The Party and the Guests (1966): So Good They Banned It Twice (Review)

Released on Blu-ray this week by the exemplary Second Run label, The Party and the Guests is a 1966 Czechoslovakian film from Jan Němec that holds the distinction of being one of a handful of films to be ‘banned forever’ in its native land by communist authorities who, in the wake of the 1968 Soviet invasion, were eager to clamp down on what they saw as having been a step too far towards liberalisation under First Secretary Alexander Dubček. This oppressive reset of Czech society subsequently became known as normalisation and the ban on films such as this continued in force until the collapse of Soviet communism in 1989. What makes The Party and the Guests arguably the most subversive of all Czechoslovakian movies from this period though, is the fact that its banning forever in the early ’70s was in fact the second time the film had been withdrawn, as it was initially banned almost immediately after its completion in 1966, only gaining a belated release two years later in 1968 before the Soviet tanks rolled into Prague.

But why were such films banned under communism in the first place? Well, there are usually around four main reasons as to why such censorship occurred. The first such reason is arguably the most obvious; that of political subversion. If a film attempts to criticise or satirise the ideology of the state then that film will inevitably fall foul of the government. The second reason was one of comprehension; if a film was considered too abstract or downright incomprehensible, it would be frowned upon. The third reason was often the belief that a film was too elitist; films made by the intelligentsia, for the intelligentsia, were argued to hold no appeal for the average working class man or woman who communist societies supposedly revered. The final reason goes hand in hand with the third and is solely down to the character of those responsible for the movie; if a filmmaker had form, if they had previously gone too far with the authorities and were not considered flavour of the month, then their work would be smothered and their career options under the regime severely limited. Tellingly, The Party and the Guests was so incendiary that it was deemed to fit each of these four categories.

Let’s look at what the film is about. The plot of the film, written by Němec’s then wife Ester Krumbachová, revolves around a group of friends out for a summer’s day to enjoy a picnic. Their peace is shattered when they are confronted by sinister thugs who cajole them into a clearing and attempt to delineate them and bend them to their will. Later, a charismatic authority figure arrives, admonishing the thugs and inviting the picnickers to a bizarre banquet in his honour. As the friends take their seats alongside their tormentors and begin to enjoy the feast it becomes clear that the intention remains to gain their submission via more civilised means. Whilst two men fully ingratiate themselves with the leader, one of the picnickers refuses to conform and takes his leave. Angered by the rejection, a hunting party equipped with guns and a large Alsatian is assembled with the intention of tracking him down as the film draws to a close.

It ought to be clear from that outline that this is an allegorical film about bullying and oppression and the removal of free will and liberty within a group or society. With a potentially critical reading of the communist state, the film immediately meets the main reasons for a ban – political subversion. However, right up until his death in 2016 at the age of 79, Jan Němec would repeatedly deny that his movie was specifically about communism. Instead, he argued that The Party and the Guests was in fact a critique of any authoritarian political regime and specifically about the type of Mafiosi required to ensure it was dutifully obeyed by the masses at all times. It’s a defence I can actually get on board with as, on the surface at least, there’s nothing here to say it isn’t as much a critique on fascism or supposed Western capitalist democracy as it is on communism. Indeed, there’s nothing here to say it really has to be political at all, it could be about the more universal issue of peer pressure. Nothing that is, except for the country that it was made in. Because this is a Czech film and Czechoslovakia was, at that time, communist, the film is singularly interpreted as a critique that remains pointedly close to home. Is that fair though? If the film was French, it would surely be read as a criticism of the Vichy regime of WWII? If it was British, could it be about the colonialist attitudes that still prevailed in nations such as Ireland? I guess the difference lies in the fact that France and the UK have greater freedoms of expression than those nations in the East. Despite, Němec’s attempts to muddy the waters by drawing on visual influences that took in everything from the photojournalism of Bresson and painters such as Goya and the Dutch still life artists, his film was viewed solely as a commentary on ’60s Czechoslovakia – a view that isn’t particularly helped by the English translation of its title. In its native tongue, the film is known as O slavnosti a hostech, which essentially translates as ‘About Celebrations and Guests’. However, both the US and the UK chose to translate it to include the deeply loaded term of ‘Party’, with all its political connotations presumably purposefully intact. Suddenly this was a film about the Communist Party and whatever Němec said wasn’t about to dissuade anyone of this belief. Indeed, our American cousins would go one further with the implication, naming it A Report on the Party and the Guests; a title that conjures up the idea of the West casting of a caustic, official and self-satisfied eye upon the injustices faced by the beleaguered Soviet satellite nations. Though I must say that, heard today, the US title seems more like something Sue Gray is busily assembling on this rule-flouting Tory government.

