Review: We Have Never Been Modern
- Matěj Chlupáček's sophomore feature intertwines a period crime narrative with the taboo subject of hermaphroditism in a socially engaged genre flick
Rising from the Czech Republic's latest crop of filmmakers, director and producer Matěj Chlupáček has revealed his second feature, We Have Never Been Modern [+see also:
trailer
interview: Matěj Chlupáček and Miro Ši…
film profile], in competition at Karlovy Vary. Chlupáček, who burst onto the scene with his drama Touchless [+see also:
trailer
interview: Matěj Chlupáček
film profile] at the age of 17, has since built up a diverse range of both small- and big-screen works as a producer at Barletta Productions. His newest offering, conceived in partnership with proficient scriptwriter Miro Šifra, cleverly positions a universally relatable narrative within the confines of a local setting and a genre framework.
Echoing the title of Bruno Latour's philosophical examination of modernity's rigid dichotomy between nature and society, the film hints at some deliberate parallels, despite the somewhat blunt connotation. The local title, Úsvit, which translates directly as “Dawn”, cleverly elicits the name of the city of Svit, the setting for the story. Constructed at the foot of the High Tatras in Slovakia to accommodate the employees of the Baťa factory, Svit mirrors the Czech precedent of Zlín, famously dubbed the “Czechoslovak Chicago”.
Alois Haupt (Miroslav König), the factory manager, bears the responsibility for replicating Zlín's success in Svit. However, the discovery of a dead hermaphrodite infant on the factory grounds mere days before the arrival of the real-life entrepreneurial mogul Jan Antonín Baťa, addressed in the film as the boss, sends out ripples of disturbing rumours among the workforce, potentially jeopardising Svit's entire project. The secret police, portrayed by Slovak actors Milan Ondrík and Marián Mitaš, intervene to nip the burgeoning scandal in the bud.
The 24-hour inquiry, hinting at communist-instigated sabotage, does little to placate the scepticism of the factory manager's wife, Helena Hauptová (Eliška Křenková). A former medical student who now runs the clinic in Svit, Helena embarks on her own quest for the truth. Šifra and Chlupáček weave a contemporary story within the fabric of a bygone era's sets and societal conventions, delving into themes of diversity and norms. Helena, an intelligent, sarcastic and independent woman, challenges the period's standard notion of a dutiful trophy wife, and her discovery similarly challenges the taboo subject of hermaphroditism.
The framing of this tale as a detective story in pre-war Czechoslovakia primarily serves as a narrative vehicle for an intricate psychological drama that unfolds on multiple levels, with Helena at its core. Despite her well-meaning endeavours, her personal ambitions subtly pervade the assistance she provides to a marginalised person. Helena resides in Baťa's city, providing an almost utopian vision of life and work, although her rushed progressivism might unintentionally harm the very person she is striving to help. Moreover, her privileged upbringing influences her outlook, clashing with her husband's worldview born of hard work and struggle.
The narrative swiftly shifts from crime to emancipation drama, as Helena confronts societal conservatism, particularly regarding gender, while grappling with her own identity and societal role. We Have Never Been Modern addresses current issues within a period context to underscore how little has changed. Helena confronts her own biases when she realises that she has been denying agency to an individual capable of self-determination. Chlupáček navigates towards a socially conscious, genre-driven drama through a queer story starring trans actor Richard Langdon.
Art director Henrich Boráros and his team faithfully recreate the bygone splendour and signature architecture of Baťa's town, employing 1:7-scale miniatures and even incorporating interior scenes shot in Zlín. Positioned against the picturesque backdrop of the High Tatras' natural beauty, the city of Svit, through the lens of cinematographer Martin Douba (Moments [+see also:
trailer
interview: Beata Parkanová
interview: Beata Parkanová
film profile], Rats), provides a stark contrast with the largely agricultural society at that time.
By intertwining the local allure provided by the lore surrounding Baťa with a universal tale of the pursuit for identity and emancipation, We Have Never Been Modern epitomises the glocal nature of domestic production in a socially conscious drama without resorting to moralisation.
We Have Never Been Modern was produced by Barletta and co-produced by Slovak production outfit D.N.A. Production. Bontonfilm handles the theatrical release in the Czech Republic and Slovakia, while LevelK oversees the international sales.
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