The National Film Archive has published an extensive collection of expert texts that examine the festival history from 1946 to 1990. The 500-page book aims to prove that even during the totalitarian regime, film festivals were not unnecessary events. It also highlights that these festivals were not limited to the Eastern Bloc and provided an opportunity for Chinese and Brazilian filmmakers to gain visibility.
The book also revives the concept of festival diplomacy personified by A. M. Brousil. It showcases the premiere of national cinematography from Indonesia to Mongolia and the increasing number of awards. In 1952, the jury awarded fifty prizes, with Soviet films always receiving recognition. However, the question was who else would receive the trophy and with what level of distinction, as Moscow often received higher recognition compared to the West, which mainly honored individual performances, such as that of Al Pacino.
During the normalization period, there was a challenge in ensuring the attendance of Soviet films, which faced boycotts after the invasion of the occupying forces. To address this, individual titles were given patronage, which involved attracting audiences with discounts directly in companies. For example, the Uranium Mines in Tachov took patronage over the film “Oáza.” Patronage accounted for fifty percent of the festival’s revenue until the mid-1980s.
A special chapter dedicated to foreign stars is symbolized by a photograph of a surprised Tony Curtis holding a sausage on a stick. The organizers wanted them, but they couldn’t afford them, so they created a “program for work use” during their visit.
For actresses, it was emphasized that they lived for their art, not scandals, and they were sometimes replaced by domestic colleagues or other celebrities. For example, Jiřina Bohdalová was introduced in the film “Dáma na kolejích” by Yuri Gagarin, and other activities such as football matches or discussions with miners were organized.
The festival diary had a section called “They Didn’t Come, But They Think of Us,” which expressed regret over the absence of stars like Olivier, Tati, or Loren. When Claudia Cardinale arrived for just one day, she tried on Jablonec jewelry.
In the absence of Western stars, “Slavic beauties” were celebrated, especially Polish actresses who often experienced a career breakthrough in Karlovy Vary. Paradoxically, the legendary Polish cinema of moral unrest missed the festival program.
Similarly, the hits of the Czech New Wave in the 1960s did not fully utilize the domestic platform. Like other works from friendly countries, they preferred to go to Cannes or Venice, which Karlovy Vary criticized.
As a ”showcase of socialism,” the festival had to cover up potholed roads and worn-out facades. It decided who would be seated on a bus and who would be in a limousine, and balanced discomfort with gifts, from spa cups to boxes of chocolates.
To create an illusion of luxury, the regional authorities had to provide an additional ten tons of Hungarian salami in 1982, but cream was missing. Slivovitz and Becherovka were the main drinks, and alongside sausages, roasted piglets and lambs were served. The entertainment included brass bands, “appropriately dressed” majorettes, and meetings with border guards.
An interesting chapter summarizes how the festival was reported between 1956 and 1962 by the American press.The National Film Archive has released a comprehensive collection of expert texts that examines the festival history from 1946 to 1990. The 500-page book aims to prove that even during the totalitarian regime, film festivals were not a pointless event. It also highlights that these festivals were not limited to the Eastern Bloc and provided an opportunity for Chinese or Brazilian filmmakers to gain visibility.
The book also revives the concept of festival diplomacy personified by A. M. Brousil, which boasted premieres of national cinematography from Indonesian to Mongolian and an increasing number of awards. In 1952, the jury awarded fifty prizes, and Soviet films always received some recognition. The question was only who else would receive the trophy and with what distance from the Soviet films. On the other hand, honors for individual performances, such as Al Pacino, were more likely to go to the West.
During the normalization period, there was a problem of ensuring the attendance of Soviet films, which faced a boycott after the invasion of the occupying forces. To address this, individual titles were given patronage, which involved recruiting viewers with quantity discounts directly in companies. For example, the Uranium Mines in Tachov took patronage over the film “Oáza.” Patronage accounted for fifty percent of the festival’s revenue until the mid-1980s.
A special chapter dedicated to foreign stars is symbolized by a photograph of a seemingly surprised Tony Curtis with a sausage on a stick. The organizers wanted them, but they couldn’t afford them, so they created a ”program for work use” during their visit.
Actresses were emphasized for their artistry rather than scandals, and they were sometimes replaced by domestic colleagues or other celebrities. For example, Jiřina Bohdalová was introduced in the film “Dáma na kolejích” by Yuri Gagarin, and at other times, there were football matches or discussions with miners.
The festival diary had a section called “They Didn’t Come, But They Think of Us,” which convinced readers of the regretful absence of celebrities such as Olivier, Tati, or Loren. When Claudia Cardinale arrived for just one day, she tried on Jablonec jewelry.
In the absence of Western stars, “Slavic beauties” were celebrated, especially Polish actresses who often experienced a career breakthrough in Karlovy Vary. Paradoxically, the legendary Polish cinema of moral unrest missed the festival program.
Similarly, the hits of the Czech New Wave of the 1960s did not take advantage of the domestic ground. Like other works from friendly countries, they preferred Cannes or Venice.
As a “showcase of socialism,” the festival had to cover potholed roads and worn-out facades, decide who would ride the bus and who would ride in a limousine, and balance discomfort with gifts, from spa cups to bonbons.
To create an illusion of luxury, regional authorities had to exceptionally provide ten tons of Hungarian salami in 1982, but cream was missing. Slivovice and Becherovka were the main drinks, and alongside sausages, piglets and lambs were roasted. The entertainment was provided by brass bands, “appropriately dressed” majorettes, or meetings with border guards.
An interesting chapter is the summary of how the American newspaper Variety reported on the festival from 1956 to 1962. It mostly criticized the quality of films and services and hinted at the vassal subordination of the “Soviet satellite” in line with the propaganda of the time.
However, as the book “Proplétání světů” objectively shows, even then, films appeared in Karlovy Vary that rightfully entered the history of cinematography.
How did the absence of Western stars impact the programming and atmosphere of the Karlovy Vary festival?
Olejích” by Yuri Gagarin, and other activities such as football matches and discussions with miners were organized.
The festival diary included a section called “They Didn’t Come, But They Think of Us,” expressing regret over the absence of stars like Olivier, Tati, or Loren. When Claudia Cardinale arrived for just one day, she tried on Jablonec jewelry.
In the absence of Western stars, “Slavic beauties” were celebrated, particularly Polish actresses who often experienced a breakthrough in their careers at Karlovy Vary. Ironically, the legendary Polish cinema of moral unrest was missing from the festival program.
Similarly, the hits of the Czech New Wave in the 1960s did not fully utilize the domestic platform. Instead, they preferred to go to Cannes or Venice, which Karlovy Vary criticized.
As a “showcase of socialism,” the festival had to mask potholed roads and worn-out facades. It decided who would ride on a bus and who would be in a limousine, balancing discomfort with gifts, ranging from spa cups to boxes of chocolates.
To create an illusion of luxury, the regional authorities had to provide an additional ten tons of Hungarian salami in 1982, but cream was missing. Slivovitz and Becherovka were the main drinks, and alongside sausages, roasted piglets and lambs were served. The entertainment included brass bands, “appropriately dressed” majorettes, and meetings with border guards.
An interesting chapter summarizes how the festival was reported between 1956 and 1962 by the American press.
