Daisies (1966)

Daisies is the kind of movie that feels less like a story you follow and more like a firecracker you experience—an exuberant, rule-breaking burst of cinema that’s still startlingly alive decades later. Věra Chytilová turns two teenage pranksters into a gleefully anarchic force, using their mischief to conjure a wickedly funny, politically sharp, and quietly furious satire about a world that’s already gone rotten. The film’s rapid shifts in color, texture, and rhythm are pure visual jazz: playful one moment, abrasive the next, always inventive, always in motion, and never content to behave. It won’t be for everyone—if you need neat plot logic and conventional “likable” characters, it may feel like a dare—but if you’re open to audacity, feminist provocation, and comedy with teeth, Daisies is a bracing reminder of what movies can do when they refuse to sit still.

Daisies is trying to be a gleefully anarchic, feminist-tinged middle finger to a “spoiled” world, using two young women’s escalating pranks as satire rather than a conventional story. If you need a plot that builds logically, characters you can emotionally latch onto, or comedy that reliably lands, this can feel like a noisy art experiment—lots of deliberate excess, repetition, and symbolism that may read as empty instead of sharp. The editing and visual inventiveness are the real draw: it’s playful, audacious, and often striking in a way that still feels rebellious. Watch it if you’re in the mood for avant-garde provocation and don’t mind being challenged (or irritated); skip it if you want coherent narrative satisfaction or clear, pointed social commentary.