Oil Lamps (Juraj Herz) Second Run Blu Ray
Dysfunctional marriages are rife in contemporary film dramas yet often don’t shift gear into a high tragic dilemma set against a backcloth of decadence. If they do in American or British cinema there’s often obvious satire and domestic violence. Position an ill matched couple inside a Czech period drama, set in the early 1900’s and their tragic state, because of psychological makeup, stifling societal pressure and the after effects of war, means a bad and unfulfilled marriage. This is the powerful story of director Juraj Herz’s remarkable 1971 feature Oil Lamps.
Herz is most celebrated for the international success of The Cremator (1969) a dark meditation on Nazi philosophy and insanity, the fine, if very different mystery Morgiana (1972) and the low key fantasy Beauty and the Beast (1978). Oil Lamps is Herz’s fourth feature and, on the surface, a more conservative film – his previous horror film tone is almost absent yet Oil Lamp’s character psychology disturbs you with a brooding absurdity and madness.
Stepa (Iva Janzurova) is a thirty year old independent woman. She’s extrovert and vivacious: enjoys the local theatre and generally socialising in her small Czech town of Jilemnice. But her lively manner is disapproved of by some potential suitors (“A lady who drinks like a bricklayer isn’t a lady.”). She wants to be married and have children. An invitation of marriage comes from her cousin Pavel (Petr Cepek), though he is much more interested in Stepa’s inheritance in order to save his older brother’s farm from financial ruin. The marriage is unconsummated because of Pavel’s impotence, owing to syphilis that he caught during his wild sexual behaviour in the army.
Oil Lamps impresses with fine detail and strong casting. The period setting is excellent with its heightened contrast between country and town life. It never slides into melodramatic excess or an exotic costume drama propriety. I loved such moments when Stepa’s large hat, garlanded by flowers, is criticised for being improper. Or Pawel’s brother’s angry self-absorption, in country matters, as Stepa desperately tells him she will learn farm maintenance and deal with her idle husband.
Old oil lamps are used as a significant metaphor throughout the film to emphasise Stepa’s anxiety and frustration. There’s the lighting of a lamp on her wedding night before her physical rejection by Pawel and the evening she goes to bed early only to be disturbed by Pawel’s drunken army friend who attempts to rape her. Moments like this, and the film’s final scenes, leave you with a poignant sense of betrayal, loss and regret.
Overall Herz creates a satisfying naturalism that works well. The early stepping out of the dressed up newlyweds into the town square, for the towns peoples inspection and approval, is sharply thrown out of joint. Some years later syphilis causes Pawel to limp and stagger, arm in arm with Stepa, in the same social arena where he’s pursued by a similarly infirmed vagrant (A scene that’s painfully humiliating, heart breaking and even surreal).
Perhaps having this vagrant figure appear twice along with the episode of Stepa meeting, unbeknown to her, a young girl, who is Pawel’s abandoned daughter, from his debauched army days, feels a bit contrived. But again Herz maintains an admirably ironic detachment and observation.
Both Ivan Janzurova and Peter Cepek turn in beautifully pitched performances. Self pity is avoided. Stepa may have been foolish and naïve to have not seen through the wastrel Pawel. Whilst Pawel’s horrible behaviour pushes his disease into mental disturbance. Herz’s sensitive direction creates huge sympathy for this trapped couple. Though no matter how much you emphasise with Pawel’s pain it’s the profound sorrow of Petra that proves the more compelling.
Indeed Iva Janzurova’s beautiful and towering performance dominates the sad world of Oil Lamps. She gives everything to the role: her character’s basic nature remaining generous and open; deeply disappointed but not, in any Madame Bovary sense, embittered by her struggle to have a better life. For the moment the oil lamp of her hope might be extinguished but you sense one day it will be lit again.
Alan Price©2025.
Oil Lamps (Juraj Herz) Second Run Blu Ray
Dysfunctional marriages are rife in contemporary film dramas yet often don’t shift gear into a high tragic dilemma set against a backcloth of decadence. If they do in American or British cinema there’s often obvious satire and domestic violence. Position an ill matched couple inside a Czech period drama, set in the early 1900’s and their tragic state, because of psychological makeup, stifling societal pressure and the after effects of war, means a bad and unfulfilled marriage. This is the powerful story of director Juraj Herz’s remarkable 1971 feature Oil Lamps.
Herz is most celebrated for the international success of The Cremator (1969) a dark meditation on Nazi philosophy and insanity, the fine, if very different mystery Morgiana (1972) and the low key fantasy Beauty and the Beast (1978). Oil Lamps is Herz’s fourth feature and, on the surface, a more conservative film – his previous horror film tone is almost absent yet Oil Lamp’s character psychology disturbs you with a brooding absurdity and madness.
Stepa (Iva Janzurova) is a thirty year old independent woman. She’s extrovert and vivacious: enjoys the local theatre and generally socialising in her small Czech town of Jilemnice. But her lively manner is disapproved of by some potential suitors (“A lady who drinks like a bricklayer isn’t a lady.”). She wants to be married and have children. An invitation of marriage comes from her cousin Pavel (Petr Cepek), though he is much more interested in Stepa’s inheritance in order to save his older brother’s farm from financial ruin. The marriage is unconsummated because of Pavel’s impotence, owing to syphilis that he caught during his wild sexual behaviour in the army.
Oil Lamps impresses with fine detail and strong casting. The period setting is excellent with its heightened contrast between country and town life. It never slides into melodramatic excess or an exotic costume drama propriety. I loved such moments when Stepa’s large hat, garlanded by flowers, is criticised for being improper. Or Pawel’s brother’s angry self-absorption, in country matters, as Stepa desperately tells him she will learn farm maintenance and deal with her idle husband.
Old oil lamps are used as a significant metaphor throughout the film to emphasise Stepa’s anxiety and frustration. There’s the lighting of a lamp on her wedding night before her physical rejection by Pawel and the evening she goes to bed early only to be disturbed by Pawel’s drunken army friend who attempts to rape her. Moments like this, and the film’s final scenes, leave you with a poignant sense of betrayal, loss and regret.
Overall Herz creates a satisfying naturalism that works well. The early stepping out of the dressed up newlyweds into the town square, for the towns peoples inspection and approval, is sharply thrown out of joint. Some years later syphilis causes Pawel to limp and stagger, arm in arm with Stepa, in the same social arena where he’s pursued by a similarly infirmed vagrant (A scene that’s painfully humiliating, heart breaking and even surreal).
Perhaps having this vagrant figure appear twice along with the episode of Stepa meeting, unbeknown to her, a young girl, who is Pawel’s abandoned daughter, from his debauched army days, feels a bit contrived. But again Herz maintains an admirably ironic detachment and observation.
Both Ivan Janzurova and Peter Cepek turn in beautifully pitched performances. Self pity is avoided. Stepa may have been foolish and naïve to have not seen through the wastrel Pawel. Whilst Pawel’s horrible behaviour pushes his disease into mental disturbance. Herz’s sensitive direction creates huge sympathy for this trapped couple. Though no matter how much you emphasise with Pawel’s pain it’s the profound sorrow of Petra that proves the more compelling.
Indeed Iva Janzurova’s beautiful and towering performance dominates the sad world of Oil Lamps. She gives everything to the role: her character’s basic nature remaining generous and open; deeply disappointed but not, in any Madame Bovary sense, embittered by her struggle to have a better life. For the moment the oil lamp of her hope might be extinguished but you sense one day it will be lit again.
Alan Price©2025.
By Alan Price • added recently on London Grip, film • Tags: Alan Price, film