Blog Post on Divided We Fall

            In Jan Hrebejk’s film Divided We Fall, the director concentrates on the daily experience and difficult dilemmas faced by residents of a small Czech town during the Nazi occupation.  The precise location is left blank so that a general audience can relate to it.  Just as the main character, Josef Čižek, is an “everyman,” the city is an “everytown.”  The village that he and his wife, Maria, live in is purposefully portrayed as remote and “ordinary” to act as a microcosm for the rest of Czechoslovakia.

            The film takes place solely in and around the town; instead of examining the war from the perspective of soldiers, or the ethnic groups targeted by the Nazi regime, it focuses on how it affected the daily lives of the residents.  Whereas many films depict battlefields or concentration camps during World War II, the intimate setting in Divided We Fall allows us to understand the complexity of the Czech war experience through the subtleties of relationships between family, friends, and acquaintances.

            The small town setting also demonstrates that no place was too small or out of the way for the Nazis to occupy.  The viewer can thus experience the effects of Nazi occupation from the perspective of an ordinary civilian.  The action of the film takes place primarily on one street, which lends an air of insularity to the city; one knows one’s neighbors intimately.  The lack of any range of setting typifies the insulating effect that the war had on many people, especially in Eastern Europe where informants were common. The insular effect of the war is also alluded to when Horst claims that Maria “voluntarily lives in a tomb” and she responds, saying, “we all do.”  Choosing a domestic location as the primary setting for the film emphasizes the invasiveness of Nazi occupation in daily life, and the danger of resisting.  The choice of this isolated apartment magnifies the fear, suspense, and emotional tension. 

            The film technically starts in 1937 when the Wiener family moves into their house, but the main body of narration focuses on the two-year period from 1943 to 1945 when David Wiener hides in the Čižeks’ apartment, which was also the last two years of Nazi occupation of Czechoslovakia.  The fact that we get a few glimpses of life before the war is instrumental in conveying how much the lives of the townspeople change when the war begins.  Prior to the war Josef worked for a company owned by the Wieners, a wealthy Jewish family.  When the Nazis invade, the village splinters from a bustling intermeshed community into groups of nationalist Czechs, pro-Nazi Czechs, and Jews.  In the face of the Nazi might, no external resistance takes place, and the villagers simply attempt to survive.

            Josef and Maria Čižek come to hide David Wiener in their home, in a way, by accident. Josef stumbles on David in the Wiener villa when he goes to safeguard the family’s jewels from the Nazis who are coming next morning.  The Čížeks come to hide David in their home largely as a result of circumstance and loyalty, instead of outward heroism. Even though Josef prefers to maintain a quiet, isolated, and somewhat lazy existence at home with his wife, his memories of David’s decency before the war trigger a sense of fidelity—reluctantly compelling him to protect his former employer after he escapes from an extermination camp in Poland.  Josef comes to realize that David’s fate and that of the Čížek family are unavoidably entwined—if Josef doesn’t protect David, the Nazis will most likely find him and execute the Čížeks for refusing to turn in the fugitive.

            The “decision” to keep him thereafter was based mainly on preserving their own safety and that of the whole neighborhood – David could potentially be traced back to the Čižeks, and as Maria reminds Josef, “You decided for him, for you, for me, and for everyone on this street.”  Josef’s only real moment of choice is when he decides not to rat out David in the villa. After that, the other “decisions” are not really decisions but consequences of that first choice.  Tied into the contrast of helping each other and dividing against each other are the themes of heroism and cowardice.  Both heroism and cowardice are rarely portrayed as proactive decisions, but rather as reactions to moments.

            The notion of heroism during World War II is a tricky one for the Czechs and Divided We Fall reflects this.  It portrays heroism in a very cynical light, consistently undercutting what would normally be viewed as heroic acts.  Dr. Albrecht Kepke’s younger son, who was raised to be a Nazi soldier, turns out to be a coward, getting shot by his own countrymen for desertion.  The film portrays the German notion of heroism as clear-cut.  One is a hero or a coward; there are no qualifications or asterisks attached to either category, such as the fact that Dr. Kepke’s younger son was only a child, and it was wrong for his parents to send him to war.  Thus, this black and white dichotomy is portrayed as dangerous in the film. Time and again, the film portrays “help” as the simple act of staying faithful to those who helped you.  In this sense, the film implicitly dismisses Dr. Albrecht Kepke’s notion that true heroism, like that supposedly shown by his older deceased sons, can only be found on the frontlines of battle.

            Josef, though heroic for saving David, is actually very fearful and apathetic – qualities incongruous with the typical heroic personality.  For example, Josef is ultimately a hero because he spends two years risking his life as well as every life on his street to house a Jewish fugitive. However, Josef is hostile toward David and frequently exhibits behavior that could be labeled as “cowardly,” such as soiling his pants upon finding David in the middle of the night.  The Čižeks could be considered heroes for taking David in, but one must also remember that by being “heroic,” they are putting all of their neighbors in danger.

