- [on Morgiana (1972)] the head dramaturg Ludvík Toman said that it was a sadomasochist film and it had to be banned. Then he also told me that he thought I would make a romantic film, so I tried to explain to him that it is romantic, but he couldn't understand that because he thought that I made it too scary. He couldn't catch that in romanticism the writers also used lots of scary, eerie moments. I was forbidden to make films for the next two years.
- [on Zastihla me noc (1986)] When I was in the concentration camp I experienced one scene. The first day I came into the concentration camp they undressed us and sent us into the showers. There were only a few children and the rest were men who started a terrible panic. At that time, it was already known what the showers meant. I was there looking at the panic-stricken adults and I knew there was no gas in the tubes because there were glass windows in the room. It would be easy to break them and let the gas out. So I knew it couldn't be a gas chamber. After a while, water started to come out from the tubes, and all the men were screaming that it is just water and not gas. This scene you know from Steven Spielberg. But ten years before him, I shot this scene with women in the film Zastihla me noc (1986). Spielberg copied the scene shot by shot from me.
- [on Kulhavý dábel (1968)] We were working on the screenplay, but the administration said that even though it's about a filthy devil everything filthy has to be cut out. Of course, there were supposed to be lots of erotic scenes. After that I just didn't want to make the film anymore. But I was an employee of the film studio Barrandov and they told me that everything is set for the shooting and they needed somebody to make the film. So I made the film with an aversion because the film was cut, deplumed from the very beginning.
- [on The Cremator (1969)] I went to various projections of the film in many different countries, from the Netherlands to Naples, and I was keen to see how the reactions of the audience were completely different in every country. In Prague, people were depressed; in Slovakia, they laughed; in the Netherlands, it was a comedy from the beginning to the end; in Italy, the spectators went from the cinema right to the bar because cremation is just impossible, awful and unacceptable in their country.
- [on Straka v hrsti (1983)] Because the film was "in a safe" for the next 13 years, it got really old. In the second half of the eighties, it was a very ferocious film. From all my films, time hurt this film the most.
- [on casting a role of Lucie in T.M.A. (2009)]: "Originally, I wanted Markéta Irglová. I thought she was attractive, both as a singer and as a type. I liked her in Once (2007). But then she had other commitments, and her fame faded sooner than I expected. I'm glad that Lenka Krobotová played her part in the end - she was excellent. She was breastfeeding her baby at the time, who was with us the whole time, but she played with full commitment and well."
- [on his collaboration with Zbynek Brynych]: "Brynych was ready three months in advance for every shot. He never doubted anything. I, as an assistant director, knew exactly how the shot would look, where the left cantina would be, where the right one would be, how many people I could fit in there - this was necessary, for example, for Transport z ráje (1963), where we had eight hundred people. Brynych followed the technical script very carefully."
- [on which contemporary horror films he liked]: "I liked the Spanish The Orphanage (2007) and then, coincidentally also Spanish, the film starring Australian Nicole Kidman: The Others (2001). Each horror film has a different point of view, different atmosphere, different development and characters, different directors - but we're still sort of related in this genre."
- [on God and religion]: "For me, there is no God. I am a deeply religious and militant atheist. We're having a meeting of atheists tomorrow, they're coming from all over the country. It's something that needs some attention. I don't think many people sleep with the Bible to their head like I do. Or they keep it on their bedside table, but they don't read it. I read it and underline it. Especially in the Old Testament - it's an absolute, unbelievable horror. But the Old Testament has been taken over by Christians - even with that vengeful, evil God. I get really very upset when I meet a monk. Elegant, young. I ask him what order he's in. "Dominican." Well, I'd rather meet an SS man, because they've murdered fewer people than the Dominicans. The Dominicans introduced burning, the auto-daffé. And two Dominicans, now saints, wrote the The Witchhammer, which for 400 years was an excuse to burn people - for power, for money, for control."
- [on the title of T.M.A. (2009)]: "'Tma' means 'Darkness' in Czech, but people at Warner Brothers used to call the movie "Tee Em Ey". I liked it, and to make the title make sense abroad, it ended up being T.M.A. - or The Mysterious Adress. Because the house where the story takes place stands alone, it has neither a street name nor a number."
- [on Vision 2000 (1993)]: "In 1992, my producer Karel Dirka came to me asking if I would like to make a documentary with Václav Havel and Maximilian Schell. It was to be about Havel's vision of the next millennium, and therefore it was to be called Vision 2000. I wanted to, but as long as Havel was president, there was no thought of it. But then came the moment when Czechoslovakia was divided into two separate states and it was not known whether Havel would continue as the representative of the Czech Republic. In the meantime, he had more time, we began to meet and I was able to get to know him from another side. As a man with something to say about culture, politics and life with Maximilian Schell. At the time, Havel lived on the waterfront with his wife and a slightly mad dog, Dula, who attacked everyone. Dog lovers won't be happy about this, but I didn't like Dula, unlike Václav Havel."
