Il Boemo

The Czech nomination for next year’s Foreign Language Oscar captures the glorious decadence of the 18th Century Italy inhabited by composer Josef Mysliveček (Vojtech Dyk), nicknamed Il Boemo. But decay acts as a counterpoint to Petr Václav’s film. The extreme outcome of it is manifest on Mysliveček’s syphilis-ravaged and mask-shrouded face when we meet him shortly before his death, just shy of his 44th birthday, at the start of the film before time unravels to reveal him in his youthful glory. It would be nigh on impossible to watch Václav’s film without recalling Milos Forman’s Amadeus but although they share some DNA, especially in terms of the old school filmmaking on display, Mysliveček is a very different prospect in terms of personality than Mozart.

Václav shows how the earlier Czech composer, who moved to Italy in search of fame, was much less volatile than the younger composer, whom he influenced. He appears much driven less by his carnal appetites than by an overwhelming desire to see his music performed - although that didn’t stop him adopting a hedonistic trajectory. The music itself also steps fully into the spotlight here, as we see opera singing - though sounding ethereal - was, especially in the period, an act of gruelling effort, performed sweatily under heavy costume and melting make-up.

The film blends the spectacle of opera with some of the machinations and tension of the likes of Dangerous Liaisons, while also lending Mysliveček a tale of forbidden love that bears a romantic sweep, all while never losing its sense of humour. Mysliveček moves from penury to patronage and back again, first via a relationship with a young cellist who falls for more than his teaching style. Her help puts him into the orbit of a libertine aristocrat (Elena Radonicich), who thinks nothing of conducting a conversation while in the throes of an orgasm thanks to a man hidden beneath her flowing gown. This moment exemplifies the pixieish humour that runs through the film, which becomes chiefly associated with Il Boemo’s encounters with prima donna (in every sense of the phrase) La Gabrielli (Barbara Ronchi, attacking the role with verve). Her angelic voice hasn’t stopped her being branded “a harlot” in certain circles and her refusal to suffer fools is a joy to watch. Meanwhile, as his career progresses, more cerebral amour is provided by a largely epistolary relationship he embarks on with a noblewoman (Lana Vlady) who is in thrall to her violent and jealous husband.

In less adept hands this could have become a clash of content but Václav keeps all his elements in balance, managing to celebrate the beauty of opera on the one hand while showing us uglier mini dramas playing out at the front and back of house, whether its sexual antics or socialpolitics in the gods or stage fright in the wings. There’s also a comedic interlude in which we see Il Boemo first encounter the young Mozart (played by young piano star Philip Hahn), which sees music as well as script get a well-deserved punchline, the prodigy showing his verve while his father sleeps off his supper, in a nice bit of visual humour that acts as crowning finesse. Dyk has a solid amount of magnetism in the lead role with his look and style reminding me of a blend of Jon Bon Jovi and a young Harrison Ford but this is an ensemble piece that, like the best orchestras, achieves its emotional crescendos through rhythm and harmony.