I have been fascinated by Prague ever since I first read Milan Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness Of Being. I spent a week in Prague and other parts of the Czech Republic in 1998 and became even more enamored with all things Czech. So naturally when I picked up Kolya in the foreign film section of the video store and read that it was set during Prague's Velvet Revolution, there was no choice but to rent it. Kolya won both the Oscar and the Golden Globe for Best Foreign Language Film in 1996, and I must say such accolades are very well deserved.

Zdenek Sverak (who also wrote the screenplay) stars as Louka, a 50-ish bachelor who is a virtuoso cellist but has been dismissed from the Philharmonic Orchestra by the Russian occupiers for “political” reasons. He plays his cello at funerals and cremations to earn a living, and supplements this meager income by restoring headstones. When not working, Louka amuses himself by consorting with one of his many lovers, just like the bachelor protagonist of The Unbearable Lightness Of Being. (Oh to be a bachelor from Prague!)

Louka is in financial difficulty though, as he has poured all his savings and more into maintaining his mother’s house in a rural village. Louka figures if he just had enough money to buy a Trabant (crappy East German car that has now attained cult-status), he could earn more money and pay his debts and look after his mother. Knowing that he is desperate for money, his friend the gravedigger convinces him to marry one of his Russian relatives so that she can obtain Czech nationality. Though wary at first, Louka gives in to the scheme and the 40,000-crown payment, knowing that he will not have to live with her and will be able to divorce after six months.

Just five days after the wedding, Louka’s beautiful young Russian wife abandons him and her five-year old son Kolya, and immigrates to West Germany, where her lover is waiting to meet her. It transpires that she only needed the Czech citizenship for emigration purposes (Russians were not allowed to emigrate to the West, though Czechs were). Just a few days later the woman’s mother dies, and thus our bachelor hero finds himself in custody of a five-year old Russian boy he does not want who speaks no Czech. Louka does not speak Russian, and like most Czechs, is not exactly fond of Russians.

The central action of the film revolves around the developing relationship between Louka and Kolya. While the basic premise of “aging bachelor cares for unwanted child” has been done before and seems trite at first glance, director Jan Sverak has succeeded wonderfully in producing a film that is touching without being mushy and funny without being contrived. Andrej Chalimon is fantastic as Kolya. He is as adorable as the child who played in Life Is Beautiful. Sverak makes his audience care deeply about both Kolya and Louka. I found myself laughing like a maniac and wiping my eyes like a sentimental babushka. Kolya contains many, many poignant moments.

Even though the plot and the central characters are enough to carry the film, Sverak envelops them with beautiful cinematography, glorious architecture and landscapes, and a moving original score by Ondrej Soukup. My only criticism of the film, and it is a minor one, is that Sverak manages to keep all the ugly communist era buildings and factories out of the camera’s line of vision, thus creating a not-entirely accurate portrait of the Czech Republic.
Kolya has taken a place in my affections as one of my very favourite foreign films, right up there with Life Is Beautiful, Belle Epoque and The Unbearable Lightness Of Being. I give it my highest recommendation.


If you are a fan of foreign films, you may be interested in my review of Belle Epoque:

http://australia.epinions.com/mvie-review-24DA-34FD3D8A-3A0DE685-prod6

(Just cut and paste the above URL into your browser).


Recommended:
Yes

Viewing Format: VHS
Video Occasion: Fit for Friday Evening
Suitability For Children: Suitable for Children Age 13 and Older