User reviews

The film's reputation very well precedes it; in the first moment that I learned of 'Marketa Lazarová,' I also learned it's regarded as perhaps the best Czech movie ever made. I can appreciate why - I'm not familiar with the novel the movie is adapted from, but the story is exquisite. The narrative is as bleak as it is expertly crafted, and deeply engrossing. There's strong attention to detail in all things - every shot, every article of the costume design, every sight of set design, and eye-catching filming locations. The vivid imagery of a historical drama becomes ever more stark captured in black and white, including the countenances of the actors. The assembled cast is outstanding - all those most prominent before the camera, of course (Magda Vásáryová above all, embodying the all-important title role with all due gravity) but even those in supporting roles, realizing every vivid emotion and tribulation. Factor in many extras as well, and the landscape of medieval Europe seems dazzlingly real and tangible.

However - for as superb as the narrative is, and for as excellent as the picture is as a whole, I cannot say it's perfect. I have a rather difficult time engaging with the film at points, especially in the first half. The presentation of the story is disjointed: some story beats, or facets of each plot point that would round them out, are not expressed clearly, or at all. There is a substantial amount of narrative that does not play out before the camera, or dialogue that is spoken by figures who are not on-screen, and the audience is left to pick up the pieces and discern what they may. Fine as the tale is, it's extremely difficult to truly parse it without an outside synopsis to provide the context and clarification that the feature does not. For all the characters that are introduced, and given plenty of attention at varying points, the fates of some are left vague. The end result is that 'Marketa Lazarová' comes off not just as historical fiction, but an art film ruthlessly indifferent to conventional narrative flow.

To be clear, I think this is a great, grand film. The story it tells is magnificent in and of itself, and complex, even as it's terribly grim. All technical aspects are fantastic, including the direction; the cast is swell; the writing, broadly, is marvelous. Some sequences are truly exceptional - outright phenomenal - particularly nearer the end. But there are also many ponderous gaps in the plot progression, and otherwise instances of inelegant telling, that gravely stymie the absolute mastery of cinema that the feature could and should have represented save for those faults. That 'Marketa Lazarová' nonetheless succeeds in being so splendid a work despite its flaws is a testament to the skills of all involved, but the deficiencies are unfortunate all the same.

The content is oppressively dreary, and the execution as a whole has no few problems. Still, for all that: the immense quality, from start to finish, manages to well outweigh the issues of its rendering. I think this is a superlative example of what cinema can achieve that deserves far greater renown outside the Czech Republic; would only that the blemishes could have been cleared up. For many reasons this won't be a film that everyone can enjoy, but if one can look past the sometimes laborious effort that the viewing experience represents, I dare say this is essential. Though regrettably imperfect, 'Marketa Lazarová' is a captivating, striking exemplar of film that earns my most hearty recommendation, and it's very much worth watching by whatever means one is able.

I bought the Second Run DVD, after reading about how this epic was considered the best Czech film, ever.

To be honest, not many other contenders spring to mind. And, who voted? As it was on special offer and I am a sucker indeed for that Russian style of gritty monochrome composition and beauty, how could I resist?

I'm on its second play and I'm no nearer following the story. There is undoubtedly one. Am I too overawed by imagery that I could only dream of? (even if I were able to!) Is it the savagery and feel of a certain reality?

I don't know. I can sense, however, an art film made with passion and unbounded imagination. Of folklore, both in a historical sense and a cultural one and of religious rebellion. Like Kurosawa at his best, an immediacy and connection. Yet, it is also dreamlike and distant, with an air of mysticism that I found increasingly confusing. The length of film means that by halfway through I've no idea what is going on, but am still enjoying what I see.

Unfortunately, I have docked a mark for the forced, electronically induced echo on the dialogue that probably is supposed to denote that other worldly strangeness. It seems to seep in and hang about, its constant use here cheapens the effect to being a bit of a pain. Whereas Kurosawa used that SFX so effectively on, say Roshomon, by using just once or twice.

I could see elements of the Brazilian 'Black God, White Devil' and like others have commented, Kurosawa's 'Seven Samurai' and Tarkov's 'Andrei Rublev'. Maybe some of the black magic in Bergman's late medieval classics, such as 'The Virgin Spring' and 'The Seventh Seal'. But more psychotic, more manic and disturbing than all these put together. Like madness itself, there is a real beauty deeply ingrained amongst the mayhem.

