Review: It's Baudrillard Revisited In Czech Anti-Rom DELIGHT

Milena, a film editor in her 30s, catches herself entangled in a relationship where her sole meaningful communication occurs via text message. Her professional life seems to be battlefield as she tries to maintain the integrity of a project while its director, focused only on being able to finish and sell a documentary on transvestites, is willing to submit to all producer demands. The backbone of Delight comes from a melodramatic and absurd relationship between Milena and a hedonistic interpreter, who runs out of Milena´s bed each time in a strange, eurphoric, post-coital mist. 

The original sixpack of characters from Dreamers shrivels here to one (female) leading protagonist and two (male) supporting characters. However, the mental configuration of the characters remains unchanged; the three of them are trying to figure life out, albeit each in his or her own way, and with different neuroses. 

As Milena struggles in a deflated love affair, her director friend finally breaks through and Milena´s good friend, artist Hynek Valentýn, comes with an original, but shocking piece of art. Obsession heavily fuels the quest of the three to get their lives back on a track. On which track though, remains yet another puzzle to be solved. The aimlessness and hardship navigating life have grown into emblems of young generation. 

Rudolfová pushes the narrative through the use of repetition, a concept which could itself arguably serve as a generational manifesto. She uses repetition as ritual and routine,  as endless process of duplication. As author Chuck Palahniuk said: "Everything's a copy of a copy of a copy." However, the director does not paraphrase the Fight Club author. Rather, she addresses a higher authority and the father of the idea, Jean Baudrillard (Milena falls asleep while reading Dialogues with Baudrillard in one scene). 

Delight showcases several prominent observations of the French philosopher and transforms them into the landscape where Rudolfová´s characters breathe and struggle with their existence. The film features an abundance of screens. On these, simulation and virtual reality create the inseparable fibre of Delight´s texture, and their omnipresent incandescent glare penetrates the cold and seemingly cruel world. 

The biggest chunk of narrative follows Milena in her anti-rom odyssey. The outstretched strife for the affections of her virtual Casanova are justified by the motif of repetition and the baudrillaresque poetics. The director also demonstrates her talent for getting the most out of small spaces, most notably in Valentýn's plot line, as well as several minuscule satirizing narrative digressions. However, the magic of Delight reside in reconciliation of Rudolfová´s directing and Ferdinand Mazurek´s cinematograph, which uses foreground and background to stage witty visual gags and commentaries. A giant screen running advertisements all day and night long bombards Milena´s bedroom while ads directly or indirectly comment on particular scenes. 

Some voices have already hailed the director for being second Věra Chytilová. It´s a bit early for such overstatement, but nevertheless Rudolfová proves to be promising filmmaker with a distinct vision. Compelling composition, functional use of background and sly employment of Baudrillards´ ideas make up for the melodrama and rank Delight high above usual standard.