Clownwise (2013)
Cast: Julie Ferrier, Kati Outinen, Krystof Hádek
Directors: Viktor Taus
Country: Slovakia | Luxembourg | Czech Republic | Finland
Genre: Comedy | Drama
Editor’s Notes: The following review is part of our coverage of the European Union Film Festival. For more information on the festival visit www.eutorontofilmfest.ca and follow the European Union Film Festival on Twitter at @EUFFToronto.
It was 1985 when Oskar (Didier Flamand) fled communist Czechoslovakia for France. One-third of the noted Czech political comedy trio known as Busters, his departure was the fatal blow to the group. The two remaining members, Max (Oldrich Kaiser) and Viktor (Jirí Lábus), struggled to find their own way after the breakup, while Oskar’s family endured hostility from a Communist Party angry at his defection. Nearly thirty years later, after being hailed as “The King of Clowns” in much of Europe, Oskar has returned to Prague for his final performance, facing a skeptical public and the complicated relationships he left behind.
Clownwise, alternating between bittersweet nostalgia and dark comedy, features a host of fine supporting performances desperately searching for a plot.
Clownwise, alternating between bittersweet nostalgia and dark comedy, features a host of fine supporting performances desperately searching for a plot. A mash-up of tropes about art, aging, love and death circulate aimlessly around the character of Oskar, a lightly sketched ladies’ man with almost no discernible talent for comedy. Oskar is not a clown in the American sense of the word, but a mime artist, a silent performer with a well-regarded Pagliaccio-style character that made him famous in France. Flamand shows his solid talent for pathos and fairs well in straight dramatic scenes, but he appears to lack the comedy gene, and at times it’s impossible to believe Flamand’s Oskar could ever have been considered the “King of Clowns.”
Not so with Kaiser and Lábus, two actors who have finely honed comedic and acting skills used to great effect as the comedians left behind when Oskar defected. Max, a clown whose revolutionary stylings prior to the fall of communism in Czechoslovakia made him popular with the public, is implied to have sold out, now enjoying a cushy Hollywood-like career and a wife half his age. Meanwhile, Viktor is stuck in a crumbling old home, nursing his wife Sylvie (a terrific Kati Outinen) and decades-old grudges, all while honing an impressive mastery of feces-based insults.
Clownwise steadfastly refuses to allow its characters much depth. Some of this is perhaps due to the English subtitles, riddled with so many errors that it’s a certainty that something was lost in translation.
As Mel Brooks says, “Comedy is protest,” and Kaiser’s and Lábus’ famous real-life comedic partnership is no stranger to protest. Their experiences, both while Czechoslovakia was under communist rule and afterward, give Clownwise its only texture and substance. This real-world partnership also allows for a few in-jokes, but when their characters finally meet toward the finale, this relationship becomes the sole impetus for their behavior, an accidental breaking of the fourth wall that is so manipulative it’s a little offensive.
Clownwise steadfastly refuses to allow its characters much depth. Some of this is perhaps due to the English subtitles, riddled with so many errors that it’s a certainty that something was lost in translation. When Max’s age changes not once but twice, for instance, it’s impossible for non-Czech speakers to know if that was an intentional joke or just a typo. Not every moment that lacks clarity can be blamed on subtitles, however. Oskar’s girlfriend Fabienne (Julie Ferrier) is so insubstantial, for instance, that we’ll never know if she has self-consciously styled herself as Guilietta Masina in La Strada on purpose or if the filmmakers just thought giving her that hat was a neat idea.
Fabienne only exists as yet another person who falls apart because of Oskar’s inattention. When he left for France all those years ago, everyone around him crumbled, but it’s unclear why. Oskar is a light romantic lead at best, a low-impact womanizer whose screen presence is so inadequate Clownwise would make more sense if he were revealed to be a ghost floating around his own past. In a sense, he is, but it’s a past that lacks structure due not to his own inattention but a lack of attention to the narrative. There are some touching moments and subtle scenes of slightly dark, wry comedy that are very effective, but they’re swallowed whole by a series of forced interpersonal conflicts that lack emotional weight. Clownwise desperately wants your laughs, your sighs and your tears, but can only elicit a couple of chuckles and maybe a smirk.
There are some touching moments and subtle scenes of slightly dark, wry comedy that are very effective, but they're swallowed whole by a series of forced interpersonal conflicts that lack emotional weight. Clownwise desperately wants your laughs, your sighs and your tears, but can only elicit a couple of chuckles and maybe a smirk.