- [on his collaboration with Ján Kadár and Elmar Klos]: "Kadár constantly doubted himself. And every day he asked the screenwriter again what the film was actually about. He listened like a little child as the screenwriter told him the content. Over and over again. And still he had a period of doubt. The others didn't see it, but I was a very close collaborator. For example, in Obzalovaný (1964), it happened that the sets were already up, the actors were on the set, and he didn't dare to enter the studio and start shooting. He'd walk around, I'd call him - and he'd say he had to think about something else. That's why he needed Klos, because Klos was boorish. "Look, it's done like this," he said. And that's when Kadár retorted that it was bullshit, reassured himself of his idea and went to shoot. And when he started, it was on. But he didn't prepare any technical script. In the morning, the cameraman and I had a discussion about what the shots would look like. He improvised a lot."
- [on why he emigrated to Germany in 1987]: "There were several reasons. I knew German well, of course that's important. I made my last film before emigrating, the fairy tale Galose stastia (1986), in co-production with the biggest German company Kirch, so they already knew me there. And my long-time friend, film producer Karel Dirka, lived in Germany. Germany was the only reasonable option for me. If I had been twenty-five, I might have tried Hollywood, but I emigrated at fifty-two."
- [on Václav Havel]: "We met in the army. I was looking for a way to get away as much as possible, and I thought I would direct an amateur theatre performance. Of course, it had to be something military-related. Václav was on the judging committee for the same reason as me, and since I won, he was the one who presented me with the award. We spent the whole day talking about theatre and film. Later on, we would occasionally bump into each other in a theatre somewhere and exchange a few words, but we weren't special friends. But I knew his positions, political and moral, of course, and I was glad that the Czechs had chosen him as head of state. I told myself that this is what a president should look like - a decent man with high credit not only at home but also abroad."
- [on difficulties with Morgiana (1972)]: "In Morgiana I have two sisters, a good and a bad one, it's a double role, played brilliantly by Iva Janzurová. It was originally supposed to be revealed at the end that there was only one of them, but she's schizophrenic. The other one is just her imagination. I meant to say that no one is just good or just bad. But when Ludvík Toman (then Head of the Barrandov Studios) read the script, he said that schizophrenia is a bourgeois disease, and the whole finale had to go. I was terribly disappointed. The film had lost what it was supposed to be about. He ended up calling me in anyway to complain that he had ordered a romantic film, and instead, I made a haunting one. "But that's the essence of romanticism," I told him, "Karel Jaromír Erben, Karel Hynek Mácha and all the other classics of Czech dark romanticism are haunted too." "You don't know what romanticism is, comrade," Toman raged. "It's when two people love each other, fate puts all sorts of obstacles in their way, but they overcome them and eventually get married!" It was hard with them. Mostly they were stupid and made decisions about things they didn't even remotely understand."
- [on his appearances in other directors' movies]: "It was more of a help to a genre colleagues. For example, in Lemonade Joe (1964) I was filming in next-door studio and my colleague Oldrich Lipský needed a character for one day and said - "Come play cards with Milos Kopecký". So I filled in. That's how it was with a lot of directors. The same thing in How About a Plate of Spinach? (1977) and other films."
- [on Dagmar Havlová]: "I actually discovered Dása and I'm proud of it! At the time, I needed five girls for Holky z porcelánu (1975) and I didn't want to have actresses who were already famous. I'd been looking for a long time. I had photos of the students sent from Brno and I found one among them who interested me very much. I didn't know Dása, I invited her to Prague, I did rehearsals with her and then I was facing a dilemma. That actually she could play any of those five girls and it was a dilemma which of those roles to give her. She had an absolute sense of humor, a huge talent and she was amazing. And she still is. Just when we were finishing filming Holky z porcelánu (1975), I said - there is something else in Dasa and I have to get it out of her, I have to make another film with her. So I made a crime drama called Holka na zabití (1976). It was originally going to be a pure comedy, it was going to be shot in the winter. I argued with the screenwriter, told him I don't shoot in the winter, and I reworked the whole thing and cast Dása as the lead. Then I was preparing the film 'Automatic Girl' and I wanted to cast Dása again. It was going to be about a girl who works in a canteen. But I was forbidden to do that because there were too many 'girl movies'."
