Like its predecessor, Aimless Walk, the second film of Alexandr Hackenschmied (1907–2004) was another city film of Prague, and another important contribution to the bourgeoning Czech avant-garde. But whereas his first film was intended to create the impression of a pedestrian ramble across the Czech capital, Prague Castle is simultaneously a much more focused film, and a much more haphazard one. As its title suggests, the film is essentially a cinematic study of a single architectural complex, but, given the size of Prague Castle, its heavily sedimented history, and its range of styles, Hackenschmied’s portrait is constantly shifting and changing, constantly presenting its viewers with stark contrasts and unexpected details, and the sense of a vast city-within-a-city is created.
Hackenschmied’s first film had been silent, but, here, on his follow-up, he created a sound film that eschewed narration and dialogue, but that matched his clever camerawork and unusual compositions with a suitably somber score by the Czech composer František Bartoš. In fact, Hackenschmied described the concept behind the film as a collaborative attempt to explore the connections between architecture, musical composition, and cinematic form:
In collaboration with the composer, František Bartoš, I have tried … to find the relationship between architectonic form and music; between an image and a tone; between the movement of a picture and the movement of music; and between the space of a picture and the space of a tone.
Adding to Prague Castle’s uncanny atmosphere is the fact that the film is almost totally depopulated, with the notable exception of a brief flourish in the eighth minute where a series of shots suddenly, and fleetingly, reveal the presence of guards, an automobile, and a number of pedestrians. Otherwise, virtually all of the human forms found in the film are made up of statuary. In many ways, Prague Castle is most reminiscent of Alain Resnais’ treatment of architecture, statuary, and cinematic space in Toute la mémoire du mode (1956) and L’Année dernière à Marienbad (1961), although Hackenschmied’s whiplash pans have more to do with French cinema of the 1920s than Resnais’ measured approach.
Anthony Kinik
further reading
Hames, Peter, Czech and Slovak Cinema: Theme and Tradition (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2009).
Valasek, Thomas E., “Alexander Hammid: A Survey of His Film-Making Career,” Film Culture 67–8–9 (1979): 250–322.
_________________________