In a small town in Czechoslovakia, a shoe factory owner is looking to give his staff a boost. And how do you solve a problem like boosting company morale with an all female staff? Free mani-pedis with a complimentary quick dry topcoat? A subscription to In Touch or Us Weekly? Sample sale passes? No. He thinks, let’s get the People’s Army to send some soldiers our way. That’ll do it! Too bad that when the train pulls in they’re mostly the older married type and not a bunch of Black Hawn Down babes. Andula is one of these workers, a young blond who wants to find love. At the soldiers’ mixer she is intrigued by Milda, an aloof piano player and quite possibly the youngest blooded male in the room. During their minutes long courtship, Andula is reminiscent of a needy contestant on The Bachelor: desperately grasping for affection and incorrectly reading into the smallest details as signals of love and promise of a future. She quickly goes from cold to the touch to making grand proclamations of trust. “I do trust you, I trust you more than anyone!” she coos. Andula, let me introduce you to a little Janet Jackson single from ‘87 called Lets Wait a While. I suggest you play it on repeat.
In the moments of post-coital bliss she unwinds by interrogating him about other women and about an earlier comment on her body. You see Milda compared to a guitar painted by Picasso, a line which she devours. Now Andula could chalk this up to one night stand but no, this evening was an invitation to a life together. After going their separate ways she turns up the crazy: dumping her boyfriend and hitching the first ride into Milda’s town. Yet she arrives not to open arms and kisses but to his confused parents who are not really psyched on this surprise visitor. One of the films lighter scenes involves the parents interrogation of her and commenting on Andula as if she is not in the room. Her head bobs back and forth between the two elders as if watching a tennis match. And before the night is through its clear she might have been better to love Milda from afar. Cat Stevens had it right, The First Cut Is the Deepest.
