Valerie and Her Week of Wonders (1970)

I’ve never menstruated so there might be details about this luscious Czech art film that fly clear over my head. On the other hand, director Jaromil Jireš has never menstruated, either, so maybe I’m cool. Regardless, it’s still a beautiful work that belongs on the shortlist of movies that capture the strange hallucination of youth. It’s breezy, exotic and truly feels like a dream. It begins with a young girl’s coming of age, evidenced by blood that drips onto grass and flowers one day as she walks over them. From there, Jireš renders adolescent confusion and determination as a story of vampires and magic (as adapted from the novel by Vítězslav Nezval). The plot spins your head, but it makes sense as fairy tale logic. Rather than follow a straight path, its story turns as if through secret passageways and trap doors. Anything can happen and it’s never at a loss for a gorgeous image. Maybe its biggest surprise though is that it’s only seventy-six minutes long. It moves at a breathless snap, but packs in so many ideas that it feels longer. This masterpiece is among the very rare films for which that’s a compliment. There’s a lot of heft to this slender frame.