KOLYA (PG-13)
Director: Jan Sverak
Stars: Zdenek Sverak, Andrej Chalimon, Libuse Safrankova, Stella Zazvorkova
Running Time: 102 minutes.
Set in the Czech republic on the eve of the collapse of communism, Kolya is a film of real warmth, charm and surprising
humanity from the cold heart of Eastern Europe.
This touching and gently amusing story centres around Frantisek Louka (Zdenek Sverak), a disgraced former cellist with the
Czech Philharmonic Orchestra who has fallen on hard times after upsetting a powerful political boss. A middle aged bachelor
struggling to make ends meet by also repainting names on gravestones, Louka reluctantly agrees to participate in a marriage of
convenience with a young Russian woman eagerly looking to emigrate to West Germany. In return, he gets a small fortune in
cash and she gains the valuable citizenship which enables her to quickly travel west.
As a consequence, Louka finds himself suddenly left to look after her five year old son Kolya (played with real charm and
engaging warmth by appealing young newcomer Andrej Chalimon). The grumpy old man gradually softens and discovers
those paternal instincts he has for so long denied, as the boy's presence slowly changes the direction of his life. Louka begins
to take an interest in the child and forms a deep bond with him, that is ultimately torn apart again after the collapse of the Berlin
Wall, when the boy's mother eventually returns to reclaim him. There is a distinct lack of sentimentality to the seemingly cold
ending of the film, but the hard dose of reality is a welcome tonic to the contrived sentimentality of many Hollywood films and
somehow seems apt.
Although Kolya is not an overtly political film, it is set against the backdrop of the so-called Velvet Revolution of 1989-90, as
the Czech people slowly embraced democracy and western freedom. This is a story of reconciliation, of breaking down
barriers, in which the relationship between the grumpy old man and the five year old boy becomes a metaphor for the larger
political changes that occurred in Europe with the collapse of communism. There are sly subversive digs at the loss of national
identity under the Russians, and the Czechs' gradual lurching towards freedom and independence after 40 years of communist
repression parallels Louka's rediscovery of his essential humanity. Prague has never looked so wonderful, due largely to
Vladimir Smutny's gorgeous cinematography which captures the timeless beauty of the city and gives the film a surface warmth.
Kolya is a collaboration between Sverak, who wrote the compassionate screenplay, and his director son Jan, who has
established himself as one of central Europe's most exciting young film makers. This is, ultimately, a thoroughly charming and
appealing film, that gains much of its warmth from the natural and engaging presence of Chalimon in the title role. Sverak
himself also captures his character's mix of severity and yet softness and warmth, in a nicely textured performance.