            Similarly, even Horst Prochazka, whom the filmmakers illustrate as a cowardly, adulterous collaborator insists to Josef that “we must help each other”—and diverts Nazi investigators despite his knowledge that the Čížeks are hiding a Jew in their home.  While visiting the Čižeks, Horst says, “Who would be foolish enough today to act like a hero... We have to survive.  Every lovely thing should survive, be saved, eh?”  Then, as the war was coming to a close, Horst began expressing his fears about being skinned by the Czechs; immediately after, Horst helped the Čižeks deflect the German police to save them and the Jew that they were hiding. Josef offering Horst a cigarette both times linked the two scenes- the first time Horst snuffed him, yet the second time he accepted the offer and said “divided we fall.”

            Lastly, Franta, viewed as a hero for leading the local resistance against the Nazis, was also the first to attempt to report David’s return out of fear that he would be killed.  Every character in the film exists somewhere on a spectrum between heroism and cowardice, an ambiguity reminiscent of the passive resistance of the “good soldier Švejk” in Czech literature.

            The film emphasizes that the concepts of help and heroism don’t stem from bold, visible acts of defiance, but rather from remaining true to one’s morals and relationships when the direst of situations arise.  In contrast to most war movies, Divided We Fall largely portrays heroism as the simple act of being loyal and staying true to friends, even in times of crisis and imminent danger.  Individuals like Josef and Horst are weak and helpless when facing a faceless, shapeless terror that is everywhere.  The film rationalizes the nation’s collaboration with the occupiers and its somewhat cowardly endurance: because survival is in itself heroic, collaboration can be forgiven.

            Instead of focusing on the physical heroism of combat, as is so often portrayed in films addressing World War II, Divided We Fall sends the message that ordinary people must work together and assist each other.  This film conveys a sense of a national Czech community.  And it is this community that will fall if divided.  The Čižeks, along with everyone else, seem to be deteriorating as the film progresses, as the isolation becomes debilitating.  Horst says, “We must help each other” to Josef several times: first to persuade him to work for the Germans and later to explain why he protects the Čižek family.  By saying “we need to help each other,” Horst is stressing his own Czech identity and at the same time subconsciously rejecting his connection with the Germans.  Rather than imply collaboration with the Germans, this sentence suggests collaboration with fellow Czechs.  The ending of the film portrays this theme powerfully, as only through helping each other are Josef, Maria, David, and Horst all saved from almost certain death and the rebuilding process can begin.

            The actor Bolek Polívka, who plays Josef Čižek, communicates mainly with his eyes, usually by widening them or occasionally glaring to show Josef’s emotions.  His eyes usually show his fear, disgust, or whatever emotion he is experiencing.  Josef does not change his character based on whether he is playing the “rescuer” or the “collaborator”.  Horst tried to teach him a blank loyal stare, and Josef could only contort his face into something that looked vacant and dumb.  He looks phony when he practices his face with Horst; when Maria tells Horst and Dr. Kepke about being pregnant—an instance when Josef should have used his practiced face—Josef’s face gives away his immense surprise.

            Josef’s gestures and expressions are comical at times, but hint at deeper emotions.  Josef’s body language expresses his fear and courage, despair and joy, indifference and compassion.  After first taking in David, Josef reacts sometime later by soiling himself from the realization that he is hiding a Jew.  Shortly after Josef learns about his infertility, he tries to socialize with a schoolteacher and her students, but comes across as resolutely creepy.  Josef is always touching his wife in some way, a symbol of trust and loyalty.  On the other side, he is able to successfully convey skepticism or disdain through even slight changes in his facial expression.  Polívka smooches his fugitive, David, out of frustration after yelling at him for attempting to leave; similarly, in a later scene, Polívka kisses David again to express relief at his timely reappearance when the Captain threatened to shoot his Josef for “collaborating” with the Nazis.  These very human gestures allow us to clearly see how Josef struggles with both the roles of “rescuer” and “collaborator.”

            Polívka depicts the character of Josef Čižek as a reluctant rescuer.  The fear and desperation whenever Josef played the role of rescuer are immediately clear from Polívka’s acting.  He is unnatural in many of his responses, such as his awkward belting of “Mein Gorilla” when he needs to distract Horst from David and Maria under the bed covers.  Despite his clumsiness, however, Josef is effective and is the film’s rescuer.  Josef combines in himself the apathetic civilian, wanting only to return to a normalcy and the heroic rescuer, risking everything to save a friend’s life.

            This film blurs the lines between collaborating with the enemy and staying loyal to one’s home, which can both be considered “help.”  This film depicts no straightforward collaboration or loyalty.  Collaboration is “helping” the enemy.  For this reason, anyone and everyone could be a collaborator.  However, the interconnectedness of events, such as the ones that led to Josef working for Dr. Kepke, illustrates that collaboration is more complex that aiding and abetting the enemy.  Josef reminds us that all the collaboration occurring is part of a complicated situation: “You wouldn’t believe what abnormal times can do to normal people.”  Forgiveness must be offered to one’s countrymen, because no one emerged scot-free.  Collaborating with the enemy is not the same as being the enemy, especially when there is an inequity of physical power.

Edited by Ben Collins-Wood and Katie Contess