My conclusion would have to be that if you get the chance, go for it. Take it with a large pinch of salt and sprinkle sparingly. None of it is truly horrific or unpalatable to most adults and don't worry if you don't "get it". Be slightly proud and immodest that you've found a tarnished gem that hardly anyone else will have seen or are ever likely to.

UK DVD label Second Run – which specializes in rare Eastern European classics – have, over the last couple of years, released a handful of films I have long yearned to watch (and which, as a result of this viewing of MARKETA LAZAROVA, I've just ordered online): Aleksander Ford's KNIGHTS OF THE TEUTONIC ORDER (1960; a disc which despite its being trimmed by the BBFC and in an altered aspect ratio, I couldn't sensibly forego), Jerzy Kawalerowicz's MOTHER JOAN OF THE ANGELS (1961; their very first release which I purchased in London last year), Jan Nemec's THE PARTY AND THE GUESTS (1966) and, debuting in a few days' time, Miklos Jancso's THE ROUND-UP (1965).

Unlike these movies, I wasn't consciously aware of MARKETA LAZAROVA when the infectious buzz about its impending release hit the Internet but, as I later found out, the film was actually mentioned, ever so fleetingly, in one of my father's old movie magazines. Again, when the DVD was eventually released, there was a negative vibe about the alleged visual deficiencies of Second Run's disc but, in hindsight, these were quite needlessly exaggerated. Ultimately, an awesome – and, as it turned out, essential – movie experience such as this one deserves to be seen right away and to keep waiting for that perfectly pristine print to rear its unlikely head is utterly pointless. Alas, the Czech New Wave is still a largely undiscovered segment of cinema history for me so I am not in a position to suitably assess whether MARKETA LAZAROVA is indeed the greatest Czech movie ever made (as it had been judged in a 1998 poll among 100 native film critics). Suffice it to say that this ostensibly obscure film has by now figured in a number of published all-time best polls and, consequently, its status is deservedly well-established. Hopefully, as it was in my case, Second Run's DVD will serve as the introduction to many an adventurous film enthusiast in the future…

Since my overall experience of MARKETA LAZAROVA was such a positive one, it seems only right to get my quibbles with the film out of the way first and there are basically two of them: a muddled storyline which, for most of the film's first half, left me rather perplexed as to which of the two warring factions the characters whose exploits I was following on screen belonged and, while things got clearer as time went by, the individuals themselves (with the obvious exception of the titular character) did not exactly garner much sympathy. I suppose that for a movie with a running time of almost three hours these flaws would usually be significantly detrimental to one's enjoyment of the whole: however, the definite impression I was left with while watching was that, despite the eponymous title, the director's intent was not to narrate a conventional life history but actually to create a visual tapestry of the medieval era onto celluloid and, in this regard, to say that he succeeded would be the understatement of the year. In fact, along with Andrei Tarkovsky's ANDREI RUBLEV (shot in 1965 but actually unreleased until 1972), I'd venture to say that MARKETA LAZAROVA is the most convincingly realized cinematic portrait of those turbulent times, distinguishing Frantisek Vlacil's vision as an overwhelmingly expansive and stunningly visual one.

In this context, it is quite appropriate that the titular character (played by a future Presidential candidate, the beautiful Magda Vasaryova) is practically silent for most of the film; she is first seen about to enter into a holy order but is eventually abducted, raped and impregnated by the feral Mikolas (who was actually raised by wolves) whom she comes to love eventually. Another parallel and equally unlikely relationship we are witness to is the one which blossoms between the earthy Alexandria (who is also involved in some brief but startling instances of full-frontal nudity) and her young, aristocratic captive who happens to be a German Bishop; it is worth noting here that Alexandria had already almost cost the life of her brother Adam when his own father had severed his arm in punishment for their incestuous coupling! Interestingly, the film is divided into two parts – respectively entitled "Straba" and "The Lamb Of God" – and punctuated by frequent, verbose, half Dickensian-half picaresque chapter headings, not to mention the presence on the soundtrack of a bemused narrator who, at one point, even takes on the role of God while interacting with a monk! This is not the only instance of whimsical inventiveness present in MARKETA LAZAROVA – perhaps adopted by the director to counter the oppressively bleak ambiance created by the forbidding snowy landscape and dense forest settings which can actually claim to be the film's true main characters. As I said previously, striking images abound throughout: the intermittent, sinister appearance of the pack of wolves is impressively eerie, the distraught monk looking for his lamb and eventually losing her decapitated head down a clifftop, a horse drowning in a puddle on a deserted no man's land, the camera occasionally taking on a feverishly first person viewpoint according to the character at hand, the effective use of unheralded off-kilter compositions (including a totally bizarre arrow-in-the-eye shot!), etc. Having said that, Zdenek Liska's choral, percussive and electronic score is equally imaginative and, as a result, extraordinarily complementary to the uniquely sombre spectacle on constant display.