- [on the advantages of shooting The Cremator (1969) in a crematorium]: "That was very good because we were shooting in three different incinerators, the actors didn't feel comfortable there, it was summer, it didn't smell good and everybody wanted to finish quickly, so we were usually done by 3 p.m."
- [on what type of movies he was interested in]: "Anything that wasn't political. I really strictly avoided that. But all the films I was making were sort of a way out of the emergency. I thought, if a pianist doesn't practice every day, he stops playing. And I wanted to make films, but I didn't want to make politics. I preferred to make fairy tales. But I didn't love fairy tales that much, which is why, with Beauty and the Beast (1978) and The Ninth Heart (1979), kids ran screaming from the theater."
- [on his movie influences after moving to Prague]: "Visits to the Polish Embassy, where I first saw excellent films made by Andrzej Wajda, Wojciech Has, Andrzej Munk or Jerzy Kawalerowicz, became very important for my later life. I also went to the Yugoslav embassy, where I saw all the films of the Yugoslav "dark series". But the best screenings were for FAMU students, where you could see films from all over the world. Here I also saw Vittorio De Sica's film Bicycle Thieves (1948), which fascinated me. I also saw films by Roberto Rossellini and Federico Fellini. That's when it became clear to me that I wanted to get into film and become a film director."
- [on his work with non-professional actors]: "When I was making the film Sberné surovosti (1965) we agreed not to use professional actors. For the lead role I found Václav Halama at Barrandov, who was half worker and half jack-of-all-trades. That's the kind of people who are in film industry, great guys who can fix anything that goes wrong and create any of the nonsense that the director invents. I found an innkeeper in a pub who played a churchwarden, his wife played a cinema usher. A graphic designer friend played the driver, a former classmate played the mum and so it went on. Later I always tried to find a role for Václav Halama in my films."
- [on his work at the Semafor Musical Theatre]: "After returning from the military service, I got a job at the Semafor theatre, where we started to study the play 'Skrobené hlavy' ('Starched Heads'). Since I had no salary and was supporting my wife and young son, Jirí Suchý gave me a job as a lighting technician, so I saw all the excellent productions from my lighting booth. Then I directed another production, 'Paper Blues', where I also had the role of narrator. On opening night, the monologue was smoking out of my head and I improvised, which the audience took as part of the play and roared with laughter. The play was a success and the reviews on my performance were positive. Thanks to them, the director Zbynek Brynych offered me a small role in his comedy Kazdá koruna dobrá (1961), which was currently being prepared. I didn't leave the set at all and stood behind Brynych the whole time and watched him direct. When he saw my interest, he offered me the job of his assistant and I resigned from Semafor."
- [on collaboration with E.F. Burian]: "For me the greatest teacher was Emil Frantisek Burian. I saw the creation of his production of 'The Beggar's Opera' from beginning to end. It was amazing to watch him direct in a very special way for me at that time. He played every character for all the actors and uncompromisingly demanded that they repeat every movement after him. Some of the actors didn't like it and ran away from the theatre, while others liked it and grew a lot under his guidance. Whenever I had a day off and didn't go to the cinema, I had to go to the E. F. Burian Theatre for at least one act. During my four years of study at DAMU, going to cinemas and theaters was the best experience I could have had."
- [on working with Rudolf Hrusínský in The Cremator (1969)]: "On the first day of shooting he was very grumpy and I think he regretted taking the role. He was sure it wouldn't turn out well. But after about three days he began to understand that he had a lot to play in the film and he was absolutely brilliant. The only problem with him was that he didn't like to learn lines. So the way the shooting went was that he would rip a page out of the script with the text and ask me what the shot looked like. When I explained it to him, he tore the dialogue to pieces and always put the text he was supposed to say where he was supposed to go. He then went from text to text in the take. He was always at his best in the very first take, worse in the second, and worse in the third because he got tired of it. Eventually I found out that Hrusínský was by far the best when we weren't rehearsing at all. But there was another problem. Vlasta Chramostová was excellent, but she was a typical theatre actress, which means that she demanded to rehearse as much as possible."
- [on Olga Salagová]: "I gave the role of the she-devil in the film Kulhavý dábel (1968)to the beautiful Slovak actress Olga Salagová, who was absolutely wonderful, but only in life. Before we started filming, she was, like champagne opened, absolutely "sprinkling"..... but, when I said, "Action!", she faded, and the champagne turned into skim wine. During the filming, I couldn't get out of her what was there before."
