Ida (2013)

Polish born Pawel Pawlikowski started his career in England, directing documentaries for the BBC. Transitioning to narrative films, Pawlikowski’s second feature, Last Resort garnered critical praise and earned him BAFTA for Most Promising Newcomer. Continuing his trend of excellence, Pawlikowski’s most recent effort, Ida is a spectacularly beautiful meditation on cinematic form. Owing to some incredible cinematography by co-directors of photography Ryszard Lenczewski and Lukasz Zal, Ida captures the intense isolation of Jews in 1960’s Poland using one of the most visually-profound means possible.

Anna (a breakout performance by Agata Trzebuchowska) leads a quietly simple life as a novitiate nun, living in a convent in 1960’s Poland. Ready to commit herself to a life of meek servitude, Anna’s Mother Superior informs her of a living relative, an Aunt, whom she is to visit before taking her vows. Traveling, for the first time, to the proverbial “big city” Anna is confronted almost immediately with immorality and sin. Her Aunt Wanda (Agata Kulesza) has spent the two decades since the war as a hard-drinking, prosecutor-turned-judge, eager to forget her terrible past. Informing Anna of her true identity (Ida), and her Jewish heritage, Wanda recounts the story of their family before the German occupation. The two women embark on a solemn journey to discover the fate of Anna’s (Ida’s) parents, so that they may be given a proper burial. Confronted with stigma and haunted by Poland’s dark past, the women’s beliefs are rattled to their cores, and each must decide to forgive or to be consumed by hatred.

Pawel Pawlikowski is meticulous with his camera placement. He strives to ensure that every frame becomes a moving piece of art; like a series of elegant black and white photographs. Abstaining from the use of too many unnecessary camera movements, Pawlikowski places his camera, and stands back to capture the action. Using mainly editing to create movement, Pawlikowski can shift his audience’s attention to important aspects of the frame without announcing his presence, or the insertion of heavy-handed exposition. Pawlikowski seeks out the artistry in both architecture and nature to surround his characters with his chosen mood and era. Finding a stunningly built “underground” jazz club, Pawlikowski makes the most out of an interesting archway; contrasting the change in mood beneath it from a bustling dance club, into a small intimate setting.

Interesting, too, is what Pawlikowski chooses to leave out of his shots. When focusing on a character, he often frames out their entire body, choosing to shoot the disembodied heads from the neck up with his chosen background floating above them. Pawlikowski often completely neglects his character’s faces and expressions. Cutting out their heads as their bodies continue with the emotional arc of the scene, Pawlikowski proves that facial expressions are not fundamental to conveying feeling or mood. However, in doing so, Pawlikowski removes some of the audience’s emotional attachment to the characters. Much like the work of Robert Bresson, Pawlikowski tells his story in the quietude of the setting and in the jarring details of the plot. Quite unusual for such an emotionally significant story about European Jews living in the recent memories of the Holocaust, the audience’s strong inclinations toward pity are diverted to the feelings of emptiness and numb grief felt by the characters themselves. Pawlikowski does not use his film to recount the horrors of the Holocaust, but instead uses it as a platform to show how it effects those who were not far removed from the dark smudge on history, and the varying effects it has on their faith. Shying away from the confrontations with ex-German supporters, and graphic imagery, Ida is a sharply focused human drama.

Agata’s Kulesza and Trzebuchowska share wonderful performances that seem to be the opposite faces of the same coin. Kulesza as the sinful and depressed Aunt Wanda trying desperately to forget the horrible events of the Holocaust, and Trzebuchowska as the innocent and pure Ida/Anna longing to forgive the past and move on. Kulesza perfectly embodies her morose and dejected Wanda. A once powerful prosecutor, Wanda is now a shell of her former self, begging for an end to her torment. In her first acting role, Trzebuchowska is an equal embodiment of her virtuous and unsure Ida/Anna. Her nervous hands trembling when confronted with the “dangers” of life outside of the convent are a perfect visual cue for her inner struggle – but whether they are due to a supreme acting ability, or actual nervousness shall be left to audience interpretation/degree of disenchantment. While neither are given much actual dialogue, each are able to convey emotion and feeling through sorrowful looks and dead-eyed stares, and each hold a commanding screen presence irrespective of the lack of heart-wrenching lines or compelling monologues.

In what is perhaps the most beautiful and simplistic film of the year, Pawel Pawlikowski delivers a powerful and thought-provoking piece of art, through the resplendent Ida. With its captivating performances accentuated by simple yet exquisite cinematography, and profound direction, Ida is one of the best Polish films in decades.

Available on Amazon Prime