THE PAINTED BIRD Review
The first thing you hear in director/writer Vaclav Marhoul’s THE PAINTED BIRD is the hurried breathing of a nameless Jewish boy (Petr Kotlar) as he flees from hounding prepubescent attackers, a weasel in his arms. Less than five minutes into Marhoul’s visually stark film, the type of film you know you’re getting into is set as the boy is viciously beat down by his childish assailants but not before they set the weasel on fire. As the young bloodied protagonist watches the critter burn and wither, so too does the audience and throughout this vast and labrous film, the atrocities the young boy will encounter in a nearly 3 hour runtime will surely surpass this measly display of wanton animal cruelty.
Seperated into segments designated by the names of various characters that the young boy will encounter, almost all of them evil and depraved in some form or fashion, THE PAINTED BIRD will encapsulate the catastrophic events of World War 2 and The Holocaust through the eyes of a small, defenseless child. Episodic in nature, the young Jewish boy will encounter the likes of merciless witch doctors (Alla Sokolova), violently jealous farmers (Udo Kier), paedophiliac caretakers (Julian Sands) and much more. From the jump, any sense of warmth or care seems absent in the world of Marhoul’s film, replaced only by unrelenting cruelty and madness resulting in a film that could easily be misinterpreted as basking in its cruelty as the film seems to touch on every taboo topic there is to touch. Working from a novel by Jerzy Kosinski (which Kosinski claims is autobiographical only to be challenged as fictitious by critics later), Marhoul takes no prisoners in his depiction of an endlessly savage world.
Despite its persistent dourness, THE PAINTED BIRD still somehow remains entrancing even as the on screen atrocities begin to almost comically pile up on our young protagonist. A helping hand in that claim is found in the film’s production values, as Marhoul and co. effectively recreate those flung away villages and vast vistas that are rarely seen in other World War 2 movies (at least in the Western ones, that is). Indeed, everything from the production design to costumes to the sound design go a long way in painting a vividly hostile world but it’s Vladimir Smutny’s camera that brings everything to cruel life as his wide and static compositions allow the characters and world to effectively display their unearthly capacity and endurance for violence. Even as the film’s dark visuals manage to wring a form of classical beauty out, the performances across the board from a surprisingly (and at times, distracting) star-studded cast never let you forget about the humans involved and afflicted by the film’s violence; but it’s the central performance from the young Mr. Kotlar that will stick with you he effectively steps into the shoes of a child who is mercilessly led through hell on earth. A film that favors the soot, blood-crusted faces of its characters, dialogue feels as rare as happiness in THE PAINTED BIRD making each physical performance, especially that of Mr. Kotlar stand out even more in its impressive achievement of displaying the effects that war and carnage have on the people caught in the middle of it. Nevertheless, I hope the kid is doing fine these days because let me tell you, this is probably the most any cinematic child (or child actor) has ever gone through in his on-screen endeavors, and not in a good way.
Despite all the care put into the production and performances, it’s really hard to see anything much deeper here besides the already know notion that World War 2 was a terrible time for most people involved, especially the Jewish people. With so much of the film dedicated to crafting the next brutal trial for the boy or whoever he encounters, it becomes hard at times to see just what exactly is the “point” of this film besides banging audiences head over and over again with a different form of WW2 induced cruelty. While there are moments where Marhoul hints at something deeper with his evocative images that are surely metaphorical, when all is said and done, THE PAINTED BIRD feels like an exercise in relatively tasteful inhumanity. Even in the very rare and short moments of warmth to be found, notably in sections where the boy comes across an exhausted Nazi officer (Stellan Skarsgard) or a warm yet ruthless Russian sniper (Barry Pepper), it’s hard to get over just how much THE PAINTED BIRD resides in misery. At nearly 3 hours, which to the film’s credit doesn’t feel as long as it is, things become a tad redundant even as events continue to get darker and at times, ridiculous.
While the film inches ever so slightly to a relatively “happy” ending with a powerful final moment, Marhoul and co’s film makes the audience earn that crumb of levity rather than the other way around. By all means effective and well made, THE PAINTED BIRD feels bogged down by its relentless portrayal of barbarism resulting in a film that feels more punishing than rewarding.
3.5/5
