The Brotherhood of Man

| 11 Nov 2014 | 02:06

    I Served the King of England Directed by Jirí Menzel at Lincoln Plaza & the Quad

    For once, we have a movie about World War II that doesn’t feature a protagonist who is almost preternaturally aware of the danger the Nazis represent. Of course, there were plenty of people well aware of this when Hitler was up to no good; but he could never have progressed as far if the vast majority hadn’t been taken in. And so we have I Served the King of England’s apolitical Jan Díte, who falls head over heels in love with a paragon of Nazi womanhood in Czechoslovakia—and never makes her politics an issue.

    Forty years ago, director Jirí Menzel became internationally famous with his adaptation of Bohumil Hrabal’s novel Closely Watched Trains, and now he’s turned his director’s eye to another Hraba novel with I Served the King of England. When Jan is first seen (played by Oldrich Kaiser), he’s a weathered older man with a perpetual twinkle in his eye, just released from prison after being sentenced by the communists to 14 years.

    Luckily, we’re soon flashing back to Jan’s younger self, because this Jan’s story can’t begin to compete with his younger counterpart in terms of history and humor; the most interesting thing that happens to Jan after prison is a mild flirtation with an irritating, feral-looking girl.

    I Served the King of England is much more sure of itself when taking a blackly comedic look at the role history played in Jan’s life before jail. Destined to be attracted to both pretty women and easy money while he works his way up the ladder as a waiter, Jan (played by Ivan Barnev) is a stiff-limbed walking doll, all wide eyes and buffoonish libido. He never has sex with a girl without festooning her body with whatever happens to be at hand (blossoms, food) and then admiring his handiwork in the nearest reflective surface. Until, that is, he meets the almost shockingly hearty Líza (Julia Jentsch), a stolid proponent of Nazism who insists that doctors inspect Jan to see if he’s worthy of a true Aryan like herself.

    Jan takes in all of this in his own peculiar stride, turning a deaf ear to the protests of his hotel co-workers and flaunting the fall of Czechoslovakia to the Axis by triumphantly returning to eat in the hotel dining room from which he and Líza had so recently been banned.

    Unfortunately, the two Jans hardly seem like the same person. Kaiser’s Jan is pure ego, while Barnev plays Jan as all id, destined to follow his instincts blindly without ever examining the consequences. And in the final analysis, it’s Barnev’s brilliant turn that seems most appropriate. Seeing a man who insists the communists arrest him as a millionaire so he can join the most exclusive club he knows suddenly turn into a bemused observer seems too big a stretch, especially considering the heavy blanket of irony enveloping the film up until then. Without its sentimental ending, I Served the King of England could have been an astringent antidote to hours of noble World War II movies. But even as it is, the film remains a strange comic fable about finding happiness in the most outlandish of places.