I've only seen this movie once, in a restored print at a film festival a few years back; it's apparently not available on video in the US, which is a real shame. It's a medieval epic, basically about the clash between the old pagan world and the emerging Christian one, but there's a lot more to it than that. Visually, it's nearly as stunning as *Andrei Rublev* (and a good bit faster-paced); some of the images - wolves roaming the barren forests, horsemen in snowstorms - will make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. I'll admit that I'm a sucker for gloomy, wintry European art movies, especially if they work some bloody sword-fights in, too, but this is one of the overlooked Great Movies ...

Some of the most rewarding film experiences I know of annotate the medium itself, oftentimes than not so elliptically it's almost impossible to see at first. I don't mean Fellini's "8 ½" (1963) or "F for Fake" (1974) and their ilk; these are explicitly self-referential films, not that there's anything wrong in that. The films I am referring to aren't really self-referentially about film on narrative level, rather about something else entirely; they become film allegories by extension, as if in the periphery, accidentally.

"Marketa Lazarová" (1967), so audaciously otherworldly, is a film like that. I've seen it twice now, and slowly it's starting to reveal its riches. The first time around my expectations misled me to approach it as something closer to Tarkovsky's "Andrei Rublev" (1966), and while there are similarities, the film is so radical it's not that fitting a comparison in my mind.

The backdrop for the film is a profound historical and cultural paradigm shift where Christianity and paganism battle it out. Two opposites, the film can be seen as a poetic exploration of this struggle, and thus as a social document. While interesting, something else speaks to me more. For me the two allegorical forces at play are those of image and sound, and their use in film world, in filmic language. They often go their own ways, images showing us something and the narration swerving to somewhere else altogether, and the complex array of characters and their unorthodox introduction and presentation in the film underline the effect of confusion very powerfully. The overdubbed, echoing dialogue, often out of sync with the image, distracted me on first viewing, but it's unmistakably fitting in the grand scheme of things. Some images are so powerful I can't get them out of my mind (not that I'd want to, mind you!)

And the music! It's the highest compliment I can think of when I say for a film so visually rich that you should not only see it but listen to it. Liska's contribution to the film in some ways contributes to the modest thesis I've been trying to form in so short a space, that is the wonderful interplay of sound and image. Kieslowski's "Trois couleurs: Bleu" (1993) might compare if I wanted to search for something as equally stunning as this.

And I can't write about the film without mentioning the most wonderful sound I've come across in film. It's the convent bell, and one can hear it towards the very beginning, during the revelation and just before the intertitles, I think, and I think it's repeated at least once later on.

All in all, what an experience. We're lucky to have two Blu-rays of the film, the first a Czech Region B, the second a Criterion Region A release. The first one does have English subtitles.

"Marketa Lazarova" was a film I saw in 1970 at a small film theater in Minneapolis, Minnesota. It left an indelible memory, and I've spent years trying to find a way to see it again. At least once a year, I find a note I left about a phone call I've made to some obscure library or other such place in the hope of finding a way to see it.

The film won an Academy Award, and it should be remembered. It is stunning in black and white; the story is remarkable in its content and direction.

If anyone has ideas about how we fans can possibly revive this movie, we should try to do so. It is worth all the trouble and more just to see it again and again.

First i have to say that my journey to understanding this film was not an easy one. I ve seen it first time at age of 19teen and was quite a confused.. cause I've seen not much story, not much dialogues not much conversation in this film.. i just knew even from school that this movie according to lot of people in czech republic where vlacil and me are from should have won Oscar instead of "ostre sledovane vlaky". I ve returned to this movie few years later.. and was astonished... main power in of this movie doesn't lay in plot or conversations. u have to watch as a story about love made in AMAZING audio visual manner. true masterpiece and piece of art which is going to last forever i think. The scenes have so much of pathos (in a good way) that make u wanna cry.. acting performances are astonishing, especially Josef Kemr... this film is a true emotional experience.. i can only recommend it to you..

