The Painted Bird

London Film Festival review #7

The Painted Bird is one of those rare films which is simultaneously so ambitious and so uncommercial it is difficult to see how the filmmakers managed to find the backing to make it. The basic premise itself is nothing new – a boy of around nine years of age is separated from his parents in Eastern Europe during World War Two as the Germans are heading for Russia, and goes through hell as he attempts to find them again. This subject matter is quite similar to two previous masterpieces, Ivan’s Childhood and Come and See, and to some extent The Painted Bird feels like a throwback to the days when people made such serious films about the war. What differentiates it from these earlier works is the approach. Although director Vaclav Marhoul takes us on a harrowing journey, the violence in the film is stylised rather than realistic, and some of the images we see are more reminiscent of the gothic horror genre than films dealing with military conflict. Vladimir Smutny's black-and-white ‘scope photography makes every frame a work of art, and the lack of colour helps to make some of the bloodier scenes easier to take.

Marhoul has made only two previous features, neither of which were very high-profile, but this latest is clearly the work of a master. Based on an autobiographical novel by Jerzy Kosinski, it has an episodic structure which sees the silent and unnamed boy (a devastating performance by Petr Kotlar) repeatedly going from one terrible situation to another for almost three hours. This is a risky approach for a film, but somehow it works, and every member of the film festival audience I saw it with watched in rapt attention throughout the entire running time.

There are a handful of well-known actors in the cast, among them Stellan Skarsgard, Udo Kier, Julian Sands and Harvey Keitel, the latter of whom is rather obviously dubbed. The episodic nature of the story means that none of them are in it for very long, but all make an impact in various ways.

The Painted Bird is a misanthropic masterpiece, an instant classic packed full of memorable images, and a film that, once seen, will never be forgotten.