IN SEARCH FOR THE TRUTH; HISTORY ON THE BIG SCREEN
There are no strictly historical movies; in fact there are only movies which, by presenting an event from the past, reflect peoples’ knowledge of the event at a given time or its current interpretation. This statement may not be revealing but it is certainly true, and the questions about the relation between cinema and history and about the role of cinema as a vehicle for the memory of the past arise in the context of the August and September anniversaries.
One of the first decisions of the Polish Film Institute was to hold a competition for a documentary or a feature film script on the subject of the Warsaw uprising. Obviously, there is Kanal (1956) by Andrzej Wajda and a short on the uprising in Eroica (1957) by Andrzej Munk; nevertheless, over the last half a century we have not only witnessed improvements in the film-making techniques but there have occurred political changes as well: censorship has been removed, therefore, unlike Wajda, one does not have to resort to Aesopic language and instead of the meaningful look at the other side of the bank of the Vistula, one can openly show the Red Army awaiting the defeat of the insurgents. One is no longer bound by propaganda versions according to which it was in fact the Home Army’s purpose to suffer defeat and to bring about the destruction of the city, and although the debate about the purpose of the uprising and about the responsibility of its leaders still remains open, nobody casts doubt on the bravery of the insurgents; their conduct continues to stand for something pure and existing beyond politics and superficial patriotism. It is to these people, as well as to those persecuted by the Office of Security after the war, that one should do justice – hence, apart from the Warsaw Rising Museum, the idea of a film script. The competition was held under the honorary patronage of Andrzej Wajda, who during a debate reported by Maciej Gil (Warsaw, August 1994, “Kino”, 9/2006) and concerning a possible production of such a film, boldly stated that after all it does not have to be made. The audience does not feel the need to see it, while the idea itself is opportunistic (it is hard not to agree with the director, taking into account the so-called politics of history supported by the Minister of Culture and which claimed as its first victims the films Four Tank Men and the Dog and Captain Kloss, sent away onto the shelves of the television archive). Wajda and Munk, taking advantage of the October’56 thaw, raised the issue that was considered taboo, and they did so on the basis of the scripts by Jerzy Stefan Stawiński, a participant of the events in question. They made films about failures from which they wanted to draw conclusions. Kanal was made 12 years after the uprising, when its participants and the families of its victims were still alive – most of them felt uneasy about this dramatic cinema portrayal and the image of the insurgents dying not on the barricades but in gloomy sewers. Should the modern film about the uprising be more focused on the victory – not the military victory, obviously, but the moral one? This idea was suggested by another participant of the debate, Norman Davies, whose book, Rising’44, acknowledges, more than any other book on the subject, the importance of the September bid for independence, where the surrender was not a failure of the insurgents but a failure of a situation, over which they had no control. Should, therefore, another film be made or not? The verdict in the competition for the documentary has already been announced: the winner are Katarzyna Ostrowska and Tomasz Żylski, authors of the script People just like us, which features young volunteers working in the Warsaw Rising Museum. Sixty-two storylines were sent in for the competition, and providing the quality matches the quantity, there will be a lot to choose from. I can still remember the powerful impression Kanal made on when I saw it some years ago. Therefore, I am not sure what to expect from the future film on the uprising but I would concur with the conclusion of the debate: a movie should show people and history, not history and people.
How many years should pass before a significant, dramatic event can become a subject for a film without its authors risking accusations of opportunism, partiality or desecration of the memory of the victims. This question frequently arises in connection with the fifth anniversary of September 11 – the collapse of the Twin Towers in New York marked a symbolic beginning of the 21st century. If so, has the cinema entered the new century as well? Our cinemas still screen Flight 93 by Paul Greengrass and World Trade Center by Oliver Stone. Two films, is it few or a lot? In his article entitled Reopening the wounds (“Film”, 9/2006) Andrzej Zwaniecki points to a very scant presence of September 11 in cinema (or, broadly speaking, in the pop culture). Indeed, except for the notorious documentary Fahrenheit 9/11 by Michael Moor, an average cinemagoer would find it hard to think of some other example. It is because the WTC tragedy remains an event which is not only very recent but also unprecedented in the American history; the shock was caused both by the attack itself and by the fact that it was witnessed by millions of people who followed the events on the television screen. Maybe it is true that it is still too early for the catharsis to come, but it does not necessarily mean that, despite some opinions to the contrary, September 11 will remain a taboo subject. As pointed out by Zwaniecki, these two recent films premieres fit perfectly well into a certain pattern, a pattern characteristic for films which deal with significant events: movies produced in the first place tend to abide by the principle: do not desecrate what is held sacred. Such films do justice to their protagonists. It is therefore not surprising that Paul Greengrass, in his unique style – moving, but not exalted, decided to reconstruct the events which had taken place on board of the United Airlines plane, when its passengers managed to thwart terrorists’ plans (the plane was supposed to crush into the White House). It is one of the passengers that uttered the famous sentence: ‘Let’s roll.’ when speaking to his wife on the telephone for the last time. The heroic struggle in the face of an inevitable death and the passengers’ solidarity are one of the basic values that inform the memory of September 11. Firemen and policemen portrayed in the Stone’s movie display a similar attitude. Significantly enough, this film, too, focuses on real events – the experience of Will Jimeno and John McLoughlin, the policemen trapped under the rubble of the southern tower. It may seem intriguing that the director of the movie is the same person who has to his credit such films as Platoon and J.F.K. , and who is seen as a supporter of conspiracy theories. One might have expected that his film would be more controversial, critical e.g. of the ineptitude of the FBI and seeking to establish where responsibility for the tragic events lies. Stone himself judged, however, that the wounds had still not healed, and he made a film stripped of political allusions, a film about people, bravery and sacrifice. It is very probable, though, that it will be succeeded by a movie of a more accusatory nature which will express the courage not only of its authors but also of the audience ready to accept the bitter truth as well. Indeed, emphasizing only the bright, glorious aspect of events in the long run leads to excessive idealization, distortion and trivialization. Such a half-truth of the big screen will not help people understand past events; it will not purify and will not bring salvation. And the true heroes, both of Warsaw and New York, will always manage to emerge victorious after all.
Katarzyna Wajda
Translated by Marta Wójcik