Incredible film. They could not make this in Hollywood. Begin with the most realistic film from the Middle Ages - ever. The story is that they shot two films from a group of actors who lived in medieval conditions for this and The Valley of the Bees. Add in incredible acting from the likes of Menshik and Vasryova. Josef Kemr -who I had only seen do comic roles - as Kozlik - incredible. The battles are very realistic - no phony CGI, no special effects that leave you wondering where the humans are... If you like Andrei Rublev, Virgin Spring, Seventh Seal, etc., YOU MUST SEE THIS (and I rarely use all caps). If you are a fan of Menshik (Lemonade Joe, Who wants to kill Jessie) or Vasaryova (Off on the Comet, etc.) YOU MUST SEE THIS.

Set in medieval times when paganism was still strong, follows the violent exploits of a small, well off clan.

Unlike most Hollywood 'history', the film does not just put modern people in ancient times, but attempts to reconstruct the society and lifestyle. Very fluid and poetic camera work.

This is not a film for everyone.

Just wanted to add a note about the apparent slightly negative comments about the visual quality of the Second Run DVD release - well, how petty can you get! This astonishing film is incredible to look at and is surely one of the most beautiful films ever made though not, it has to be said, in a conventional sense. Although some scenes feature genuinely authentic brutality, there is a strange dream-like quality to the film's look. The story itself demands total concentration throughout but, by the end, you will be fully rewarded for your efforts. A poetic masterpiece. Great work again by Second Run for making such a cinematic rarity available to view.

Best Czech film ever? No, that would be Closely Watched Trains. Now, the cinematography is amazing, fluid camera work that feels like a dream. But it's too long, too many characters, too many off screen people talking and you lose track of what's going on fast. I even stopped the film, read a synopsis and returned and still was lost. The main characters all seem pretty awful and I didn't know why I should care about them. I suppose it immerses you into the setting where a modern person couldn't understand the motives of Medieval people. I just needed a more coherent story and a shorter run time. Late in the film, a battle is about to begin. Then they cut and it's over and some people who were surrounded somehow got away. Ugh.

What works for this film has critics and viewers losing track of what doesn't. I agree with all the praise heaped on for the cinematography. As a work of visual art, this film certainly deserves its place in the list of the greatest. For that alone, I stayed with it far beyond the point of giving up on knowing who was who and what was happening to them. But, for an almost three hour movie, I need something to grasp other than great visual stimulation because that can't sustain my interest for three hours alone without some sort of tangible idea or story. There is a story here, somewhere, but unfortunately, since so many of the characters look alike, and the editing makes it impossible to tell whether you're seeing flashbacks or just moving to new scenes, and the dialog offers no help in delineating the plot, I could only tell that some medieval people were trying to kill each other--something about a robbery, but then the robber seems to have caught another robber robbing the same people and took him hostage, other people got away and were taken hostage, who I couldn't figure out, someone's daughter is a nun, maybe, or a pagan witch, or some convoluted excuse to show her naked--in other words, the story is an absolute mess. Others have praised what they call a "non-linear plot." I don't mind a non-linear plot at all, but for this film, the phrase is no better than an excuse for bad story-telling.

I appreciate overseas even to notice this film, although I keep my doubt about the translation, for even the simplified movie dialogues are high-art and historizing. The film is based on Vladislav Vancura's brilliant novel (of the same name) its language level makes it untranslatable. It apparently caused my colleagues-in-comment some misunderstandings, for sure Czech King was no German in that time(even the christianity didn't come in our land germanways), only the noble man and his kidnapped son were.

This film is especially remarkable due to successful conversion of a great book into the great film (I don't recall many other examples at this level) and due to its capture of medieval. I hate medieval films with clean, stylish and crafty interiors, clothes etc. and bright light, for medieval was DARK, HARSH and DIRTY. What's the best part, Kozlik and Lazar were not just family-chieftains or family-heads, they were NOBLE MEN (feudals) and no matter whether they looked (and acted) like prowlers or not. Neither manners nor dresses were the significance of nobles in early medieval, the sword was (which no commoner was allowed to posses), better say swords and estates were.