- [on Jana Brezková]: "One of the main roles in Ferat Vampire (1982) was given to Jana Brezková. She came to the set, looked at the car with interest and sat in it. We set up the camera and I told her to start the car and drive it. Then we'll cut. She replied that she couldn't start the car and drive off because she didn't know how to drive. It got dark in front of my eyes. An actress who can't drive and yet takes on the role of a car racer is simply a species I don't understand and perhaps don't want to understand."
- [on Miroslav Machácek]: "When I was working as an assistant director on the film Obzalovaný (1964), I also met Miroslav Machácek, who was an excellent actor and an exceptional theatre director, but also a very malicious person. During the filming he asked me if he could stay in the dressing room during the lighting rehearsal, because he wasn't feeling well. I complied and asked the extra to do a stand-in for him during lighting. Machácek began to go around to all the actors in the ensemble and tell them how it works during lighting, causing a near strike by all the actors. I shouted at him in front of everyone, because otherwise no one would have listened to me anymore. Machácek didn't believe that I would dare and went to complain to (the film's director) Ján Kadár. He yelled at him a second time and Machácek and I didn't speak to each other for the next seven years."
- [on Aiace Parolin]: "After two years of finishing Sign of the Cancer (1967), the Italians contacted us, saying that they wanted to buy it and wanted to add some erotic scenes in Rome. So I went to Italy with the actors, which was my first foreign and very interesting work experience. They assigned me the famous cinematographer Aiace Parolin, but he didn't go to the camera, he just shone. When I just invited him to go into the camera's viewfinder, he was thrilled. It was only later that I found out that in Italy the cinematographers only shone their lights, the shot was built by the director with a pencil, and it was not customary for the DOP to compose the shots or even to look through the camera. I, on the other hand, asked him to make sure everything was okay and he was so excited that the director was having fun with him that he gave me a beautiful coffee machine as a parting gift."
- [on working with composers]: "The first composer I worked with was the absolutely exceptional Zdenek Liska. He did the music for me for Sberné surovosti (1965) and The Cremator (1969). He was brilliant, but that's why he was also in great demand, and it was not easy to find a vacancy. Petr Hapka had the memory of an elephant. He had everything he had ever written in his head and could recall it on demand. Another of Petr's qualities was laziness, but this often had very positive consequences. Rather than writing out his compositions in sheet music and arranging them, he learned to play every instrument and recorded everything himself when recording in the studio. He was also the one who recommended Michael Kocáb to me for the film Straka v hrsti (1983)."
- [on his relationship with nature]: "The film Neschovávejte se, kdyz prsí (1962) was filmed in the Orlické Mountains. That was a disaster for me because I don't like nature. I belong in a café, not in the woods. The filming took several weeks and I started to have a nervous breakdown. I couldn't stand being surrounded by nature anymore. The hardest thing for me was the idea of shooting Krehké vztahy (1980) in the winter and out in nature. I don't like winter or snow, snowy plains are depressing to me, but when it worked out that way, I decided to treat shooting outdoors as medical rehabilitation after a heart attack. I bought cross-country skis and on the first Saturday we didn't film, I ran out into the white plains. After about 20 steps, I decided that cross-country skiing really wasn't for me. Nature just leaves me cold, especially the winter kind."
- [on attempted collaboration with Milos Macourek]: "When I was banned from filming, I at least tried to write. I used to meet with Milos Macourek and we would come up with a new story together, try to make a comedy. We went to Karlovy Vary, locked ourselves in a guesthouse and tried to write a script from the idea. Unfortunately, it turned out that I wasn't the right partner for Milos Macourek when it came to comedy, we struggled with it, constantly rewriting and improving it, but it just wasn't right."
- [on working with Ladislav Fuks]: "It took us two years to write the script for The Cremator (1969). We would always meet with the author in the Slavia café, we would agree on something, he would write or change it within a week and bring it to the next meeting. So we approved it, or modified it, and we went on. One of the characters that Ládík had in his story was the character of a young combustion adept. I had already cast the part, but Fuks said he wrote it for his young boyfriend. If he doesn't play it, he's not really interested in the whole film. When he insisted, I slammed the script on the table, "You know what, Ládík? Here's the script and shoot it yourself." He got up, left in a huff, but then of course he came back."
- [on working with Bruno Cremer]: "I did Maigret (1991) for French television with the famous Bruno Cremer. He didn't like the way I wanted to do it because, according to him, he knew Maigret and I didn't. When there was another conflict, he said, "I won't be ordered around, we'll do it my way." I said, "It's all right Bruno, no problem". I turned to the crew and announced that I was leaving and Bruno Cremer would take over the direction and finish the film. And I left. In the end, the producer had to sort everything out. The film was a great success and was said to be the most cinematic of the lot."
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