NR | 2h 10m | Drama, Biography, History, Music | 2024
As someone with what I feel to be above-average knowledge of classical music, I have to admit I was more than a bit embarrassed that I’d never heard of Czech composer Josef Myslivecek.
Born in 1737 in Prague, Myslivecek specialized in symphonies, opera seria (serious opera), and violin concertos. At the age of 26, he left his homeland and relocated to Italy where he was to spend the bulk of his remaining days.
In director Petr Vaclav’s arresting and stunning biography “The Bohemian,” Myslivecek is portrayed by Czech actor and pop singer Vojtech Dyk, a tall and striking man who, once the details of Myslivecek’s life are made clear, was perfectly cast.
Seven Vignettes
Eschewing the traditional three-act narrative, Mr. Vaclav instead opts for a string of seven vignettes all introduced with location and date title cards (“Venice 1765,” “Naples 1767,” and so on). My sole issue with the film, and it’s a big one, was Mr. Vaclav’s choice to open the movie in 1781, the year of Myslivecek’s death. Had this pre-opening credit sequence been saved for last, the movie would have been near-perfect. Mr. Vaclav simply steals too much of his own thunder.Myslivecek’s first year in Venice was tough. He rented a room from a sympathetic, well-to-do family and was often late with his payments. Nowhere near ready to market his own compositions, he earned a pittance teaching wealthy students. One of these was female cellist Cornelia (Federica Vecchio), who is obviously smitten with her tutor, and in exchange for his mere company, she pays for his new private room and board.
This for That
All of this changes when he crosses paths with brazen socialite Marchesa (Elena Radonicich). If alive today, Marchesa would likely be a global influencer with an Instagram following in the millions. Again, a deal is made. She introduces him to connected men, who can get his works the proper attention, in exchange for his “time.”The most turbulent (and fruitful) of Myslivecek’s liaisons is with Caterina Gabrielli (Barbara Ronchi), the premier diva soprano of the era. At first, she dismisses Myslivecek, but is soon mesmerized by both his talent and looks which, of course, further extends his burgeoning credibility and popularity.
The arguable highlight of the movie takes place in the “Bologna 1770” segment when Myslivecek has an audience with the child Wolfgang Mozart (prodigy Philip Hahn, whose middle name is actually Amadeus). After Myslivecek plays a few notes from a new piece for Mozart on harpsichord, the wunderkind proceeds to not just repeat the composition but adds to it with his own jaunty riffs, flourishes, and improvisations.
The writer-director of the multi-award-winning 2015 documentary about Myslivecek (“Confession of the Vanished”), Vaclav was clearly the right man to make this film. His adoration of his subject is obvious but never in a sycophantic or fawning manner.
It’s the Music
The color schemes, set designs, costumes, lighting, photography—all of these were impeccably executed. The same (and more) can be said for the music. Recorded by Vaclav Luks with his ensemble Collegium 1704, with soloists Philippe Jaroussky, Raffaella Milanesi, Emoke Barath, Simona Saturova, Krystian Adam, and Juan Sancho, the score/soundtrack is purely transcendental.
For fans of late 18th-century European composers, most of whom know nothing of Myslivecek’s works, the music alone is worth the price of admission; or in this case, the cost of a stream or download.
A note to interested viewers: It is more than worth mentioning that the film contains three, albeit brief, scenes of frank sexuality and graphic nudity. In my opinion they are all necessary to the story and are in no way gratuitous. They are a proper reflection of a segment of the Italian upper class at the time and only raise the film’s level of accuracy and authenticity.
