Lukas Vizner | Bytost (Only Human) / 2020

the liberating storm

by Douglas Messerli

 

Miriam Fulmeková and Lukas Vízner (screenplay), Lukas Vízner (director) Bytost (Only Human) / 2020 [28 minutes]

 

Like so very many LGBTQ short films, Slovakian director Lukas Vizner’s movie is a love story, but it is not until at least 13 minutes into this film before we fully realize that Krystof Janecký (Richard Pekárek) and Filip Varg’s (Tomás Magát) relationship is in the past, and it is only gradually that we come to perceive that their relationship was perhaps one of the most controversial of the gay community, not even their fellow gay friends being totally able to embrace the unlikely pairing, Krystof being a talented pianist, accompanist for Chloé (Ester Víznerová), a major singer, and his lover Filip working as a popular porn star.

     Even Krystof’s parents cancel lunch plans with the two of them, recognizing Filip as a lovely “friend” as opposed to their son’s beloved husband. Krystof himself attempts to find Filip a “real” job as an assistant manager and similar positions. Off the screen Filip is simply a hunky gardener, a man who finds a good rain storm comforting and liberating. Yet, Krystof has reason beyond the everyday prejudice he must face to be disturbed, particularly by the fact that Filip’s porno managers are pumping him up with performance drugs.

       But it is the prejudice Filip is made to feel at almost every formal event to which Krystof takes him that is the biggest contention in their relationship. How can supposedly intelligent and educated individuals treat Filip’s lover so cruelly, as if he didn’t even exist?

       Yet we know this happens all the time. When Howard and I were young, and I was still in the

university finishing by Masters and PhD, we used to attend Washington, D.C. parties, Howard being then a hot young Hirshhorn Museum curator, whereas I was received as if I might have been a hairdresser—nothing wrong with hairdressers—or some other sort of meaningless accessory not worthy of their “art” world. I felt uncomfortable and spurned. I can only imagine if I’d been in the sex “business.” Being a student was somehow of secondary worth, and even later being a professor of English was perceived as a liability. Krystof and Filip’s arguments remind me of our own at the time. Krystof’s argument that, “It is their game according to their rules,” doesn’t help. Why play with their rules?

    If Filip feels trapped in his role, it doesn’t help when Krystof insists that he find another job, “something normal.” Filip can’t imagine what that job might be. Besides he has a contract, and he is the primary financial support of the couple.

       We don’t truly know the cause of Filip’s death, but we can presume, after one of their fights, it might have involved drugs, a kind a suicide so that Krystof might live the “normal” life he so desperately desires.

       Most of the rest of this film feels secondary, Krystof going to court to block the continual distribution of his lover’s porn films, joined by Filip’s mother—a case they lose; Filip did have a contract as he kept reminding Krystof, and the judge agrees that the contract is still valid. Yes, the continued viewing of those films on the pornographer’s internet website are understandably torturous to the young pianist. But one wants to take him by the lapels and shake him into the reality that Filip’s life was not meaningless simply because his employment involved his body engaged in sex.

      But sadly, we know that no society is ever going to agree with that concept? Certainly not the conservative European world, not the macho Catholic cultures across the planet, or the still Puritan US. They will happily watch the porno films and label the actor within them unworthy of their social status. Only in autre moments do certain parts of the culture vaguely embrace such figures, such as the actors in Andy Warhol’s movies or the arty films and photos of people like Bruce Weber or Robert Mapplethorpe. Even Howard, in describing this very project, feels it necessary to remind our friends that I am not writing about porn. We are all embarrassed by our sexual desires and certainly don’t want to fully share them with others.

     It seems shocking to me that one of our most natural instincts, our sexual urges is something we feel most uncomfortable about sharing with others.

      Krystof resolves his suffering by singing a song at the end of Chloé’s concert about his love for Filip. Too bad, it’s a rather rambling kitsch song during which the director shows us clips of their good times together, but it serves its purpose: a gentle memorium for the man he’s lost.

     The lawyer apologizes for his own prejudice and back in his hotel room, Krystof goes to the window where he hears the thunder of the liberating storm Filip so loved.

 

Los Angeles, February 28, 2024

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema (February 2024).