Daisies (Vera Chytilová, 1966)

If aimless frolicking is what you desire, and I mean really desire (the kind of desire that makes you want to marinade your subconscious in a rich plum sauce), then look no further than Daisies (a.k.a. Sedmikrásky). An extremely colourful film about a couple of hyperactive gal pals in search of meaningless thrills in the hazy morass that is Czechoslovakia (Land of the Czechs, Slovaks, and one really frightened Sri Lankan dude named Priya). Erupting from the fertile minds of a bunch of people I've never heard of, the stylish film made me want to devour my own brain; as it inundates the viewer with a constant barrage of images that primarily involve girlish glee, the systematic emasculation of anyone wearing a dick, and the mass consumption of fruits, vegetables, meat, booze, and a hodgepodge of baked goods. Once you get past the shots of churning machinery spliced with stock footage of jet-fighters strafing ground dwellers with tracer fire, Vera Chytilová's highly inventive film literally explodes with an unperturbed sense of whimsy. In fact, the explosion was so pronounced, that it caused all my theoretical girl parts to burst into flames. The constant filter changes and crazy editing also contributed to my gender-confused state of mind.

In all seriousness, the film seems to be a stinging satire about how piggish Moravian society has become. But I resisted that hypothesis at every turn, and chose to see the film as one giant mucus slap to conformity. As these ladies do whatever they want, whenever they want.

There's no denying that the film poses some deep, philosophical questions about human existence and the meaning of life. However, the film also presents one of the most agonizing predicaments in the history of modern cinema: The blonde or the brunette. Who do I want to engage in the copulatory act with?

Now, this kind of question may fly in the face of the film's feminist bent, but there's no way to avoid its asking, as the scantily clad Ivana Karbanová (Blonde) and Jitka Cerhová (Brunette) gambolled their way through my cardiovascular system. Anyway, after much [unseemly] deliberation, I ended up selecting Ivana.

Her overall sense of gaiety was a tad more acute than Jitka's. In addition, the face she makes whilst taking a sip of the milky bath water she was immersed in made my spirit soar to a place that doesn't exist. So, you see, my choice was obvious.

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