Erotikon

75 years after the release of EROTIKON, I had a chance to see it in a modern cinema in Wroclaw (Poland). The wonderful experience was intensified by the live background music played by the members of Prague Archa theater. It was a lovely return to the end of silent era, the year 1929. The film EROTIKON, made by Gustav Machaty, caused controversy among the audiences of that time. What particularly shocked them was the way the director showed love scenes. Some admired it, some condemned it and, as a result, it was underrated and lost for years. Fortunately, the copy was found in the 1980s and restored for today's audience who can admire the genius of Machaty.

EROTIKON, like many silent movies, does not offer much action. The content of the movie is, from today's perspective, quite naive. It is a story of complicated love affairs of George (Olaf Fjord) and his number of women. But, astonishingly, love is not showed as sweetly as in other movies of that time. Some love scenes are, indeed, very open and without taboo (Machaty's way of showing sex was mostly revealed in EXTASE (1933).

There are three most memorable moments in this movie:

• a love scene between George and Andrea (Ita Rina). It is in no way vulgar but it is directed towards her face in ecstasy for most of the time. That is probably the thing that shocked the audiences.

• a scene of playing chess. The thrilling atmosphere is really extraordinary. In very few thrillers nowadays will you find an equally well made scene! WONDERFUL!

• a considerable number of funny slogans throughout the movie. Some are dated but still funny in a way.

For anyone who likes European cinema and for whom film is art in itself, no matter of when it was made, Erotikon is a must to see. It was a great work of the Czech cinema. Partly thanks to this movie, I do believe that silent films may still be highly entertaining. Of course in an entirely different way. They require INTERPRETATION rather than AUTOMATIC WATCHING! Lilian Gish (1893-1993), a famous silent movie star, said once when asked about film art that "silent movies were well on their way to developing into an entirely new art; it was not just pantomime but something wonderfully expressive." After seeing EROTIKON, one may infer the same.

I just stumbled across Seduction on an obscure Roku channel (Pub-D-Hub) under its title EROTIKON, and was really wowed by the gorgeous cinematography, subtle and complex acting and effective visual storytelling. And that last one is especially important because the inter-titles on this print were in the original Czech, and therefore completely alien to me.

The leads were both richly complex people, evolving over the course of the brisk hour and a half from seemingly shallow types (virgin and callow seducer) into rich, fully rounded characters.

A great exercise in visual storytelling!

'Erotikon (1929)' was released just as the arrival of "talkies" was stifling (at least temporarily) the artistry out of cinema, and it's one of the most lusciously-photographed films of its era. Czech director Gustav Machatý blends melodrama with unexpectedly graceful visual flourishes that communicate emotions as well as actions. In moments of stress, and particularly when photographing the vigorous movement of trains (symbolising a fast-paced society that values fleeting sexual encounters over long-term commitments), he uses a frenetic hand-held camera to marvellous effect. Just watch how Machatý contrasts the slow, sensual bliss of the heroine's first sexual encounter with the grotesque prolonged agony of child-birth. In both sequences, the camera is moving, capturing the numbing euphoria of the moment, but the overall emotional mood of each scene is quite disparate.

Following this beautifully-emotive opening act, 'Erotikon' begins to more closely resemble a romantic melodrama in the vein of, say, Milestone's 'The Garden of Eden (1928).' There's not only a romantic triangle, but a veritable polygon of competing affections: Andrea (Ita Rina) shuns a noble gentleman in favour of the man who (presumably) took her virginity, who himself is juggling a married mistress. Machatý, like F.W. Murnau, places particular emphasis on the human face, beautifully capturing the subtle inflections of suspicion, anger and desire that so unmistakably speak louder than words. Andrea finds herself in the upper- class social scene, which carries the faint stench of sleaze; it's an environment that encourages disloyalty by its own shallowness and superficiality. The corruptive sexual indiscretion of Machatý's upper- class reminded me of Jean Renoir, particularly 'The Rules of the Game (1939)' and 'Elena and Her Men (1956).'