MOVIE REVIEW : Communists Confounded in ‘Utz’ : Armin Mueller-Stahl is the oddball hero of the film, set in Soviet-run Czechoslovakia.

“Utz” (Nuart) has one of those oddball themes for a movie that turns out surprisingly well. Set in Soviet-controlled Czechoslovakia, it’s about an obsessed Meissen porcelain collector, the Baron von Utz (Armin Mueller-Stahl), who has the last laugh on the communist authorities. Based on the 1988 novel by Bruce Chatwin and directed by George Sluizer from a script by Hugh Whitemore, it’s an amusingly cultivated jaunt. The subject matter could have provided a richer experience but the filmmakers are probably right to treat it as they did. It’s a piffle with class.

The film (Times-rated Mature) has a complicated time scheme but the constant flashing back and forth isn’t done to confuse us with abstract artiness; it’s probably the least clunky way to tell the story. Utz, we discover, has just died but his multimillion-dollar Meissen collection, which is housed in the dingy one-bedroom apartment he shared with his housekeeper (Brenda Fricker), is nowhere to be found--to the consternation of the American art dealer (Peter Riegert) who had been counting on wrapping up a lucrative death-bed deal. (Actual Meissen masterpieces are photographed.)

The film moves into Utz’s past, into his childhood when he craved his first porcelain piece and then, in a winding fashion, brings us back to his final days. His history with his housekeeper is filled in for us; so is his adoration of porcine operatic divas. (They’re like Meissens in motion.) There are a few risible scenes with his contentious best friend of more than 40 years, Professor Orlik (Paul Scofield), a scientist whose specialty--obsession, really--is for the common housefly.

The obsessions of these people are so distinct from each other that at times the film seems quietly, deeply demented. (The performances are distinctively excellent too.) Utz doesn’t really collect his Meissens because of their value; he values them as totems of comfort. Mueller-Stahl underplays Utz’s fanaticism, which, of course, makes him seem more fanatic than ever. He brings the film a whiff of Old World grace, and a trace of danger too. Utz’s collection was created out of the misfortunes of all the peoples who had to flee Hitler and the Soviets. He accepts his role as beneficiary with a chilling calm.

Director Sluizer--if there is any justice, he should be remembered for his Dutch version of “The Vanishing” rather than his recent Hollywood version--doesn’t quite have the lightness of touch that he appears to be aiming for. But his pokey politesse has its charms and he understands Utz’s fascination with his beautiful porcelains, which are photographed so that they give off the bright radiance of flesh. When Utz handles his pieces, they seem almost sacramental. We can see why the Czech authorities don’t know what to make of the Baron--or his collection. His obsession is so rarefied, and yet so pure, that it confounds the totalitarian mentality.

It confounds us too, but pleasantly. He’s the oddest of oddball heroes in the movies right now.

‘Utz’

Armin Mueller-Stahl Baron von Utz

Brenda Fricker Marta

Peter Riegert Marius Fischer

Paul Scofield Dr. Vaclav Orlik

A First Run Features. Director George Sluizer. Producer John Goldschmidt. Executive producers William Sargent and Goldschmidt. Screenplay by Hugh Whitemore, based on the novel by Bruce Chatwin. Cinematographer Gerard Vandenberg. Editor Lin Friedman. Costumes Marie Frankova. Production design Karel Vacek. Running time: 1 hour, 54 minutes.

Times-rated Mature.