles. They realize that their journey together is drawing to an end. Now they have to set out on their own and search for the “new sound” themselves. Prokop does not accept this and remembers the episode with the eyelash. “I always dreamt that we would be together forever!). But to this Magdalena replies, in subtitles, “I never wanted what you said to come true.” The fact that they are dealing with a dream or a pretension is now not important.

Soon the two part ways. Each one carries an image of the other as they move off into their own directions. The leaves begin to rustle.

01.03.2007