Opisy(1)

Žižkov barber Ferdinand Šuplátko is surprised by news of an inheritance that he has been left by his aunt in Warsaw. He leaves for Warsaw but is extremely disappointed. All that is left in her empty flat are twelve antique armchairs and a painting of the dead aunt. A Warsaw antiques dealer is willing to buy them from him. Šuplátko takes them all away at once, piled up into a pyramid. He does not notice that one of them has got caught on the gates of an orphanage and remains hanging there. After he returns home he finds a letter behind the painting in which his aunt informs him that one hundred thousand dollars have been sewn into the upholstery of one of the chairs. Šuplátko rushes back to the antique shop but the chairs have already been sold. Šuplátko arranges with the antiques dealer that they will look for the chairs and then split the profits. After various adventures they eventually find the armchairs but not the money. The disappointed men walk past the orphanage which is celebrating Orphan Day. Both men listen dumbfounded to a speech given by the director: she thanks the anonymous donor for giving these abandoned children one hundred thousand dollars which had been found hidden in the lining of the upholstery. (oficjalny tekst dystrybutora)

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Recenzje (3)

NinadeL 

wszystkie recenzje użytkownika

angielski The first Polish-Czechoslovak co-production was also the first film adaptation of the classic text by Ilf and Petrov, which was adapted for film by Karel Lamač. By 1945 alone, 6 more versions had been made. In the Czechoslovak-Polish environment, the theme was given to Vlasta Burian and Adolf Dymsza. Directed by the Mac Frič and Michal Waszyński duo, it created for the soloist Burian one of the few partnerships of his film career. Unfortunately, an incomplete print of the film is available today and therefore it is not possible to assess its true qualities. There is also a lack of comparison with contemporary Polish films, which would show that Waszyński, for example, had worked with Dymsza or Pogorzelska repeatedly. Formally, it is more of a slapstick sound film, which is unique in the contemporary context of Czechoslovak film. ()

D.Moore 

wszystkie recenzje użytkownika

angielski The film has not been preserved in its entirety, but there is not much missing in it, and if it had been preserved, it probably would not have been better. In its best moments, The Twelve Chairs resembles a silent grotesque, in which somebody speaks here and there by mistake, but otherwise there is not much that is worthwhile. Vlasta Burian and Adolf Dymsza form a very strange and unbalanced comic duo (guess which one is the better one), they don't understand each other unless they speak the language they just made up, and neither did I. ()

kaylin 

wszystkie recenzje użytkownika

angielski Such a nice nonsense with Vlasta Burian, who takes advantage of the fact that the story takes place in Poland. The best scene for me was definitely at the beginning, where Ferdinand meets Wladislaw and they are unable to communicate until they start whistling at each other, that really got me. A clever joke that doesn't come around often. Otherwise, it's quite a nice grotesque that sometimes goes a bit over the top. ()