Byt

There's something about art and artists. Sometimes the effect of the art isn't a conversation between the viewer and the artist, instead between the artist and the viewer. And often neither party knows it.

Its particularly apparent when the artist is damaged in some way and he or she create art that conveys that damage. This is common, I think because when there is a human trying to reach us, we allow an inadequate vehicle. I think the effect is so common and so well understood that weak artists, artists who cannot create powerful work, feign this dynamic.

Here we have an odd little student film, almost a student film. It conveys a world that doesn't work -- not comically but frustratingly as if it were deliberately teasing us. Whatever is behind this flat is evil.

Watch closely and you will see that the film is rather incompetent. But we don't notice, because as with Tim Burton we see the strange dude who made it. And we imagine what type of man he would have to be, and under what conditions he lives.

(I could have chosen a dozen filmmakers as examples and you would have equally known what I meant.) Either way, this is uninteresting.

Contrast this to "The Cube" of about the same time, the one by Jim Henson, also a puppeteer making the bridge to film-making. It is based on much the same notions. Yet Henson's little project is a marvel of competence, several competences.

What we have here instead is just a glass through which we see a sad man.

Ted's Evaluation -- 1 of 3: You can find something better to do with this part of your life.

There's probably some greater meaning to this short film from Jan Svankmajer, but I'm not even going to bother with it. All that you need to know is that 'Byt / The Flat (1968)' involves a man trapped in an apartment that more closely resembles a carnival house-of-horrors, and where the laws of physics and logic don't hold much sway. From this simple premise, the Czech Republic's master animator reaches into the bizarre depths of his mind to construct a version reality that doesn't quite make sense; it's a surreal nightmare where nothing operates as it should, everything goes wrong, and it seems that the frustration will never end. Water spews forth from a wood-fire stove; a single swinging lightbulb bashes a hole in the brick wall; a hearty meal goes uneaten when the utensils constantly play up; a water tap disgorges a solid rock. This is one of Svankmajer's few ventures into live-action film-making, though the technique of stop-motion – utilised so effectively in films such as 'Dimensions of Dialogue (1982)' – forms the backbone of his creepy visual effects.

It may all mean something, but I'm more interested in the mood that Svankmajer is able to create through his use of visuals, particularly the stop-motion, which leaves the viewer bewildered and disorientated. The images are accompanied by an original soundtrack by Zdenek Liska, but it's often too dramatic and overwhelming to suit the film; something more restrained and mysterious would, I think, have been more appropriate to the tone for which Svankmajer was aiming. Ivan Kraus portrays the flat's unfortunate victim, and he responds to each new obstacle with a stunned deadpan frown that only occasionally betrays the enormous frustration and desperation that he is experiencing. The short film ends with the man, having bizarrely just encountered a visitor wielding an axe and a chicken, tearing down a wooden door to reveal a wall of signed names, with a pencil dangling alongside. Some have interpreted this as referencing the secret police interrogations that took place in Czechoslovakia when the Soviets invaded in 1968. It's a compelling theory, I'll admit, but I enjoyed 'Byt' mainly for its visuals.

A man is in a rundown apartment. No reason is given us. As he deals with the objects in the apartment, natural law begins to disappear. His acting in a normal way proves to be destructive. There are so many events, including looking in a mirror and seeing the back of one's head. A soup spoon with holes that doesn't allow him to eat the soup. On and on. It's all so surreal and so frightening. Someone else mentioned Kafka. HIs fingerprint is all over this.

My first experience of Czech animator and filmmaker Jan Švankmajer's unusual cinematic world came via the more traditionally structured film Little Otik (2000). In that film we had the notion of a wooden puppet-like figure being brought to life in a more psychological reinterpretation of the world of Pinocchio, as well as various Eastern European folktales; with Svankmajer's usually startling imagination held back by some literally wooden performances and a rather flat visual presentation. With that, his most recent film in mind, we come to the film in question; with Byt, or The Flat (1968), standing as Svankmajer's earliest experiment in live-action film-making, and one that continues a number of themes and motifs developed in his previous work, in particular The Last Trick (1964) and The Garden (1968).

Even with this in mind, Byt is an entirely different kind of film from what we might normally expect to see from Švankmajer, with the live action elements driving the story, while the more broadly recognisable aspects of stop-motion animation are utilised as mere special effects. Regardless, the story here is truly fascinating; with Švankmajer creating an extraordinary work of pure, cinematic imagination that not only impresses and excels on the level of pure entertainment, but also offers deeper themes and interpretations presented as highly intelligent satire. It also shows Švankmajer tapping into the territory of his fellow countryman and contemporary Roman Polanski, and in particular, Polanski's cinema of confinement. In this respect you could draw obvious parallels with a film such as Repulsion (1965), not to mention the more recognisable psychological themes presented in other Polanski works, such as Knife in the Water (1962) and Cul-de-sac (1966).

You could also argue that there was something of cross-reference of influences going on here, with Švankmajer taking influence from Repulsion whilst Polanski would take certain elements from this film and apply them to his later flawed masterwork, The Tenant (1976). However, whereas Polanski's work was intended to terrorise the audience, both on a playful and entirely devastating level, the sense of suffocating claustrophobia and mocking surrealism presented by Švankmajer here is somewhat sardonic; intended to entertain as well as provoke, and clearly offering something of a political comment on the state of post-Second World War Europe. The fact that the film features an appearance from fellow filmmaker Juraj Herz is also interesting, with Herz creating one of the greatest films of the Czech New Wave, The Cremator (1968). As with that particular film, Byt makes obvious references to the treatment of the Jews both before and during the Holocaust, and the general sense of fear and paranoia that was immediately recognisable to European filmmakers of Švankmajer's generation.

There are of course deeper themes and issues expressed in the film than this, but your understanding and interpretation of them can easily come secondary to your enjoyment of Švankmajer's great style and lasting atmosphere. The film could also be seen as something on an influence on Sam Raimi's classic no-budget shocker The Evil Dead (1983), with the idea of a character confined to a single location that reacts against him in a way that is both horrifying and surreal. This similarity is also illustrated by the use of stop-motion animation alongside elements of live action, something that may have also been an influence to Japanese filmmaker Shinya Tsukamoto on imaginative and expressionistic films like Tetsuo: The Iron Man (1988) and Tokyo Fist (1995).

Despite misgivings from certain Švankmajer devotees who feel that the over-reliance on live action animations is ineffective, this film for me ranks amongst the very best of the filmmaker's short-form, experimental works. The mood and style created by Švankmajer here is extraordinary, with the filmmaker creating a range of emotions from terror to confusion and even slapstick comedy. In this respect, he is aided by the great performance from Ivan Kraus as the man trapped in this confusing psychological space, and by the subtle use of metaphor and symbolism that seems to suggest so much, without offering any kind of easy answers.

.. and Beckett's and Sartre's too.

One of the most wildly inventive short films ever made comes from Czech master surrealist Jan Svankmajer.

Employing stop-motion, live-action and a bottomless pit of absurd genius, The Flat is a film that keeps on giving. Just when you think it can't get any better (or worse if you're the protagonist), it does just that.

The score is beautiful yet appropriately unsettling and gets right under your skin.

A rare film that makes you grin and squirm at the same time.