Whilst mainstream cinema more often favours the safe and the familiar, some of the most remarkable films ever made are those that dismantle the very idea of what is conventional and slip through the cracks of popular culture. Among these hidden gems, few works have pushed the boundaries of filmmaking to the extent of Věra Chytilová’s Daisies (1966). Inventive, absurdist, and defiantly feminist, Daisies presents an anarchic and visually striking spectacle that epitomises the meaning of experimental film. More than a historical artefact of 1960s counterculture, Daisies remains relevant and artistically radical almost sixty years later.
Daisies emerged from the artistically fertile ground of the Czech New Wave, a brief but fiercely experimental movement that dominated Czech film in the 1960s. The Czech New Wave was made possible by a period of cultural liberalisation. Following the death of Stalin, Nikita Khrushchev promoted a more moderate mode of socialism. The period became named the ‘Khrushchev Thaw’, allowing for greater criticism of inequality and bureaucracy as censorship became more relaxed. Filmmakers could escape the grip of Stalinist-era social realism which demanded state-approved idealised versions of life. What followed was Czech filmmakers responding to the social trauma and political inequality of the Stalinist era. During this creative opening, Chytilová, an innovator of this movement, crafted Daisies, a film that would cement her place as a radical voice in world cinema. The film shattered both narrative and ideological convention; it was not merely stylistically adventurous but politically subversive.
At its core, Daisies is a film about female rebellion. The film follows two young women, both named Marie, as they embark on an unapologetic rampage of indulgence, mischief, and chaos. The plot resists coherence in favour of disorder, as the narrative is structured by a sequence of disjointed vignettes. The Maries flirt with and deceive men, gorge themselves on extravagant meals, indulge in wanton acts of destruction, and position themselves as focal points of the public eye. Indeed, they command the attention of the world around them through public disruption, their transgressions transformed into spectacle. They are often centred in the frame, breaking the fourth wall to look directly into the camera. This reinforces their agency through constructing a returned gaze with the audience, disrupting passive viewership and encouraging active critical engagement.
Visually, the film reflects this narrative havoc: jump cuts collide with psychedelic colour filters, scenes switch abruptly between monochrome and saturated colour, and images are mirrored, reversed, or interrupted. Just as the Maries defy societal expectations of how women should behave, Chytilová defies expectations of cinematic continuity. This rebellion holds greater significance when considering that Chytilová was the first female student at the FAMU film school in Prague, paving the way for female expression in a male-dominated industry. Chytilová transforms editing from a passive mode of storytelling into a political weapon, attacking the patriarchal structures that dictate how women should behave and how films should be constructed.
The Maries are not designed to be digestible characters, nor do they conform neatly to familiar archetypes of tragic victims or righteous rebels. They are joyfully disruptive, self-serving, and unapologetically hedonistic. Therefore, it is clear that Chytilová is not offering role models to be placed on a pedestal; she instead aims to provoke the audience. The Maries are a parody of the roles which women are expected to occupy. Whereas modesty and restraint were the expectation, they are indulgent and excessive. Their transgressions challenge the limitations of a culture fixated on control, particularly over the female body.
Even their childlike mannerisms and line delivery confront the infantilisation of women, not only rejecting social performance but embodying a grotesque caricature, exposing the absurdity of the monitoring of female behaviour by embodying childish mischief. Even today, almost sixty years later, Daisies retains its significance in an era where female bodies and behaviour face a renewed scrutiny in the digital age. This enduring relevance makes Daisies a true hidden gem. The presentation of female autonomy as unapologetically disruptive and gleefully messy still feels like a breath of fresh air.
Unsurprisingly, the film was banned shortly after its release. The official reason for this was the destruction of food, largely in reference to the climactic scene in which the Maries trample over a banquet table, feasting on and destroying food, a parody of the elite’s wealth and excess during a time of famine. What truly earned the censorship was, in reality, the film’s mockery of authority, celebrating chaos as a form of resistance. This suppression only further cements Daisies as a hidden gem. Despite having been buried by state censorship, Daisies has been rediscovered and praised for its unique style and rebellious attitude.
Daisies is a reminder of cinema’s power as a medium of social rebellion. Věra Chytilová didn’t just make a feminist film – she produced a piece that pushes all boundaries of cinema, amplifying a female voice demanding to be heard in a world that systematically tries to silence it.
