CIFF 2022 | ‘Somewhere Over The Chemtrails’ review: Absurd Czech dramedy that falls a little short
Adam Koloman Rybanský and his friends aim for the stars with their debut full-length dramedy, but get lost somewhere in the clouds (and the chemtrails) instead.
Michal Isteník and Miroslav Krobot in “Somewhere Over The Chemtrails.” Photo courtesy of Btratři S.O.R.
According to its opening titles, “Somewhere Over The Chemtrails” is “a film by Adam Koloman Rybanský and his friends;” proudly announced as barmy trombone notes skronk away in the background. That certainly can’t be argued with. The film’s amiable, laconic brand of humour is the type that sidles up to you and jostles your shoulder right from the get-go; the kind that works best when conceived among friends who set out to lampoon an entire way of life and take no prisoners.
What’s being lampooned, in this case, is Czech small-town life, as seen through the eyes of Standa (Michal Isteník). He and his volunteer firefighter colleagues are hardly the muscular, ruddy-faced heroes one might expect. Instead, they are inept, under-qualified yahoos whose daily routines consist of double-fisting beers and vapes from sunrise to sunset. Standa can barely even cut down an ill-placed tree by himself; instead opting to ineffectually stand in place with a chainsaw while tracksuited youths dance around him to tinny Soundcloud rap. This life of leisure (and deeply sad emasculation) is soon overturned, however, as his fellow villagers begin to work themselves into a frenzy after a car accident at the annual Easter party is mistaken for a terrorist attack.
“Somewhere Over The Chemtrails” is one of those films that attempts to attack a highly pertinent issue — namely, the rise of xenophobia, fascism and fake news in continental Europe — through the lens of comedy. And in some ways, this works almost too well. Rybanský’s vision of small-town Czechia treats viewers to bizarre tableaux where the laughs essentially spell themselves out. Why wag a self-righteous finger at small-minded bigotry when you can simply show it to your audience and let it ridicule itself? From firefighters toting axes at church, to awkward silences at a sadly deflated village fête, and a horrifying vinegar-slathered sex scene that you can just about smell through the screen, “Somewhere Over The Chemtrails” packs in its jokes as densely as an overloaded clown car. In fact, it might hold the highest laugh-per-minute ratio out of the comedies I caught at the Chicago International Film Festival, let alone any comedy I’ve seen in a while.
But then we get to the real question — how many of those laughs are full-bodied guffaws, and how many are merely lightly snorted chuckles? The film’s jokes may never run dry, but their quality certainly does decrease as its runtime lopes along. Standa’s wife Jana (Anna Polívková) holds massive potential as a comedic asset by being the village’s sole voice of reason, and yet is criminally underwritten and underused by the film’s end. What about the titular chemtrails, you ask? Despite a promising conspiracy theory subplot that is introduced at the start, the chemtrails, too, get abandoned just past the halfway mark. And as if that wasn’t disappointing enough, “Somewhere Over The Chemtrails” ends abruptly right after its second plot twist is revealed; despite this new development being far more poignant and meaningful than the first. Leaving the cinema, I felt as underserved by the film as the little Czech village was underserved by Standa and his fire brigade of buffoons.
“Somewhere Over The Chemtrails” does still manage to make some excellent points, some of which aren’t even presented as comic relief. Viewers who go in expecting nothing but slapstick farce will be pleasantly surprised by rich, relevant discourse instead, from xenophobia perpetuated by integrated immigrants of colour — sound familiar, Rishi Sunak? — to the phenomenon of “white women’s tears.” But by juggling too much, the film ultimately undermines itself. What we’re left with are gags that run thin on the ground towards the end, and a narrative that grinds to a halt just as it finally gets good. Yet, this is only Rybanský’s first feature, and presumably a first for the friends mentioned in the opening credits, too. With enough focus and a little more flair, I don’t doubt their next film will be just the right amount of raucous.
