As Pequenas Margaridas

The opening of 'Daisies' features a montage of two subjects very familiar to 1966 Eastern Bloc film audiences: work and war, as shots of an industrial machine alternate with views of rubbling city from an airplane bomber's point of view. These are masculine subjects in a very masculine culture. Or they seem to be. The machine features a circular mechanism, and represents repetition, but also productivity, and might be said to represent female principles, whereas the war footage is of pure destruction. The heroines of 'Daisies' embody both these gender-specific realms, and manage to create something new. They are idle, but, like George Costanza, their indolence depends on relentless invention. They are destructive, but out of the destruction they produce something new.

'Daisies' was a product of the Czech New Wave, but seems a million miles away from its most famous contemporaries, the films of Menzel and Forman. These latter, though liberal and anti-totalitarian, were artistically conservative - deliberately humanist works, where 'real', psychologically plausible characters exist in 'real' places, and every narrative progression makes logical sense. If they seem 'timeless' to us now, it is because they didn't truly engage with their own times.

And, of course, they were male. Where they seem closer to the 19th century novel, or classic Hollywood cinema, Chytilova's peers are the great European modernists, Godard, Paradjanov, Makajev, Rivette, or the plays of Ionesco. Where Forman and Menzel framed their illusions of realism in formal coherence, Chytilova revels in formal instability. These aren't psychologically plausible characters in a cause-and-effect universe. We first meet the two Maries after the opening credits, and their automaton gestures, with accompanying sound effects, continue the movement of the machine.

The plot basically consists of the girls trying to chat up old men who'll feed them, but what they really do is make a nonsense of plot. The recurring motif is the posy of roses worn by Marie II, and thrown by her to further the story - we remember the nursery rhyme 'a ring a ring of rosies, a pocketful of posies, a tishoo, a tishoo, we all fall down'. And everything falls down here, in a game where the rules have splintered and fragmented.

The film mixes monochrome, colour, and unstably tinted scenes. Sequences that begin 'sensibly' are broken down, by slapstick, changes of register, 'impossible' changes of location or physics, or are turned from natural scenes into the robotic movements of a clockwork toy going out of control. This disruption has a theoretical point - in one scene, the girls find their bodies cut up as they find their identities dissolved by conflicting desires, social expectations and representations. In another, they wander around a dream space, wondering why people pay no attention to them, realising that 'logically', they mustn't exist, because Western culture has no place for them.

Just as they parody the notions of work and war (in the climactic food orgy, martial army music soundtracks a cake fight), so these sprites play with and destroy the assumptions of Western humanism, its claims to adequately represent 'reality', especially in a time of such bewildering, radical change, as in the 1960s. They do to cinema what Ionesco did to literature, cut it into shreds.

The whole thing plays like parody Godard, with Marie II as Anna Karina, with meaningful conversations about love accompanied by the girls cutting up sausages and bananas: the butterfly sequence is a wicked lampoon of 'Vivre sa Vie'. Where Godard's heroines remained fixed and stared at, the two Maries laugh, look, escape, see their frame and break it, insist on their body as something more than an object, something they can play with themselves.

Not even the heroines' liberating subversivess is fixed - their mindless appetite is punished as often as their formal iconoclasm is celebrated. But for all its theoretical rigour, 'Daisies' never sacrifices its sense of humour - I first saw it when I was ten, and loved it for its slapstick fun, its narrative unpredictability, its playful soundtrack, and its tireless visual invention. I still love it now.

This was the most pleasurable thing I've ever watched. The scenes were beautifully put together. The style changed from black and white to sepia to colourful, sometimes with a blueish tint, sometime with other colours. I loved the saccadic camera movements that matched certain sounds, e.g. a phone ringing. The actresses' styling (clothes, hair, makeup) was also beautiful. The music was very good (e.g. an epic battle kind of piece of music during the cake fight between the girls). I liked the fact that the plot's point was to explore how the girls' reaction to the world's "badness" will end. But there were certain points that I didn't quite understand. I didn't really like how the girls sometimes spoke in a robotic manner, or how they seemed too naive and silly. Maybe that was the point: perfection isn't art anyway. I appreciate the fact that the director (Vera Chytilova) made this film in a time when women didn't have the freedom they have today. One of the main themes in the film is women breaking the barriers of the society they live in, and the rules dictating their behaviour. It really is emblematic in that sense. Overall I really enjoyed watching this film, but I didn't get where the plot was going, and where it actually went, plus the details I mentioned. But I would recommend it to anyone.

This is really worth seeing. It's hard to explain why. There is no plot. There is no character development. There is a lot of beautiful surrealism. Like with anything from Dada and related art, the full effect only hits you after you stop asking "Why?" and "Whaa?" and "What the hell?". When you past that point, you'll have a great time.

The charming nihilism captured in the movie is something that we couldn't duplicate nowadays, even if we tried.

Daisies is a wonderful embodiment of the Prague Spring. Hedonism and consumerism get criticised while the inflammatory criticism is coded more subtly. At a time when Stalinism was being re-examined and the reputations of many Czechs were being "rehabilitated", Daisies was a well-masked critique of these reforms. The crazy 1960s cinematography, the strange accents of the two main characters, and the sheer hedonism (the economy was quite poor at the time) give a surreal edge to what is not a surreal film. The film also hints of a Czechoslovakia identifying with Western Europe and impatient with the regime -- despite its reforms. The cinematography is fun and the story is a definite upending of the usual role of women in Czech films. If you're looking for deep symbolism, you'll be disappointed. But as a fun romp, a sign of the times, and a historical piece, Daisies is superb.

For its renewal of the spirit of DADA, for its sixties potlatch, for its fine excess, for its playful modernist montage, this is certainly the most formally revolutionary of all the Czech New Wave films I have seen. It escapes and transcends the heavy moral dissidence of the other great Prague Spring directors, and even manages to transcend its time and place. An authentic work of creative genius, its 'high spirits' belong to another world, a world which subverts the grip of everyday totalitarianism, and, as DADA updated, topples the philistines left and right.