This film is basically about weakness and strength in men. Lazar is thief and coward, kind of vulture, but Kozlik with his sons represents the willful and harsh power and bravery that summons an admiration of a sort, for they fear only the God, what makes them better christians than the sneaky Lazar jaws-full-of-Jesus.

Marketa, the unspoiled sweet child resembles all the clear, bright and pure in this world (and the only positive aspect of Lazar's sorry life), and is spoiled as everything clean and pure in this world might be. And she's devoted, first to God, then to earthly Mikolas.

I love the metaphore with zealot and little lamb, the connection between Marketa and the God's beast is obvious. Agnus Dei is another clear and bright to be tainted and consumpted by wild Kozlik's House.

And the sound and music, that's the world if its own, there's no music but sudden choir impacts!

Marketa Lazarová is a very good film. It is visually stunning, shot in beautiful high contrast black and white. The films atmosphere - similar to another medieval film "Andrei Rublev" - really makes you feel like you have traveled to the middle ages. This is by no means a feel good movie, and the loss for human compassion is pushed to the extreme. If you are looking for traditional linear storytelling, you will be disappointed with this movie. Marketa Lazarová compromises everything for the atmosphere of the movie: Visual, Sound, Story, Characters and so on. This does not damage the film though; Marketa Lazarová is a much better film because of it. It's one of these film that gives you what it's trying to give you, without forcing it on you or telling you about it. And you only know about it after the film is over.

Very long film, may be a good idea to watch in 2 sessions.

Realism actors, sets location.

Edit make it complicate to follow first half.

Black n white interesthing cinematography.

Yes, we see butchered animals, but it make sense in such a film.

Recommended.

A minor Czech clan falls afoul of the King in medieval times, against the backdrop of Christianity replacing Paganism. "Marketa Lazarová" was voted the all-time best Czech movie in a prestigious 1998 poll of Czech film critics and publicists.

Although I am not a very knowledgeable person on Czech film, I have seen a few and am particularly a fan of what is known as the "New Wave". The Czechs seem to have had a brief period of being more strange and experimental than anyone else in the world, taking Luis Bunuel and blowing him away.

This is not one of those films, but I can see why many regard it as the greatest in Czech history. First of all, it is epic, which always draws in critics. But also, the beautiful cinematography is amazing, and the vocal (perhaps choral?) music is perfect to set the stage. Indeed, the music alone makes this film larger than life.

An absolute visual masterpiece. Otherworldly cinematography.

I would have rated this movie higher if the story was stronger. First 45mins I didn't know what was happening, and the two following hours didn't provide much else. Not much of a plot but it's visuals are immersive and really feels like it's shot in the time it's set.

It's length makes it quite an effort, but I think I'll have to revisit to get a better understanding.

"Marketa Lazarova" is the most well known film of director Frantisek Vlacil. The film is made in the period of the Czech new wave, but is not a part of it. Vlacil was not interested in art as a means of communicating a political message. Vlacil was interested in "l'art pour l'art".

The film is situated in the Middle ages. As can be expected from the above, the middle ages are not a metaphor for current times in this film but a reality in itself.

This reality has two distinct features. In the first place there is no central authority. It is a world of clans, constantly fighting each other. In the second place christianity is on the rise but old pagan religions are certainly not dead. Most people believe in a mixture of these two.

The story of main character Marketa Lazarova (played by the beautiful Magda Vasaryova) is dominated by these two central characteristics of the time.

With respect to the clan characterstic: Marketa is abducted by a rival clan, falls in love with the son of the leader of that clan, gets pregnant and is liberated by her own clan.

With respect to the mixed religion characteristic: Marketa is destined to be a Christian nun. After her liberation she refuses to see her pregnancy as a sin. More and more she prefers the pagan God symbolized by a strong deer with impressive antlers (a symbol of male power) to the Christian cross.

In 2015 "Marketa Lazarova" was restorated. After nearly 50 years it had its premiere in Dutch cinema's.

