Havel | 2020 Warsaw International Film Festival Review
Polarizing Play: Horák’s Questionable Take on the Hero of the Velvet Revolution
Covering the personal timeline of any major politician would be a daunting task for any filmmaker. Havel, a loosely inspired historical biopic on the last president of Czechoslovakia/first president of the Czech Republic isn’t the most convincing of portraitures. For his sophomore feture, by Slávek Horák focuses on the so-called Normalization era, from 1968 to 1989, the key time in Václav Havel’s metamorphosis from a timid playwright to a full-fledged head of state — this initially begins in the 1980s and shows the real-life Havel commenting on a fundamental insight into his behavior – he actually does brave things out of cowardice.
The first act takes us to the Prague Spring, a major event that gave millions of people a hope for freedom and ended with an occupation of the state. A couple of years later, Havel (Viktor Dvořák) and his wife Olga (Anna Geislerová) encounter the sheer brutality of the Communist regime, and he decides to become an active dissident and then – a free-thinking Chartist. In the 1980s, the future president is imprisoned, which weakens his body, but strengthens his determination.
In order to get an adequate idea of the essence of the film, the average viewer is supposed to have an encompassing knowledge of Czechoslovak history. Key figures such as the First Chairman of the local Communist party – Alexander Dubček (Adrian Jastraban), events such as the Warsaw Pact invasion, or documents such as Charter 77 are only briefly hinted at. Even though this spares screen time and needless dialogue between the protagonists, it risks alienating audiences from outside Eastern Europe. The biggest pitfall of Havel, though, lies in its main character – writers Slávek Horák and Rudolf Suchánek make an awkward choice in portraying him as a common man with common vices. What we get instead is a grotesque womanizer who is also incredibly indecisive. “Be a man for once!”, Olga bursts out in desperation to give him a much-needed wake-up call. Despite continuously looking at him like a forgiving mother to her naïve son, she is not spared from his hypocrisy when she confesses a sin later on.
Dvořák’s talent shines through with his portrayal of a wide range of polarizing traits and his uncanny physical resemblance to the real-life Havel, and Geislerová wins sympathies with her strong and independent figure always standing up for her beliefs. The semiotic world of the film is uneven – sometimes, the metaphors are accurately used, for instance, the blank paper alludes to Havel’s conscience. Other times, though, they are outright abused – one cannot expect to repeat the same motif of turns of events in the theater four times and have the audience engaged. The production design by Vladimír Hruška is accurately evocative of the time period; however, the same cannot be said about the make-up and hair by Adriana Bartošová – even though the film spans over 20 years, Dvořák looks as if he has not aged a day.
In theory, Havel attempts to illustrate the story of a man who fights not only against the communist system, but also with his own conscience. In practice, nevertheless, the film is a biopic so ludicrous that once it ends, the viewer is unexpectedly faced with a rhetorical question – is that version of Havel heroic or caricatural?
Reviewed on October 14th at the 2020 Warsaw International Film Festival – Special Screenings. 104 Mins. Part of the The Fipresci Warsaw Critics Project.
★½/☆☆☆☆☆
