For a few
short years in the late sixties, Czechoslovakia produced a
crop of outstanding films and filmmakers that made statements
on the precarious position that their country held during
World War II and the first few decades of the Cold War. Then
the Soviets clamped down on expression and effectively ended
the film movement. Luckily, during that time Jiri Menzel's
Closely Watched Trains (1966) got produced and released
in the US. It won an Academy Award and has remained a favorite
of its era ever since.
The genius of the film is that it is deceptively
innocent. Like the employees of the train station it depicts,
Closely Watched Trains seems pretty disinterested with
the Nazi activity passing through. Trains carrying ammunition
and soldiers (the "closely watched trains" of the title), as
well as other Nazi supplies, roll through the humble train
station but trainee Milos Hrma (Vaclav Neckar) is more
interested in doing as little work as possible while
developing his romantic manhood. (The significance of trains
as a method of transporting the doomed to concentration camps
is never explicitly mentioned, but the imagery is always
there. Czechs talk about the cattle and other livestock
crammed into train cars without any thought given to their
well-being. Even though the film mostly has a light tone, the
darkness is never far from the surface.) He feels impotent
with Masa (Jitka Bendova) and watches jealously as Dispatcher
Hubika (Josef Somr) parades his non-stop lovers through the
office into the lounge. Milos fumbles a couple of attempts
with Masa and has a doctor diagnose him as being prone to
premature ejaculation and prescribe that he think about
football instead. Milos often says that he knows he is a man
but that he cannot prove it with Masa and the stress of being
impotent gets to him. Without giving away too much of what
happens, Milos goes through ups and downs, only to emerge near
the end of the film feeling invigorated, manly, and
invincible. That's when the film suddenly seems to change
gears. Closely Watched Trains has one of the most
surprising endings I've ever seen. It's surprising for many
reasons. It seems to go against the style of the entire film
up to that point. It is also played in such a matter-of-fact
way that it actually magnifies what happens. This is a film of
great humanity and the fate of Milos is strongly felt.
It's also a very sensual film. You can almost feel the
textures: The thick material of the uniforms, the leather of
the furniture, the metal of the trains, skin, hair. Beautiful
cinematography and lighting help create this atmosphere with a
few simple details. At times you can see a similarity with
Schindler's List. Surely Spielberg has seen Closely
Watched Trains many times.
The actors are natural and low-key, but the drama of
their lives is real. The film has a wry, dry comedy but still
there is suffering. I would imagine that watching it a second
time is a completely different experience, knowing the full
story. In a way it reminded me of Renoir's Grand
Illusion, since it presents regular, simple characters and
pours a lifetime of heart and pain into them.
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