Category: Narrative

By Joe Bendel. So deeply ingrained are the images of a devastated Poland during WWII and the Soviet era, many Americans forget the millennia-old country was one of the great European powers during the Middle Ages. Poland’s Casimir III was the first crown head of Europe to grant legal protection to Jewish subjects. It was also one of the few European countries untouched by the Black Death, perhaps the result of good national karma. The glory of Medieval Poland is evoked in Kamil Polak’s visually arresting animated short The Lost Town of Świteź (trailer above), which screens this Saturday as part of the shorts program during the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s Transitions retrospective of recent Polish cinema.

Based on Adam Mickiewicz’s epic poem, one of many celebrating Poland’s folklore, Town begins on the proverbial dark and stormy night. A nineteenth century nobleman’s carriage is waylaid by the inclement weather. Far from a sanctuary, this forest appears to be enchanted. Seeking refuge from spectral horse-soldiers, the man finds himself transported to the mythic city of Świteź, where he witnesses its destruction at the hands of the hordes pursuing him. As the city faithful send up orisons to heaven, a choir of angels comes down to bear witness to man’s carnage (and perhaps the salvation of the next life).

Combining specially commissioned oil paintings, rendered in a style suggestive of great Polish artists like Józef Chełmoński and Aleksander Gierymski, with state of the art computer animation, Town has a rich, ethereal look unlike any in recent animation. Some enterprising film festival ought to program it with Lech Majewski’s The Mill and the Cross, which in many ways is the nearest comparable film.

Perhaps though, what is most striking about Town is the unapologetically powerful Christian imagery. Completely without irony, Polak’s film conveys an apocalyptic Christian vision with far greater overwhelming immediacy than anything attempted in recent evangelical cinema. Yet it can also be enjoyed simply as a Slavonic variant on the Atlantis archetype. The film is also perfectly scored by Irina Bogdanovich, whose compositions unambiguously suggest the Middle Ages, but with a hint of romanticism.

Town truly proves animation can be both a form of entertainment as well as high art. Best appreciated on the big screen, Polak will present his painterly canvas in-person when Town screens this Saturday (9/10) at the Walter Reade Theater, as part of Transition’s shorts block. It will also screen again in New York later in the month (9/23) at the 2011 NYC Short Film Festival as part of program A.

Posted on September 8th, 2011 at 3:02pm.

By Joe Bendel. Punk rock is supposed to be subversive. For Communist Poland poised on the brink of Martial Law, it was downright revolutionary, in spades. Yet, young Janek and his friends were not trying to be political, and this is exactly why their music is so threatening in Jacek Borcuch’s All That I Love (trailer above), Poland’s most recent submission for official foreign language Academy Award consideration, which screens this Saturday as part of the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s new retrospective, Transitions: Recent Polish Cinema.

Janek’s brother also plays in his hardcore punk band, All That I Love, affectionately known as ATIL for short. His mother is a nurse, which is all fine and good, but his father is a mid-level officer in the Polish Navy. Ordinarily this is a good thing, leading to a few modest perks for the family. However, when courting Basia Martyniak, the very cute daughter of Solidarity organizers, it is not so hot. The rebellious nature of his music does not cut much ice with the Martyniaks either, but Basia is impressed.

Though not necessarily impressed himself, Janek’s father is still supportive enough to arrange rehearsal space on the local base. Clearly the naval captain is not the typical Communist apparatchik, a fact not lost on Sokołowski, the neighborhood Party snitch. Resenting the boys’ ill-concealed interest in his cougarish wife, Sokołowski targets them where it will hurt the most—their music.

Throughout the film, Borcuch juggles a number of disparate elements quite sure-handedly, including a rather tender coming-of-age romance and some paint-peeling punk, based on the music of the era-appropriate Polish band WC. It is also a story of human tragedy, directly resulting from an inherently oppressive political ideology. Yet part of the irony of ATIL is that Janek’s family will probably be far better off in the new Poland that rises from the ashes of Communism for having gone through their tribulations in the film. Unfortunately, viewers can surmise the short term will be rather long and difficult for them in the December of 1981.

There is no denying the charismatic appeal of Borcuch’s teen-aged leads. Mateusz Kościukiewicz’s Janek could have walked out of Tom Hanks’ That Thing You Do into Jaruzelski’s police state, while as Basia, Olga Frycz resembles a considerably younger and warmer Nicole Kidman. Yet, arguably Andrzej Chrya serves as the lynchpin of the film, investing Janek’s father with humanity and integrity that will first challenge and then reconfirm all our assumptions of Poland’s Communist military.

With convincing period detail, Elwira Pluta’s design team faithfully recreates the bleak look of Martial Law era Poland, when Brutalist-style Soviet housing projects were considered desirable. Nevertheless, despite the apparent downer ending mandated by history, ATIL is a surprisingly uplifting film, deriving optimism from the spirit of its characters.  An excellent kick-off for the FSLC’s Transitions series, ATIL screens this Saturday (9/10) and next Thursday (9/15) at the Walter Reade Theater.

Posted on September 7th, 2011 at 10:15am.

By Joe Bendel. It is a provocative, ‘what if’ question. Had the United States forcefully backed the British government during the Suez Crisis, how would history be different? Indeed, the Soviet backed Nasser’s media victory is often considered a precipitating factor contributing to the overthrow of the pro-western Hashemite monarchy in Iraq, but everything turned out okay there in the long run, right? Instead America undercut her closest ally to curry favor with the UN and the independent Arab States. How well did that work, again? A watershed moment for the collective British psyche, the Suez Crisis supplies the backdrop for the newsroom drama The Hour, which premieres on BBC America this Wednesday as the inaugural selection of the network’s Dramaville showcase of British dramatic limited series, hosted by Luther’s Idris Elba.

Bel Rowley and longtime platonic friend Freddie Lyon consider themselves the future of British journalism, wasted in the BBC’s newsreel department. Unfortunately, Lyon is a bit too tightly wound for his own good. When the call comes to work on the network’s new weekly newsmagazine, The Hour, Rowley gets the producer job he covets. Nearly chucking away his career out of resentment, Lyon reluctantly accepts an unglamorous position as the home affairs correspondent. He might be brilliant, but his personal cold war with Hector Madden, the show’s presenter, complicates Rowley’s position. Much like William Hurt in Broadcast News, he is not gifted at thinking on his feet during an interview segment. However, the married Madden’s ambitions are considerable and they include Rowley.

Initially, the show-within-the-show flounders, but when the Suez ignites, they hit their stride. Suddenly questions of censorship are raised when the Eden government starts invoking the gag rule for issues under debate in parliament. To that end, Angus McCain, an Eden advisor with a rather vague portfolio, starts haunting the BBC offices, creeping out the staff with his oiliness. Shocking as it might sound, it turns out many of the journalists have their own agendas as well.

For most of the first three episodes, The Hour hints at a conspiracy within the Eden government, possibly involving the murder of Ruth Elms, Lyon’s childhood friend of aristocratic lineage. However, two events occur in episode four that cloud the show’s ideological implications, making it richer and more complex: the Soviets invade Hungary and we learn they also have a mole operating within the BBC. Just what sort of Cold War morality play The Hour will ultimately become is not at all certain at the shows mid-point, but that ambiguity is not necessarily a bad thing.

Many critics might be tempted to dub the show Mad Men meets Smiley’s People. Indeed, the show has a well crafted 1950’s period look and there is certainly a good deal of alcohol being consumed. The moody jazz-influence score also nicely heightens the noir atmosphere. Continue reading The BBC Plays Itself: LFM Reviews The Hour