You’ve probably seen the screenshots. A girl with porcelain skin, wearing Victorian-white lace, staring into a mirror while a single drop of blood falls onto a daisy. It’s the kind of imagery that defines "aesthetic" on social media today, but the actual story behind Valerie and Her Week of Wonders is way more intense than a Pinterest board.
Honestly, it’s one of the weirdest, most beautiful movies ever made.
Released in 1970, this Czechoslovak New Wave gem—directed by Jaromil Jireš—isn't just a film. It’s a fever dream. If you’ve ever felt like your childhood ended in a single, confusing week where everything you trusted suddenly looked like a monster, you’ll get why this movie is still a massive deal.
What Actually Happens in Valerie and Her Week of Wonders?
Trying to explain the plot is kinda like trying to explain a dream you had after eating too much spicy food.
It starts with Valerie, a 13-year-old girl played by Jaroslava Schallerová. She’s living a quiet, almost fairytale life with her grandmother. Then, she gets her first period. That’s the "trigger." Suddenly, the world shifts. Her grandmother might be a vampire. A creepy priest is trying to seduce her. Her long-lost brother might be her boyfriend. Or maybe he’s her father? It’s a lot.
Basically, the film follows Valerie over seven days—her "week of wonders."
She finds a pair of magic earrings that were supposed to belong to her dead mother. These earrings seem to protect her from the grotesque adults surrounding her. There’s a guy called the Polecat who looks like a literal monster, and a priest named Gracián who is, frankly, much scarier because he uses religion to hide his predatory vibes.
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Why the "Vampire" Thing Isn't What You Think
When people hear "vampire movie," they think Twilight or Dracula. This is nothing like that. In Valerie and Her Week of Wonders, vampirism is a metaphor for how adults "drain" the youth and innocence of children.
The Polecat isn't just a monster. He’s a shapeshifter who represents the various faces of patriarchy. One minute he’s a constable, the next he’s a predator. Even Valerie’s grandmother becomes a sort of emotional vampire, obsessed with regaining her youth at the cost of Valerie’s safety.
It’s dark.
The film uses these gothic tropes to talk about how society views a girl the moment she "becomes a woman." Suddenly, she isn't a child to be protected; she’s prey.
The Real History: Nezval and the Surrealists
To understand the movie, you have to know about the book. Vítězslav Nezval wrote the original novel in 1935. He was a leader in the Czech Surrealist movement. He didn't want to write a "proper" story with a beginning, middle, and end. He wanted to capture the logic of the subconscious.
Nezval wrote it as a "black novel," a term used to describe gothic fiction that explores the dark side of the human psyche. When Jaromil Jireš adapted it in 1970, Czechoslovakia was under a heavy-handed Communist regime. The "Spring" of 1968 had been crushed.
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Making a film this weird was an act of rebellion.
It didn't follow the rules of "Socialist Realism," which demanded art be simple and pro-state. Instead, Jireš made something that felt like a secret. It’s why the film feels so dangerous—it was made by people who weren't supposed to be dreaming this loudly.
The Visuals: Why It Looks So Damn Good
You can't talk about Valerie and Her Week of Wonders without mentioning the cinematography by Jan Čuřík. It’s gauzy. It’s bright. It feels like every scene was filmed through a layer of silk.
- The Color Palette: White, red, and deep green.
- The Costumes: Designed by Ester Krumbachová (who also co-wrote the script). She was a legend in Czech cinema. The clothes are timeless, mixing Victorian lace with folk-horror elements.
- The Music: Luboš Fišer’s score is haunting. It uses bells, flutes, and choral arrangements that make you feel like you’re in a haunted cathedral.
The contrast between the "pretty" visuals and the "ugly" themes is the whole point. It’s a beautiful nightmare.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Ending
A lot of viewers finish the movie and ask, "Was it all a dream?"
That's the wrong question. In the world of Czech Surrealism, the line between "dream" and "reality" doesn't exist. The events are "real" because Valerie experiences them. The ending, where everyone gathers for a bizarre, happy picnic, isn't a literal happy ending. It’s a cycle.
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Valerie has survived her first encounter with the adult world. She’s kept her earrings. She’s kept her agency. But the monsters aren't gone; they’ve just put on their human masks again for the afternoon.
Why It Matters in 2026
We’re still obsessed with this movie because it captures a universal truth: growing up is terrifying.
Contemporary films like The Witch or Midsommar owe a huge debt to Valerie and Her Week of Wonders. It pioneered the "folk horror" aesthetic while staying deeply rooted in female psychology. It doesn't lecture the viewer. It just shows you what it feels like to be 13 and realize that the adults in charge have no idea what they're doing—or worse, that they don't have your best interests at heart.
Actionable Insights for Cinephiles
If you're planning to watch (or re-watch) this classic, here is how to actually get the most out of it:
- Watch the Criterion Collection version. The restoration is the only way to truly see the lighting and color the way Jireš intended. The muddy bootlegs on YouTube don't do it justice.
- Read the book. Nezval’s prose is even more disjointed and poetic than the film. It adds layers to the "brother/lover" subplot that the movie leaves ambiguous.
- Look for the symbols. Notice how often mirrors, pearls, and water appear. These are classic Freudian symbols of the self and the unconscious.
- Listen to the soundtrack separately. The music is a masterpiece of 20th-century avant-garde composition. It works as a standalone folk-horror ambient album.
Don't try to make it make sense. Just let the images wash over you. The "wonder" isn't in the logic; it's in the feeling of waking up and realizing the world is much bigger, and much stranger, than you were told.
Next Steps for Your Deep Dive:
- Research the Czechoslovak New Wave to understand the political context of the 1960s.
- Look up the work of Ester Krumbachová, specifically Daisies (1966), to see more of the era's radical feminine energy.
- Explore the Teigen and Toyen art movements, which heavily influenced the film's surrealist aesthetic.
By looking at these connections, you'll see that Valerie wasn't just a girl in a movie—she was the face of a cultural explosion that still resonates in art and fashion today.