THE WHITE DOVE

 

My love of Czechoslovakian cinema from the 1950's, 60's and 70's, also brings with it a lot of fear too. Due to the political situation these filmmakers were working in during these decades, they often told stories that were either full of symbolism or were allegories to the world they were currently living in, usually of a critical nature. As such, I often worry that I will not understand the full intent of these Czech films or by focusing too heavily on the symbolism, that I end up not paying attention to the narrative and find myself totally lost in the film altogether. Whilst I would never call myself an expert of Czechoslovakian cinema, I am also not a total novice either, thanks largely in part to Second Run DVD's very impressive roster of films from the former country. In fact, looking at the top ten list of greatest Czech films ever (chosen by Czech and Slovak critics in a 1998 poll), I am happy to say that I have seen them all. The film that came in at number one in that poll was Frantisek Vlacil's “Marketa Lazarova” (1967), which I must admit, was a film that I personally struggled with. No doubt from an artistic point of view, the film is stunning to behold, but like I mentioned above, I actually found myself lost in the film's narrative, and at times found it difficult to work out what was happening in the story. However, this wasn't the case with Vlacil's previous film, “The Devil''s Trap”, as I loved that from beginning to end. However, when I came across some stills of the film Vlacil made before “The Devil's Trap”, “The White Dove”, I just knew that this was a film screaming out to me to watch. Once I read the plot synopsis, I was totally sold on “The White Dove”.

The film is about a homing dove, who on her journey back to her owner on a Baltic island, gets caught in a storm and finds herself lost, ending up in Prague. Soon after landing in Prague, she is shot down by a disabled boy from an apartment window, using an air rifle. Immediately feeling regret over his actions, the young boy (along with an artist who lives upstairs) attempts to nurse the dove back to life, but will he able to set it free to be with its owner once it has the strength to go? Meanwhile, back on that Baltic island, the young dove's owner is distraught at the thought of never seeing her beloved bird again.

Oh my goodness, is this movie stunning! As you can see from the plot synopsis, “The White Dove” has the most beautiful story line to it, and once again it succeeds so well due to its simplicity. At only 66 minutes long, it is a tiny story, but it is packed full with emotion, and not one minute of it's running time is wasted. Even more impressive, is the fact that it is also done with very limited dialogue, meaning the film visuals do all the heavy lifting in terms of storytelling. Although using the term “heavy” in regards to “The White Dove” seems totally wrong, as the film feels so light, breezy and effortless. It is such a beautiful film.

The most impressive thing about “The White Dove” is, no doubt, the stunning visuals that director Vlacil and his cinematographer Jan Curik come up with. Some of the shots on display are simply spectacular and awe inspiring. Shot in gorgeous black and white, Vlacil and Curik come up with the most gorgeous images to tell their story. At times it is the simple use of montage to tell a moment perfectly (I'm thinking of the scene when the dove is shot and falls to the ground; we see a shot of glass breaking, then a feather falling, back to the glass which now has blood dripping from it, back to the body of the lifeless bird on the ground). Other times Vlacil uses these virtuoso camera moves that are so complex, particularly due to the timing of events happening within the frame, however they never feel like he is showing off. The shot is used in the best interest of the story. The very final shot of the film is the perfect example of this (seriously, pay attention to both how long the shot is, and how much happens within it). Vlacil also regularly uses frames within frames, which makes sense as he is dealing with an artist's life, but again, it is all done to perfection. There is one shot where he uses multiple mirrors which sees the artist walk directly towards himself, that really made me sit back and wonder how he did it. I would have to say though that the most impressive moment in “The White Dove” is Susanna's (she is the original owner of the dove) dream sequence. During her sleep, young Susanna hears the hushed voice of the dove calling her name. She awakens from her slumber, walks to the back door of her house and opens it, only to reveal the ocean literally on her doorstep, as she immediately steps outside and, like Jesus himself, walks on top of the water in search for her lost dove. How Vlacil and Curik pulled this moment off, I'll never know, but it is “the” highlight of a film filled with many. Even the way Vlacil shoots the apartment block that the young boy and the artist live in is amazing. He chooses the most unusual but spectacular angles that just give the film so much life. I quickly also want to mention that Jan Curik was also the cinematographer of “Valerie and her Week of Wonders”; another stunningly beautiful film, although this time in colour, that everyone should check out.

Another aspect of “The White Dove” that I loved was watching the artist hard at work on his art. He uses a number of different mediums in the film, from painting to sculpting, and they are all so interesting because they feel like they were actually done on camera for the film. Vlacil himself was an artist before becoming a filmmaker and it is no surprise, as he is able to really portray what the artist is doing in a very authentic manner. So often in films when art is shown being created onscreen, it feel like the artwork is already done with an actor just pretending by doing a few brushstrokes. Here we witness an entire painting, that is done on a mirror no less, from start to finish, and I was mesmerised by the whole thing. The pay off to that painting is also just perfect too.

In regards to the story of “The White Dove”, it is beautiful to watch the young boy's recovery as it mirrors the doves. We learn in a flashback, that the boy's disability is more in his mind than physical after he injured himself in front of his friends whilst climbing a large fence at school. Traumatised by the incident, he is too scared to go back outside and play with his friends again, so is stuck in a wheelchair instead. However whilst looking after the dove, he too finds the strength to walk again and to take a chance on life once more. Initially, the artist from upstairs believes that the dove is a lost cause and should be put out of its misery, but through the boy's love he is able to perform a miracle, and bring the bird to full strength again. What is so beautiful about this story is the amount of life this dove brings to the people it inadvertently touches.

So what of the symbolism and potential allegory in “The White Dove” that I was fearing? To be honest, I am sure that the film is full of it, but I was determined not to search for it on my initial viewing for fear of tainting it. However, with the dove often used to symbolise peace, it is not a long bow to draw to think that Vlacil may be saying that through love and caring of one another, that the Czech people can once again find peace. There is also a scene of a clay sculpture having its face violently cut off of it, which seems to symbolise a loss of identity or something of the sort, but I would be lying if I said I had fully analysed the film with this gaze. Whilst I am sure that it is there, I can guarantee that even if you do not notice any of the potential symbolism, you will still be able to love and enjoy “The White Dove”.

Overall, I found Frantisek Vlacil's “The White Dove” to be a very special film indeed. It is such a simple story but packed full of emotion. Combined with it stunning visuals, it gives the film the quality of a visual poem. The complexity and precision of some of the shots on display cannot be overlooked, but what is most impressive about them is the way that Vlacil makes them feel so effortless and poetic. I loved this film so, so much, and think it is one of my most favourite cinematic discoveries since I found “The Cranes Are Flying” back during the covid lock-downs. One thing is for certain, it is a film I will revisit often, and one that makes me want to sit down and re-watch Vlacil's “Marketa Lazarova” as soon as possible.

4.5 Stars.