A pair of twin brothers living in an isolated farm in the forests of Šumava are profiled in Better Go Mad in the Wild (Raději zešílet v divočině), which won this year’s Karlovy Vary International Film Festival and premieres in Prague cinemas from Sept. 18 (with English subtitles at Kino Světozor and other venues). This strikingly composed documentary is less interested in profiling these characters than in artfully capturing their peculiar existence, which director Miro Remo accomplishes with a touching, and perhaps even haunting, precision.
Despite their now-reclusive nature, Ondřej and František Klišík are not lifelong hermits: in the late 1980s, they were involved in the Šumava Underground movement, which distributed anti-communist pamphlets in concert with the movement that led to the Velvet Revolution. Prior to the events of the film, they were even decorated for their efforts by the Czech state.
Director Remo was turned on to the story of these brothers by a novel from author Aleš Palán and photographer Jan Šibík, which—one can only assume, given the limitations of the page—told the Klišíks’ story in more conventional terms. But while we do learn key facts about their life here, including a sawmill accident that resulted in František losing an arm (the only reliable way to tell the brothers apart), Better Go Mad in the Wild is more interested in recreating their daily existence for viewers, and allowing us an unusually intimate window into their world.
It’s not entirely a fly-on-the-wall approach: Remo and cinematographer Dušan Husár set up impossibly intricate shots, many of which must have needed the direct participation of the subjects. The resulting compositions are artificial but striking, and set the tone for the movie: the decrepit cottage and muddy farm recall a Grey Gardens, but there’s an affectionate beauty in the way that they’ve been captured.
Ondřej and František never address the camera, and at all times appear to be unaware of complex setups needed to accomplish these shots. Basic narration—needed to at least give us some background on these characters—is not delivered by the filmmakers or the protagonists themselves, but by one of their cows, Nandy; actor Jiří Lábus provides the voice of the animal, who lip syncs in offbeat sequences through either visual effects.
Throughout Better Go Mad in the Wild, Ondřej and František go about their simple lives: plowing the fields for crops that include marijuana, taking care of livestock, and relentlessly bickering with each other. The one-armed František, a hopeless poet, is less helpful in the manual takes. Ondřej is more of a realist; “There’s shit in our manure!” he shouts as he pulls a sheet of plastic from the muck.
Ondřej and František are endearingly colorful characters, and a great antidote to the personalities that filled the recent Change My Mind. František strings up a Ukrainian flag that will not be seen in the middle of the forest, and shouts “Sláva Ukrajině” to deaf ears. Their lives of blissful ignorance contain a profound wisdom that eludes others after years of hand-on internet research.
The filmmakers followed the brothers over a five-year period, which allowed them to capture both the ordinary rhythms and the peculiar flourishes of their secluded life. We see the twins wandering naked through the mossy forests, swimming in lakes, and rarely interacting with the “outside” world. Instead, the film highlights their unusual intimacy with their surroundings—their animals and their land—that offers a whimsical yet deeply human portrait of coexistence with nature.
The day after Better Go Mad in the Wild won the top prize at Karlovy Vary, František was found dead in a small pond outside of Prague. Throughout the movie, he is seen wearing a cape and wings, threatening to jump from tall heights (which he sometimes does) like a small child emulating Superman; within the narrative of the movie, he also survives a bull attack that saw him airlifted by helicopter to the hospital. The postscript is not entirely a surprise.
But the bond between these twin brothers, closer than most of us will ever experience, is the central crux of the movie; at one point, František compares the two to Cain and Abel, stating that the very nature of twins dictates that one is good and one is evil. Reality has added an extra layer of poignancy to Better Go Mad in the Wild; the movie is now dedicated to František’s memory, but we can’t help but imagine Ondřej’s now solitary life on the farm.
