‘Czechoslovak Architecture 58-89’ movie review: a monumental tour of communist-era landmarks

Landmark buildings across the Czech Republic and Slovakia fill the screen in Czechoslovak Architecture 58-89, a captivating new documentary from director Jan Zajíček that played at this year’s Karlovy Vary International Film Festival and will premiere on Sept. 25 in Prague at the former Hotel InterContinental, one of the locations featured in the film. Screenings at the upcoming Film and Architecture festival will follow ahead of a nationwide rollout from Nov. 7 courtesy distributor Aerofilms.

This fascinating documentary not only takes us on a whirlwind tour of some of the monumental buildings that still dominate locations across the Czech Republic and Slovakia, but also tells the story of the architects who created them—some of whom were officially blacklisted by the communist state, and helped build their monuments without credit.

There are so many divergent narratives across both the buildings and their creators in Czechoslovak Architecture 58-89 that this two-hour film will undoubtedly leave you wanting more. Thankfully, more already exists in the form of Architektura 58–⁠89, an eight-episode series from the same creative team that premiered on Czech Television last year and covers much of the same ground in greater detail.

Most of the landmarks showcased in Czechoslovak Architecture 58-89 are still standing, but the film opens with one that isn’t: the brutalist-adjacent Transgas building in Prague’s Vinohrady neighborhood, captured by filmmakers ahead of its demolition in 2019. Václav Aulický, one of the architects behind the design of the building, shares a eulogy for his creation in front of a graffiti-tagged construction zone.

The plight of the Transgas building serves as a metaphor for the landmarks covered over the course of the movie, many of which have been neglected since the fall of the Iron Curtain; for modern Czech society, they can serve as ghosts of the Soviet era, haunting memories of decades of oppression that aren’t worth saving.

Many of the buildings in Czechoslovak Architecture 58-89 are well-known to locals and aren’t detailed in depth; the documentary provides only cursory mention of such towering landmarks like the Žižkov Television Tower, which was still under construction when the Iron Curtain fell and already a relic of the past when it was completed in 1992.

There are also some hidden gems here, including one that was intentionally hidden for years: the former Poľana Hotel, now the Hotel Montfort, in Slovakia’s Tatra National Park. Originally envisioned as a getaway for top officials for the Czechoslovak Communist Party and visiting diplomats, the hotel even included a direct line to the Kremlin—which is still on display, but presumably decommissioned.

Ironically, the hotel was designed by Štefan Svetko, who had been blacklisted by communist authorities but still recruited to build their luxury retreat for his architectural prowess; his involvement was concealed from the public. The Poľana Hotel would ultimately serve as the location where Vladimír Mečiar and Václav Klaus signed off on the Velvet Divorce, the dissolution of Czechoslovakia.

Many of the landmark buildings featured in Czechoslovak Architecture 58-89 are associated with brutalism, but according to one interviewee, only one is truly brutalist: Prague’s Hotel InterContinental. Designed by Karel Filsak, the building bears the same use of reinforced concrete that characterized the architect’s designs for Czechoslovak embassies abroad, including those in Brasilia, Beijing, Cairo, and Delhi.

Unlike the Transgas building, the brutalist Hotel InterContinental has been spared demolition, and will reopen next spring after five years of reconstruction as the rebranded Fairmont Golden Prague Hotel. Visitors can get a sneak peek during a preview screening of Czechoslovak Architecture 58-89 at the newly-renovated location on Sept. 25.

Truth in naming: you know exactly what you’re getting into with Czechoslovak Architecture 58-89, and anyone with even a passing interest in Soviet-era architecture or Czech history need not be sold on the experience, which was originally conceived by Czech musician and artist Vladimir 518, and also exists in print form in his hefty book.

For the uninitiated, watching a two-hour documentary with this title might seem like a demanding imposition. But this tour of Czechoslovak architecture also tells the story of the nation, and of the people behind the landmarks, and anyone who gives into its whirlwind narrative will be richly rewarded by an engrossing piece of storytelling.

Lead photo: Slovak Radio Building in Bratislava