However, you could also argue that the outline of this film as I have presented it to you may seem very elliptical. Certainly, the decision to never actually explain anything that occurs and to use abstract, seemingly meaningless dialogue throughout, does make for a wilfully obtuse viewing experience. In that regard, however, the film commits another cardinal sin for the communist authorities, that of being incomprehensible. Many would cite The Party and the Guests as an example of absurdist humour, a particularly popular form of comedy in Czechoslovakia. It could be argued that Němec and Krumbachová were more inspired by the work of Ionesco or Beckett than they were by the political landscape of Czechoslovakia.

The third and fourth reason for a ban is the belief that your film is elitist and produced by unpopular figures. Whilst Němec could argue all he wanted that the film was not a critique of communism, it is hard to argue that The Party and the Guests is not a film made by an intelligentsia of Czech dissidents. Deciding against a professional cast of actors in all but one key role (more on that later), Němec chose instead to cast his friends, all of whom would give the authorities cause for concern. Perhaps the greatest concern was the casting of filmmaker Evald Schorm as the unnamed party guest who takes his leave from the gathering unnoticed, leading to the assembly of a hunting party at the film’s close. Schorm’s 1964 film Courage for Every Day sparked controversy with its depiction of the steady disillusionment with communism that its protagonists experienced and led to it being banned. Held in high regard by his contemporaries as something of a moral conscience to aspire to and be influenced by, it is telling that Němec casts him as the one character who defies the slide into blind conformity, his actions in contrast to the despicable collaborative behaviours of Josef (Jiří Němec, Jan’s cousin) and František (Pavel Bošek); the latter a useful idiot paid for the regime with the promise of a new house, the former a peeping tom and canny operator who ultimately condemns Schorm to a hunting party, but prefers not to participate himself. That Schorm is depicted as an aloof figure who mostly leaves the talking to the others in the group, preferring to observe and assess the situation before making his great escape – off camera and without word! – ensures that this is a very different kind of rebel or hero than those found in Western cinema. Not for prematurely grey, sad-eyed Schorm the grandstanding moment of defiance or heroism, instead – much like the filmmaker himself – he quietly identifies the totalitarian threat and defies it subtly – why speak when words have clearly lost their meaning, as evinced in the seemingly abstract and banal dialogue? Schorm’s 1969 movie End of a Priest would join Němec’s film in receiving the honour of being ‘banned forever’ and concluding the decade as ‘politically undesirable’, he found theatre the only option open to him in the 1970s and much of the ’80s, just as Němec himself found his work restricted to television. Others were less fortunate; Dana Němcová, who plays Olinka, the bride at the party, and her real-life husband Jiří Němec, who plays the collaborator Josef, went on to become a political activists and co-founders of The Committee for the Defense of the Unjustly Prosecuted, resulting in a prison sentence for subversion.

The sole professional in the principal cast would also give the authorities a headache and be held up as proof of the film’s subversive intentions. Ivan Vyskočil played the enigmatic host who uses the velvet glove to bend the guests to his will, when the iron fist methods of his henchman and adopted son Rudolf (an unnervingly eccentric turn from composer Jan Klusák) fails to do the job. Because Vyskočil was bearded, his authoritarian presence was interpreted as a condemnation of Lenin – something that all now refute as nothing more than an unfortunate coincidence.

Ultimately The Party and the Guests is a thought provoking meditation on human nature when confronted by authority and inequality and speaks to that little voice, often filled with doubt, within us all; would we have the courage to resist, or would we make any number of adjustments to our lives to ensure that we remained in favour?

This Second Run release includes an appreciation of the film by Peter Hames made in 2007, two audio commentaries and an extra movie in the shape of The Hand, the classic 1965 stop motion short from Jiří Trnka that was also banned following the Prague Spring on account of the allegorical conflict between the powerless Harlequin and the eponymous, controlling Hand.

MARK’S ARCHIVE – THE PARTY AND THE GUESTS (1966)