Directed by: Juraj Herz
Distributed by: Ústřední půjčovna filmů
Written by Livvy O’Brien
60/100
There’s something dreamlike about Juraj Herz’s approach to the Beauty and the Beast tale. Rich in symbolism and atmosphere, it carries a haunting beauty that seeps into every frame. “Panna a Netvor” (1978) offers a dark, unsettling take on the familiar fairy tale, embracing the power of visual storytelling to create a world that feels both enchanting and deeply unnerving. Raw, poetic, and unafraid to explore the more surreal aspects of its narrative, “Panna a Netvor” feels strikingly distinct from its more lighthearted counterparts.
The film follows Julie, a merchant’s daughter who offers herself to a mysterious beast in exchange for her father’s life. Taken to his shadowy castle, she finds herself drawn into a world of eerie beauty. The beast, a grotesque bird-like figure tormented by violent urges, keeps his distance yet seems strangely vulnerable. As Julie’s presence stirs something deeper within him, their uneasy relationship begins to shift in unexpected ways.
Right from the opening credits, Herz sets the tone with a series of gothic paintings—romantic but eerie, like half-remembered nightmares. I was immediately hooked. That’s the thing about “Panna a Netvor:” it doesn’t just tell the story, it wraps you in it. Unlike other versions of the tale that tend to favour whimsy or romance, Herz leans fully into the psychological. The beast isn’t some misunderstood prince waiting to be saved. He’s a creature wracked with guilt and fear, haunted by a rasping voice that urges him toward violence. That inner torment adds a genuine edge of horror, turning the familiar story into something much darker and far more compelling.
The dynamic between Julie and the beast is quiet, awkward, uncertain, yet sweet. There’s a slow-burning tenderness to their relationship, even though the film never fully romanticizes it. Julie’s presence forces the Beast to confront the guilt and fear that have long defined him. In her innocence and purity, she unknowingly becomes a mirror for him. As she interacts with him, seeing only his humanity, she begins to humanise him in his own eyes. The pivotal moment when she touches his hand is especially significant—her purity seems to cleanse him, and in that act, the beast gradually comes to realise he’s not a monster. This sparks a profound transformation, both physical and emotional, slowly breaking down the tormented figure he’s been. Ultimately, it reveals a more human side of him. Through Julie’s quiet belief in his humanity, he begins to shed the layers of his past and move toward something gentler, more human.
That said, the film isn’t without its flaws. The score, while beautifully composed, leans a bit too heavily on just two recurring themes: one ominous and foreboding, the other soft and delicate. At first, these motifs work wonderfully to underscore the mood, but as they repeat, their impact starts to diminish. By the third or fourth time they play, they begin to lose their effectiveness, bordering on repetitiveness and even feeling somewhat satirical. Similarly, while the plot is captivating, it stumbles in certain areas, with some character motivations feeling a bit rushed. Julie’s decision to stay at the castle, for example, lacks sufficient emotional grounding for me. While the film shows her growing bond with the Beast, the pivotal moment where she chooses to stay feels abrupt and her internal conflict isn’t explored deeply enough. There’s little to suggest she feels a truly deep emotional attachment at that point; her decision seems more dictated by the plot’s needs than by a believable emotional shift.
But for all that, I still found myself drawn in. There’s something hypnotic about the way “Panna a Netvor” commits to its vision. Even when it falters, it does so with style—and I respect that dedication. It’s a version of Beauty and the Beast that doesn’t feel like it’s trying to please, but rather to haunt, to unsettle and to enchant. And in that, it succeeds beautifully.
“Beauty and the Beast” (1979) Trailer
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