The Unbearable Lightness of Being

What struck me during my revisit with 1988's THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING was its comfort in being sexual.  It is one of the least self conscious such Hollywood films I've seen. There are several scenes of lovemaking, most playful and full of joy.  There are other scenes of nudity in which characters study each other, whether in abandonment or curiosity.   Maybe this pleased author Milan Kundera, upon whose book of the same name this movie is based.  Apparently, little else did, leading him to forbid any of his other works to be filmed.

The story follows a Czech surgeon named Tomas (Daniel Day Lewis) who approaches his love life with the same rationality as his work. Women are to be pursued for pleasure, a biological necessity.  Maybe he has the capacity to actually love someone, but even when he finds and later marries Tereza (Juliette Binoche), he can't stop requesting his co-workers, patients, and longtime lover, the artistic and free spirited Sabina (Lena Olin) to "take off your clothes."  Tomas does not have the capacity for guilt. Sees his activities as unrelated to the relationship he has with Tereza, someone far less experienced and cynical.  When she tries to pursue her own affairs, she can never get lost in and enjoy such illicit acts.  Maybe she's not made that way, even after a series of life disruptions.

The film takes place in the late 1960s, when the Soviets invaded Czechoslovakia.  Tomas, who makes a studied effort to avoid politics, writes an article criticizing the Communist government under which he lives.  It was written before the invasion, but nonetheless threatens him later on as he attempts to resume his career after fleeing to Switzerland for a time.  This element of THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING gets slighted, in my opinion.  How a man of science and carnality attempts to shield himself from the grim realities.  The film is mainly focused on the complex relationships the three principals share with each other (and a few others) and while director Philip Kaufman's film succeeds grandly in that arena, I wanted more of the political story.

This is a very long film, and the third hour grows a bit sluggish.  Some trimming might've helped.  Also, the tragic finale does not have the intended emotional impact for me.  Rather, it retains the cold veneer of most of the previous two hours and forty minutes.  Not that the film isn't moving and powerful.  I've always been intrigued with it, even if Kundera's more abstract ideas just couldn't make it to the screen.