Valérie au pays des merveilles

A "coming of age" story like no other, this Czech Gothic fairytale is possibly the most lyrical film ever made. Valerie, a 13 year old staying with her grandmother while her parents are away has her first menstruation, triggering a series of interlocking dreams about lustful vampires who prey upon her youth. Despite the monstrous goings-on, the film is a buoyant and sensual pleasure to watch. The camera-work and composition never ceases to amaze and the energy of its tuneful folklike score propels the convoluted story forward effortlessly. And much credit should be given to Jaroslava Schallerova as Valerie who inhabits the role with the right balance of knowledge and wonder

In the 1960s British TV screened a good number of European Fairy tales like 'The Singing Ringing Tree' for children (probably because they were cheap product). They were often strange and grotesque evoking a real sense of the uncanny nature of pre-sanitised fairy tales. Valerie and Her Weeks of Wonders is made in this vein. Redemption may market the film as a 'virgin comes into sexuality' 70s softcore film, but it offers something more than this. There is an enormous amount of care taken in the film's visual composition and the music. Standing on the border between horror and fairy tale it brings out the latent combination of erotic desire, aggression and fantasy that links the two genres. At times the film borders on the sublime with its evocation of dreamlike imagery. Centred around Valerie's quest to discover the identity of her parents they are revealed to be duplicitous shape changers - at one moment a handsome man or woman and the next a hideous vampire beast. Eschewing the rules of Hollywood linearity and character continuity this film re-creates subjective space and affords us a welcome space in which to dream.

Exquisite aesthetic is not enough for me, especially in itself. I want layered stratagems, nested worlds, the built of an oblique carpentry, the stuff that Lynch deals in, Wojciech Has, Ruiz; or a unified space impregnated with those things, as in the films of Antonioni or Resnais. I want magic, the spontaneous and impromptu, to well up from a familiar view of life, poetry from mundane essentials, for example the scenes of Tokyo roads in Solyaris is the most amazing rite of passage I have seen. It's passage from a tangible world.

With something like this I have no point of entry. There is no double perspective, or one foot in a world that matters. It's one long psychosexual dream stirred up from restless sleep, a young girl's guilt nightmare of a throbbing sexuality.

Life inside the grandmother's house is sterile, but outside it booms with activity and rigor. Of course once out there, the adult world poses a constant threat; its web of dark, barely comprehensible forces - none too subtly dressed up in monk garbs, there's also a demonic figure in black who addresses from the pulpit a congregation of fearful maidens - out to drink life from youth. The film appropriates suitable imagery from the vampire film.

So even though the artistry is excellent, the nightmare effective, I am just not at all interested in teasing out symbolic detail from a rural pageant. There is this one layer, and the most pressing question for the film seems to be how much of that is a dream. But again, something hardly worth puzzling over.

This is a problem in general with the surreal part of the Czech school; while inventive craftsmen, they cannot seem to layer their narratives around a solid, penetrating core. So we get beautiful but scattershot imagination. On the other hand, their comedies are superb for the same reason.

The lovely and enchanting Jaroslava Schallerova stars as the title character, a girl on the verge of womanhood. She exists in a medieval fantasy land where such things as vampires and witches can exist. She seeks to learn the truth about her parentage, encountering a rich variety of characters. Among them are the likable, well-meaning Eaglet and the creepy "man" known as The Polecat.

This won't appeal to everybody; some viewers may believe it to be too "arty". But it's richly rewarding for those looking for an unconventional take on genre fare. Drawing inspiration from fairy tales such as "Alice in Wonderland" and "Little Red Riding Hood", director Jaromil Jires draws us into an intoxicating atmosphere. Music, costumes, and sets are all absolutely breathtaking. Jires dares to take his time with the pacing, yet his film runs a scant 77 minutes. It touches upon such subjects as innocence (and the loss of same), jealousy, vanity, sex, religion, and decadence. Viewers should be aware, however, that despite the presence of elements such as vampires and witches, that this is anything but a typical horror film.

Extremely well acted, heartfelt, and thoughtful, this is an interesting entertainment. It would play very well as part of a double feature with the American film "Lemora: A Child's Tale of the Supernatural". It may not have much in the way of gore or nudity, but it doesn't need these things to make an impact.

Eight out of 10.

This is the best "girl gets her period" film I've ever seen. The week she comes of age, Valerie sees sex through many lenses. It is a very confusing time for her, full of danger and sensuality.

The film makes great use of color and music. The entire feature has a dreamy quality, not least because of the relentless and uneven symbolic representations. This film should be shown to every teenage girl, who should then go back and watch it again and again as she ages.