A devotion of nuns adorned in traditional garb, doves clasped in hand, climb a hill towards a convent, while the naked pale flesh of a pagan woman combs a field towards an ancient tree, a rooster held by its feet, ready to make a blood sacrifice and engage in an incestuous tryst. An endless snow-covered expanse, with the occasional black limbs of brushwood reaching out towards the heavens, creates an idyllic image of serenity; however, what takes place on a day-to-day basis on its landscape is anything but. Peace and purity are routinely disturbed by man's cruelty, whose misdeeds can be seen inked across the powdered surface. Various acts of violence write the passages of society's infancy as it goes about any means of survival. Disputes inevitably met by bloodshed; the conflict between the land's encroaching Christians and existing pagans was just another chapter. Men with a steadfast belief in the lamb of God positioned with the ruling class face the antithetical forces of those wrapped in dried wolf fur and sheepskin, ready to engage in blood politics. This is the tale of Marketa Lazarová, a world of faith and flesh, devotion and desire, a staggering thing of beauty-a rapturous symphony of the middle ages that glides through the air and drags you through the mud-a continuous dance between viscera and cerebral evocation.

Brief interims of peace amidst chaos and barbarity are further reinforced by Vlácil's affinity for the avant-garde, breaking away from the conventional means of creating a historical epic to gesture towards something far more challenging. Omnipresence is withheld from the viewer, creating something akin to a subjective viewpoint, history seen through the eyes of a handful of its inhabitants in their fleeting coming-and-goings. You're there, in the times, among its various lords and peasants, bearing witness to skirmishes, riding horseback to give chase to opposing clans. Lying sprawled out in fields, feeling the earth between your fingers, the overcast cloud-covered skies tracing shadows across all below, or sinking into the surrounding marshlands, the distant howls of a wolfpack in pursuit. The audible crunch of ground frost and ice crystals in the dead of winter, sheathed swords clattering as bodies shift through the terrain. This is what Vlácil and his creative team continuously conjure-eliciting various sensations through its textures and highly rendered environment. Capturing an attentive audience made child's play by virtue of existence.

Further aiding in this extraordinary immersion is the dimension of sound, choral vocals that slice through the snow and filth; huge, proud sung performances cascade about, filling the negative spaces, giving a voice to Vlácil's herculean vision. The full-bodied reverberating gong of bells, woodwind flutes that whispers and slithers, and deep, resonant drum hits, the heartbeat of the living landscape echoing out through the valley, each existing as if to ordain the witnessed events as canonized myth-an oral folk tale to be sung for generations and transformed over time.

In this era, nature still reigns supreme, not yet conquered by man's might. Being "civilized" is a false virtue, a comfort for the fool and wise alike; duplicitousness is the desired means of survival and the closest assurance for any offspring to plant the roots of ancestry. From the marshes to the forest, the deciding factor remains bitter, cruel acts, cold as steal blades that ultimately lead the charge to war, or the gold-plated symbols upheld by wayward men, drunk on wine and power. The Christian chapel may sit at the top of the hill while the pagans writhe in the filth below, but make no mistake about it, in Marketa Lazarová, they're all animals.

Its brilliance is in the moments before action. The pause and the friction. The elation of glory on the battlefield. The ecstasy of sexual conquest. The reprieve of brothers in arms. It savors senses and rewards those that give in to it. To be consumed, to let its stimuli overwhelm inhibitions. It's one of the greatest achievements in cinema, and as far as I'm concerned, is as perfect as a film can ever hope to get.

Marketa Lazarová left me with mixed feelings, although I believe negative impressions were more significant right after the experience. The chaotic and, for me, unsystematic imagery and camera movement made me uncomfortable, however, as the story's grim and dark tone elucidate the visuals, I had to admit that these concerns of mine assist the intentions Mr. Vlacil had in mind after all. On the other hand, the depiction of Kozlik and his men, which was mine primary objection against the imagery, was a bit frugal and uninteresting. The barbaric and primitive behavior as well as their appearance was for me too poorly written and depicted in a sense that I could not really distinguish those people. Consequently, nor Mikolás' nor Alexandra's character could grab my attention or at least create an emotional thread, thus I felt no catharsis whatsoever.

What I need to highlight when I talk about my concerns, are the stereotypical and unnecessary tools by which medieval world was expressed. The Gregorian chants were, in my opinion, overused and unfortunately unpleasant to listen to. The beastly manner and sexuality is on one hand well-founded, on the other, it is needlessly stressful and visually obnoxious - this prudery might seem too conservative and casuistic, still I believe some acts should not be depicted on film.

