Better known for dramas like One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Amadeus, The People vs. Larry Flynt, and Man in the Moon, director Milos Forman was a prominent Czech New Wave filmmaker, who once made light-hearted comedies, but found himself severely restricted under Communist rule and left Prague for the United States after the 1968 Russian invasion.

Czech New Wave cinema enjoyed a small window of relative artistic freedom from 1963 until the dark forces of oppression rolled into Prague in 1968. The state-supported cinema enjoyed an unusual degree of popularity in the United States, partially due to interest in Eastern block countries and their culture and partially due to reactions against the excess of Hollywood. During those five years, Czechoslovakian filmmakers took home two Oscars for Best Foreign Film and other films like Jiri Menzel's Closely Watched Trains (Ostre sledovane vlaky) and Jan Kadar's The Shop on Main Street (Obchod na korze) received acclaim.


Forman's 1965 comedy, Loves of a Blond, was also nominated for a Foreign Language Film Academy Award, but his 1967 satire The Firemen's Ball (Hori, ma panenko) met stony silence from the Czech authorities and caused the Russian authorities to "climb the walls" (Forman's words) and ban the film from the country forever. Francois Truffaut prevented the comedy from being destroyed by paying off producer Carlo Ponti for the film rights.

Forman shares interesting background stories on the Criterion Collection DVD edition on this historically significant film. Especially enjoyable is his narrative about how the Communist authorities planted ringers during screenings that would attempt to convince the audience that the film was unsuitable and unfit, and how badly this strategy backfired when screening The Firemen's Ball in the small town where the film was located. They hadn't done their homework, because many in the audience were actors in the film, and they gave themselves raving reviews in spite of the ringer's pleas to the contrary.

The film itself has no individual stars, but the ensemble cast of non-professionals is thoroughly entertaining throughout the 77-minutes. A comedy of errors ensues as a group of firemen prepare to honor their ex-boss at a large party. Auction items are stolen or jostled when sexual play occurs beneath the table, decorations go up in flames as a worker is separated from his ladder, and the beauty pageant erupts in utter chaos.

The centerpiece rests with the hilarious search for the ball's beauty queen. The committee of firemen (directly paralleling Communist government structure) bungles its way to stage a last minute beauty queen pageant. They set out to recruit candidates, eyeing potential beauties from afar, cruising the dance floor staring into faces, seeking higher vantage points to examine bosoms better, approaching girls to convince them to compete, and accepting practically anyone willing to degrade herself. The final contestants are anything but beauties, and the bumbling committee sees their last minute coaching efforts fall apart when the girls panic and race off to the restroom at the crucial moment.

Communist officials claimed that they most detested how the working class people were portrayed, but Forman really satirizes the whole government and sociological structure. The committee proves incompetent and focuses on the wrong things—as they organize their ball and search for a beauty queen, a real fire breaks out next door where people are put in danger and lose all their earthly possessions.

Following some of the conceits of post-war Italian neo Realism, the minimalist story is filmed on location with non-actors; but under Forman's direction you'd swear that these delightful characters must be major Czechoslovakian film stars. They act so naturally and seem at home under the camera, but note that emotional depth is not demanded and the brevity of the film prevents the audience from noticing the lack of character development. Like a series of short sketches, the comedy entertains at a superficial level yet still communicates much about Czech society at that time, sneaking in some not so subtle political jabs.

As Foreman reveals, the one scene that most incensed the party leaders refers to the national malaise of the time, and the common practice of stealing, reflected by a popular saying: "Who doesn't steal, is stealing away from his family." One of the brigade members suffers pangs of honesty and attempts to return a headcheese that his wife had stolen only to be caught in the act. The fire brigade is mortified, and when one member justifies the errant member's actions and states that they would do the same, another responds:

"Never! In this situation never. Remember that. The good name of the fire brigade means more to me than any honesty, you pighead!"