Film: Kolya

In a Seinfeld episode Elaine learns the hard way from a handsome pediatrician and the child’s proud parents that all babies are “breath-taking.” Even Hitler, from what German “historians,” say, was considered breath-taking in old Austria [at the time].

No one will argue that Andrei Chalimon, who plays Kolya in the Czech film named for him, is not breath-taking. He’s so huggable, hug-hungry grandparents want to lurch into the screen and grab him. And it helps our hearts when we realize he’s been abandoned by his mother—part of a “fake” marriage to get her out of Russia, into Czechlosvakia and then to Germany, where the man she loves awaits her.

Three aspects of this film besides Kolya took me through it 3 times: the musical score, Louka, the middle-aged cellist, and Klara, played by the apparently ageless Libuse Safrankova, the “voice” who leads a handful of string musicians who play for funerals.

Bedrich Smetama’s score captures the ethereal, almost other-worldly moments as Louka and Kolya bond.  I don’t know the voice-over for Libuse Safrankova’s rendition of “The Lord is my Shepherd,” but it is worth listening to—well, I’ll admit it—20 times. Add Kolya, looking up into Klara’s eyes, and you have what the New York Times called, “The Jesus Story.”

Lest I, as they say, uberwork [German makes a slight comeback]  this somewhat sentimental gem to death, let me add that it won a Golden Globe and a nomination for the Oscar.

The always present moral?  Even a middle-aged man [oh, so young] cannot only learn how to love a young boy like a grandson, but also win the affection of a  much younger beauty. The latter aspect clearly rests in the fantasy part of my mind and does not count as creative and healthy imagination.  I don’t want to undo what I tried to build a couple of blogs ago.

Yes, there is the music and the friendship among the outcasts from the dominant Communist Party. Louka, once first chair, lives like a musical gypsy, banned from the National Orchestra.

And then the wall falls down. Communism fails; people are free. The love scenes are tender and tasteful. Lots of  blankets and lots of hugging.

The choice to watch Kolya is yours to make. Some of my more tough-minded friends will find it simply sentimental.  But what’s wrong with a happy ending—once in a while?