The passion and unfortunate fate Marketa had to face also seemed, if I may, boring since her identity and characteristics were hidden throughout the film - this might not be a crucial problem, only I did not feel anything towards her and thus, as mentioned, I did not really felt anything at all after the film has ended.

Shift from paganism to Christianity was well-depicted and the presence of mythical and prelogical thinking, as Lévy-Bruhl puts, was equally dominant in both the pagan and medieval souls - the siege scene expresses this perfectly which is why this might be my favorite moment. Radical and extreme thinking is also a mentionable aspect which I felt in every dialogue as well as in the grotesque and uneasy score. The spectacular and unforgettable shots were probably the reason why I concluded that I liked Marketa Lazarová at last.

Called a "haunting epic" by some, and voted best Czech film of all time, "Marketa Lazarova" is a very lengthy film set in the 13th century. Supposedly, it took many years to make, and one can see much work went into its production.

However, this film has little to recommend it. I will say that the camera work is stellar and the cinematography is sometimes stunning. But those aspects alone are not enough.

To simplify, the story is about a lot people walking through bleak landscapes and giving long allegorical speeches about honor and sin.

The narrative lacks clarity and it often feels like the sound was added after filming. That might be okay if it were not so noticeable. Much of the dialogue feels like it was added even though it was not voiced by an actor. If this effect is just a stylistic approach, it did not feel impressive, but distracting.

Much of the music is provided by choral groups voicing wordless shifting tones. That sometimes fits the story, which centers on the intersection of Christian symbolism and pagan myth, yielding a stew of pseudo-meaningful babble. The evolution of man-made mythologies and its effects on different ways to kill one's neighbors has limited appeal. The dialogue is dotted with curses and prayers, showing the similarities between these superstitious incantations.

Some viewers may find the film wordy. Others may enjoy the verbiage. But in the balance, this is an ambitious film with a murky final cut.

Man was a beast before the Middle Ages, but now it was one racked with guilt. Violence was the constant and would continue to be the shaper of worlds but, with the advent of this new religion preaching mercy and penitence, it was probably the first time that this violence was experienced within unprecedented, new frameworks. What had been passed through the blood for centuries in the Teutonic woods as the only means of arranging the world in some order, this instinctive violence, was now felt to be abominable.

In this sense, the religious angst of the medieval man comes from trying to conciliate that ancestral world where carving a blood eagle on the back of a fallen chieftain pleased the gods, with the new ideas of perceiving it, where sins had to be atoned for.

Here we get the tumultuous chronicle of this, the writing of the middle part of history.

We get baroque, medieval art, steeped in religious terror and ancestral guilt. Chances are there's a slew of medieval films out there, but probably not one that is as pungent, with a single exception. We encounter this cruel, pitiless hell on earth where life is meaningless and crazed gods roaming it exact terrible, ironic tolls on the human soul, ten years later in Diabel, by the hand of a certified madman this time.

Spiritually I couldn't be farther apart from this godless vision of tortured human beings, essentially Christian. But as an experience to dwell upon and inhabit, the film offers no quarter. It's a better Valhalla Rising, thirty years before.

What new frameworks here though, how best to experience the torture of the medieval man? The director finds the answer in the Czech New Wave.

The intertitle that opens this delineates what follows as a saga, an epic story of murder and intrigue. The masterstroke here lies in how this saga is told, in fragmenting it from a linear notion where time is a succession (which is the artifice of history) and presenting us with those fragments as a vivid experience of a life bled for and anguished. Which is to say, Marketa Lazarova is not the history of what transpired but the memory of it, which is then arranged into a story.

The camera then sees inside this story deeper than any bard did. And what it sees is that these passions and sufferings are not linear, therefore building up to something or anticipated to come to an end that would justify the pain, but an exponential cycle turning indifferently and without pattern.

Yet here is where the film falters. Having broken this up, the film shies away from the opportunity to look directly at what hides behind it, if anything, and insists we read this as a rhapsody where it's not impossible to consider the degenerate as cruel, flawed heroes who defied the king's rule. Bombastic music swells up in crescendos now and then to remind us that all this is horrible, but fundamentally tragic.

This may be a quibble however. It's a harrowing experience watching these men, small and insignificant at the face of violence, struggle with a pain and madness immemorial, that predates their existence. Omens of skaldic doom abound here, black crows in the bony branches of trees. Whatever they signify or not, whether the gods cackle at all this or are indifferently absent, these sights curdle the blood.