Autumn Spring may sound like the title of a film by the great Japanese director Yasujiro Ozu, but the resemblance ends there. Ozu's seasonally named films explored the relationships between generations, always paying an uncommon respect to older people. The Czech film Autumn Spring, on the other hand, doesn't know how to pay respect without a side order of patronization. Vlastimil Brodsky (Closely Watched Trains, the original Jacob The Liar) plays a retired opera chorus singer who spends his days pulling benign pranks with best friend Stanislav Zindulka; together, they pose as millionaires interested in buying mansions, and pretend to be subway inspectors in order to trick pretty fare-cheats out of kisses. They couldn't be more calculatedly adorable if Bil Keane had drawn them. Unfortunately, Brodsky has a big, bad wife (Stella Zázvorková) who doesn't like his rapscallion ways, and whose idea of fun is saving for funeral arrangements and visiting cemeteries. When Brodsky's irrepressible vivaciousness meets Zázvorková's immovable dourness, the film none too surprisingly sides with him. The winner of many 2001 Czech Lion Awards, Autumn Spring became a sentimental favorite in its native country, a fact that must be attributed entirely to its cast. In failing health, Brodsky committed suicide not long after the film's release, ending a career that spanned decades and included other pairings with lifelong friend Zázvorková. But while both do the best they can, the film strands them in a mud bath of sentiment, strained speechifying, and gloppy music. "Old men should be rich and respected," Brodsky says early in the film. Respect has seldom looked so much like condescension.