Cold War **** / *****
Directed by: Paweł
Pawlikowski.
Written by: Paweł
Pawlikowski and Janusz Głowacki.
Starring: Joanna Kulig (Zula
Lichoń), Tomasz Kot (Wiktor Warski), Borys Szyc (Lech Kaczmarek), Agata Kulesza
(Irena Bielecka), Jeanne Balibar (Juliette), Cédric Kahn (Michel), Adam Woronowicz
(consul), Adam Ferency (minister), Adam Szyszkowski (camp guard)
Cold War
is a love story told in fragments over a 15 year period, from 1949-1964,
between two Polish musicians. Wiktor (Tomasz Kot), a conductor with a Polish
theatrical group specializing in traditional folk music. He is one of the
people auditioning young Poles from the countryside to be included in the
troop, when he first sets eyes on Zula (Joanna Kulig) – a beautiful blonde,
with a nice voice and undeniable star quality. The two are immediately drawn
together – and fall in love.
In
simpler times, this would a simpler story – but here it isn’t. Their group
attracts the attention of people higher up in Soviet Poland – and they are
“encouraged” to sing more about workers and the proletariat and how great
Stalin is – and of course, it’s not merely a suggestion. The group starts to
travel – and Wiktor decides that what needs to happen is that he and Zula
should flee across the border in Berlin to freedom. When Zula doesn’t show up,
he goes anyway. The rest of the film involves the few moments over the next
decade when the pair of lovers can come together. When they are alone, you can
feel their longing for the other. When they are together, things aren’t as rosy
either. They may well be happier apart – but they don’t know how to let go.
The film
is directed by Pawel Pawlikowski, who uses the same basic visual strategy that
worked so well in his last film – the Oscar winning Ida. That film was about a
novice nun, who before she is to take her final vows, is sent back to the
hometown she never knew to talk to an Aunt she didn’t know she had – and it’s
there she finds out what happened to her family in WWII. Both films are shot in
boxy 4:3 aspect ratio, in beautiful black and white – and both films often
leave large swaths of the frame above the character’s heads, unfilled. It’s a
visual strategy that keeps the characters boxed in – the character’s world is
closed off to them.
You would
think that a movie as deliberately fragmented as Cold War would be somehow less
complete than this one is, but Pawlikowski makes it work. He uses music to
great effect – it changes as the movie goes along, beginning with those folk
songs, moving to something akin to Russian propaganda anthems, and then moving
into jazz – sometimes jazzy versions of those earlier folk songs. In one
masterful scene – the best scene in the movie by far – even rock n’ roll comes
along – with a dance number by the luminous Kulig set to Rock Around the Clock,
which is easily one of the best sequences of the year. The music underlines the
emotions of everything, and pulls us through from one scene to the scene, one
year to the next – as the film pushes the characters together, only to wrench
them apart again.
That
Pawlikowski does all this in a svelte 88 minute runtime is kind of astonishing.
Many directors seem to think that longer films are somehow better – more
important and deeper. They can be, but sometimes a film like Cold War gets to
the heart of what it wants to say, and does so quickly. You don’t need a longer
runtime, when you get straight to the heart of it like Cold War does.
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