Trens Estreitamente Vigiados

The explanation for the title of Jiri Menzel's film is that it was apparently derived from a military designation employed by the Germans who ran the railways in occupied Czechoslovakia, and would probably have indicated that the highest level of security was to be observed for the whole length of the railway system over which a train so designated had to pass.

'Closely Observed Trains' - its title in Britain is probably the better translation - sounds like the rambling memoir of some harmlessly eccentric train-buff: Gauge numbers, timetables, wheel configurations - that sort of thing! In fact, as we are finally shocked to realize, it describes precisely the munitions train which the Czech Resistance successfully target at the film's conclusion. The title is deeply ironic, therefore, since the seemingly innocent observance of ordinary life, that goes on in and around the country Station where the film is set, hides the seething secret of the meek and powerless, which is that, since their natural desire for life and happiness has been thwarted, they must encompass a more violent and final solution to their problems. With his death, the unhappy young trainee Václav becomes, not a hero! but the authentic representative of his desparate fellow countrymen, whose virility has become a mere joke - a land whose history has been stopped by occupation, and which therefore has no posterity.

It is, one might say, a land 'without issue' as obituary notices would put it. This adds a curious twist to the bottom-stamping scene: It reveals, behind the charming buffoonery, a society where even relations between the sexes must have an official, bureaucratic imprimatur - where, indeed, the pillars of society are themselves so perverted as to take their only sexual pleasure in feasting their elderly eyes on a young woman's (as it were) officially sanctioned nether regions. The more one thinks about it - as the blast blows Václav's hat back down the platform, and simultaneously forces us back into the film we have just seen through the shocking force of such an unexpected denoument - the more the German Occupation's stamps of approval must appear as a form of evirated official rape. Of the land, as of the girl, of course.

The explosion of the sabotaged munitions train wakes us from our comfortable and patronising sojourn in a Never-Never Land where charming and harmless buffoons exist merely for our own amusement, just as its repercussions signal the eventual destruction and extirpation from Czechoslovakia of just such patronising Nazi superiority. The film alerts us to the fact that the gentlest contempt is as cruel and destructive as the most brutal jackbooted hate: A collaborationist gesture is satirized, and the inky soul of bureaucracy is exposed.

The most decent and honest person in the film, apart from the young Conductress (who appears to be a Resistance agent), is Václav, largely because of what is conventionally seen as the tragedy of his doomed love-life: He is untainted by the conforming adult world around him - a tormented innocent, like Christ, and similarly destined to be mankind's saviour through suffering.

Perhaps his cap, rolling down the Station platform before the blast, represents the crown of thorns that every Czech had to pick up, before the new Rome of Hitler's Germany could be defeated? Certainly, this is not a sunny film. It is a film that demonstrates the necessity for the performance of the sternest duty: To suffer, and to die if necessary, for one's country. And by reading us this lesson without any of the rhetorical and false heroics of the conventional action-movie, Jiri Menzel refuses to excuse his audience from enlisting for such hard service; by definition, a conquered people have no heroes, so that they have no alternative but to struggle in small ways, accumulating the stature of a Nation organically. This is, after all, the only possible repudiation of the Nazi ideology of the Ubermensch.

Truly, 'the meek shall inherit the earth.'

Closely Watched Trains is my favorite movie ever. It is 90 minutes of cinematic perfection: funny, sad, exquisitely shot, beautiful to look at (watch it twice, so that the second time around you can focus on Menzel's genius in composing his shots), and insightful--profound, even. Its structure will make any film student drool with envy. The acting is flawless, particularly the performance by Josef Somr as train-dispatcher Hubicka. Please resist any impulse to see it as a "political" film--it is nothing of the sort. It's just a beautiful work of art. Note: Closely Watched Trains won the Oscar for Best Foreign Film in 1967.

Imagine coming of age in a time when you are surrounded by sexual images. This Academy Award winning film can be the Czechoslovakian version of so many of the Judd Apatow films we see today.

Brilliantly photographed in black and white, it shows Milos (Václav Neckár) trying to become a man. His first opportunity with his girlfriend Masa (Jitka Bendová) ends in disaster and he attempts suicide. His doctor advises him to get a more experienced woman to teach him, so he goes on a quest to find one.

This all takes place during the Nazi occupation of Czechoslovakia, so there are many political overtones to the film. It is hilarious as Milos works at a train station where his coworker Hubicka (Josef Somr) doesn't seem to have problems getting action whenever he wants.

He does manage to arrange help for Milos, but tragedy strikes before he is able to use his new found knowledge with his girlfriend.

An excellent picture and a real funny story that manages to avoid the crudity of modern tales of the same sort.

When I saw this film, about twenty years ago, I knew nothing about Bohumil Hrabal, the author of the novel, and Jiri Menzel, the director. Later I knew about the situation that many talented people went through in Czechoslovakia after "The Prague springtime" and the invasion of the country by the soviet tanks in 1968. Now I am a fan of the czech sense of humour but I still remember that evening twenty years ago when I saw what was probably my first czech film and the enormous pleasure that causes me this almost perfect movie.

The reason to watch "Closely watched trains" again was the death of Jiri Menzel in september 2020. Jiri Menzel was part of the Czech new wave in the early '60s, of which Milos Forman was the main protagonist. The films of the directors of this movement were often not explicit political, but implicit they were socially critical nonetheless.

In both "Closely watched trains" and "The Firemen's Ball" (1967, Forman) the comrades are far from model workers. They prefer to be lazy above being tired. This is beautifully illustrated in the beginning scene of "Closely watched trains" in which main character Milos Hrma (Vaclav Neckar) prepares for his first working day on a minor train station, a job he selected because of the expected lack of workload.

In 1966 Menzel was not blamed for the implicit criticism in "Closely watched trains". In the first place the "Spring of Prague" was still going on and in the second place the story was situated during the Second World War and not during Communist domination. The situation had totally changed when "Larks on a string" (1969) was released. This time the "Spring of Prague" was over after the invasion in 1968 and the story was situated after the "liberation" from the Germans. After "Larks on a string" the career of Menzel came to a standstill. Worth mentioning is that both films were based on a novel by Bohumil Hrabal. Menzel liked to adapt books of this author to the screen.

Having not much to do during working hours, there is a lot of flirtation on the workplace. We can see that in "Loves of blonde" (1965, Milos Forman) as well as in "Closely watched trains". This is were the problems for Milos begin, because he suffers from premature ejaculation. This gives rise to performance anxiety towards that nice conductress he has an eye on. During the whole film there are sexual undertones, such as in the scene in which a peasant woman feeds up a goose by massaging his neck.

The combination of war time and coming of age shares "Closely watched trains" with "Lacombe Lucien" (1974, Louis Malle). In "Lacombe Lucien" the boy chooses the part of the Germans and abuses the power he obtained in this way against a Jewish girl. In "Closely watched trains" the boy choose to cooperatie with the resistance to prove that he is a real man. The end of the film is tragic and contrasts strongly with the bittersweet tone of the rest of the movie.