Nothing fosters cinematic satire better than a repressive regime in the midst of tentative reform. Such a situation existed on the mainland prior to the 1989 Tiananmen Square crackdown, when gems such as (1985) and (1988) shone hilarious light on the changing social mores that were challenging a stagnant system. Some 20 years earlier, it was Communist Party of Czechoslovakia's leader Alexander Dubcek's attempts at liberalisation that fomented a wave of creativity that ground to a halt with the arrival of Soviet tanks in 1968.
At the crest of that celluloid surge was (1967), the final Czech feature by director Milos Forman before his self-imposed exile in the West, and Oscars for (1975) and (1984). The film's title neatly sums up its central theme, as the story, a series of vignettes, is set almost wholly inside the hall where festivities for a village's fire department are being held.
It's a rather drab affair - with the humble decorations, refreshments, raffle prizes, and entertainment not unlike similar celebrations across the 1960s socialist bloc. Forman's approach is seemingly straightforward as he pokes gentle fun at the morals and manners of the organisers and guests. But the accumulation of details reveals a rich subtext that amiably lampoons the department and, by extension, an entire regime reeking of corruption, shoddiness, and decay.
The proceedings teeter on the edge of whimsy and hyperbole but remain grounded in reality, due in part to Forman's shooting in actual locations and utilising an extremely naturalistic, non-professional cast. It's a time capsule of Czechoslovakian society at a crossroads - with apparatchiks mouthing Marxist rhetoric while capitalist pop culture infiltrates even small towns in a way that would have been unimaginable in contemporary China.
From this perspective, the off-beat rendition of The Beatles' , performed by the gala's dance band, is nearly as shocking as two young revellers' under-the-table make-out session. Even more bracing is the beauty pageant and one young lady's change into a two-piece bathing suit before a panel of male officials.
The middle-aged functionaries barely conceal their leering glances while hypocritically referring to the bevy of questionable beauties as "comrade candidates".
Forman keeps things moving at a brisk pace and the film's total running time is an economical 71 minutes.
