Kolya

Weekly Alibi

DIRECTED BY: Jan Sverak

REVIEWED: 03-12-97

Some films succeed despite themselves. Kolya is one such film. Despite its shameless sentiment and unabashed heart-tugging, it has come from nowhere (well, Czechoslovakia actually) to capture an Academy Award nomination for Best Foreign Language Film. From the word go, you know that Kolya is the kind of film you're going to fall for. There's no use trying to fight it. No matter how hard you try to resist its grumpy-old-man-meets-cute-little-kid plot, you know it's going to be a hopeless battle. No matter how flinty your heart, no matter how iron your will, you're just doomed to be grinning and weepy along with the rest of us by the time the end credits roll.

The story of Kolya takes place in Prague in 1988 (for those with short memories, that's just before the fall of the Soviet Union). At the age of 55, our protagonist Frantisek Louka (Zdenek Sverak) is hovering somewhere between happy lifelong bachelor and grumpy old man. Louka was once a proud member of the Czech symphony, but a little tiff with the local Communist government led to Louka's blacklisting. Now Louka scrapes together what little cash he can by restoring tombstones and playing the odd cello gig at funerals. His nights are filled with a rondelet of entertaining but meaningless sexual liaisons. When a friend suggests a way for Louka to score some quick cash (by marrying a Russian immigrant so she can get her citizenship papers), our protagonist jumps at the opportunity. Soon after the sham marriage takes place, however, the young bride skips the country leaving her five-year-old son Kolya (Andrej Chalimon) in Louka's not-so-able care.

Can you guess what happens next? Of course you can. This wide-eyed little waif soon melts our hard-hearted bachelor's heart. We're all in store for some warm fuzzy feelings. Still, despite the familiar trappings, Kolya works. Much of the film's success comes from its ability to work on several levels. Louka, perhaps justifiably, holds a grudge against the Russians who occupy his country. Since Kolya is Russian, Louka initially has no love for the foundling. The story may be simple, but the larger issues of our contentious world loom.

Symbolism also abounds. At first, Kolya dreams of birds. Shy and unable to even communicate with his new Czech step-father (they both speak a different language), Kolya spends his days staring out the window at the pigeons that perch on Louka's window ledge. As Kolya hangs out with Louka on his daily rounds to the funeral homes, the young boy starts to become obsessed with death. His childhood doodles turn to images of coffins and crosses. Louka soon begins to realize that his own life is too mired in the trappings of death. He resolves to give the kid a real life. He takes the boy on sightseeing trips, camping trips, and in the process, our bachelor hero starts to come to life again.

Kolya may be one of the most enjoyable and accessible films to drift our way from across the seas in quite some time (since 1995's Il Postino?). What could have been a sappy allegory about world peace, is instead a clever, humorous heartwarmer. Go see it. Even if it does have a cute little snot-nose for a title character.

--Devin D. O'Leary

Capsule Reviews
Kolya
Kolya

Film Vault Suggested Links
Mondo
Love Serenade
Irma Vep

Related Merchandise
Search for related videos at Reel.com
Search for more by Jan Sverak at Reel.com
Search for related books at Amazon.com
Search for related music at Amazon.com

Rate this Film
If you don't want to vote on a film yet, and would like to know how others voted, leave the rating selection as "Vote Here" and then click the Cast Vote button.