Gai dimanche is the second of Tati’s screen performances to survive on celluloid, and this particular three-reel film was written with Enrico Sprocani, a circus clown known affectionately as Rhum. The pair’s own down-at-the-heels experiences inspired the story.
Tati and Rhum play tramps who come up with the idea of hiring a dilapidated old car to ferry tourists around the countryside. A series of visual gags offer an early insight into the themes and methods Tati would develop to perfection years later.

Neil McGlone

When her plan to be a classical pianist didn’t work out, Drahomíra Vihanová moved to Prague, worked as an assistant director on musical broadcasts for television, and attended Czech National Film School (FAMU) along with two other major directors of the coming nová vlna, the Czechoslovak New Wave – Věra Chytilová and Evald Schorm. After the success of her student film Fuga na černých klávesách (Fugue on the Black Keys, 1965), she was offered to make a feature at Barrandov Studios under the supervision of Jan Procházka. Vihanová decided to adapt Jiří Křenek’s novel Zabitá neděle and is said to have written the screenplay in just two weeks.
Shooting in Josefov started in August of 1968 but ceased abruptly two weeks later when Russian troops rolled into town. Returning to Prague, the crew had no idea if shooting would ever resume. In October, producer Procházka informed her that the film was no longer considered appropriate for the new political reality. But in spring, 1969, the situation had shifted again, and Vihanová was told that if there existed any hope for the film, she must work quickly and finish by the end of the year, since the new bosses at Barrandov would not be sympathetic.
Vihanová did manage to shoot again in the summer of that year, but the completed film was immediately banned along with four other films – Karel Kachyňa’s Ucho (The Ear, 1970), Zdeněk Sirový’s Smuteční slavnost (Funeral Ceremonies, 1969), Jiří Menzel’s Skřivánci na niti (Larks on a String,1969), and Evald Schorm’s Den sedmý, osmá noc (The Seventh Day, the Eighth Night, 1969). Vihanová herself was prohibited from making another feature and until 1994 worked cutting trailers for foreign films and making short documentaries.
This existential and absurdist drama about the disillusionment of a Communist military officer at his wits’ end both personally and professionally is a searing metaphor for the political situation in Czechoslovakia at the time. The film may be one of the darker offerings from the nová vlna, and, although lesser known, it marks Drahomira Vihanová as one of the key filmmakers of the movement. Zabitá neděle never screened until after the Velvet Revolution in 1989.

Neil McGlone