Movie Review - "Tragedy not Easily Forgotten - A Review of Andrezj Wadja’s "Katyn"
In Poland, the release of an Andrzej Wajda film is a major cultural event. In America, most moviegoers haven’t so much as heard his name. But they would do will to sit up and take notice when one of modern cinema’s most impressive talents sees fit to return to the director’s chair. Katyn, Wajda’s, first film in five years, lives up to the expectations set by his earlier works. Although not perfect, Katyn remains thought provoking and harrowing until the credits roll.
The film picks up in 1940 as Polish refugees converge upon a bridge. With the Germans enacting a reign of terror in the East and the Russians in the West, the frightened masses heading in both directions hope that they will fair on the other side. Anna (Maja Ostaszewska), one of a few protagonists, along with her young daughter, is headed in the latter direction to find her husband Andrzej (Artur Zmijewski), an officer in the Polish military, and convince him to flee with her. Alas, he feels bound by duty to stay with his fellow POWs. He cannot even begin to suspect the fate that the Soviets have in store for him: an unceremonious execution along with his compatriots in the forest from which the film derives its name.
The remainder of the film deals with the repercussions of this massacre. The women and children left without their husbands and fathers. It is at times difficult to keep track of and care about the characters that are shifted to the forefront of the film for its second half, especially given the fact that they were only given perfunctory introductions earlier in the film. That said, Anna guarantees strong emotional investment due to the audiences’ familiarity with her character from earlier on. All of the various subplots are tied together by their struggle to come to terms with the travesty in Katyn. Besides the obvious feelings of loss associated with losing loved ones, they are forced to contend with a refusal on the part of the Soviet Union (who have maintained their authoritarian presence in Poland after the war) to own up to their actions. Instead, they use a mixture of propaganda and intimidation to make it appear as if the Germans were responsible. Naturally, this is not very convincing to the individuals who were intimately connected to the victims. In a cynical testament to human nature, they are often unsympathetic to each other’s suffering. In one of the film’s many subplots, a soldier who was “fortunate” enough to be offered the opportunity to swear allegiance to the Soviet military rather than face execution, is driven to a tragic act of desperation by another character’s insensitive reproach. Meanwhile, the younger generation, as represented by another supporting character, also bear the burden of their parent’s death.
All of the subplots culminate in a flashback to the Katyn massacre, a scene that embodies the film perfectly. In the absence of heavy-handed commentary; the viewer is simply left to sit back and reflect on the horror that he has just witnessed, without so much as musical cues to remind him that he is watching a movie. This matter-of-fact, documentary-like approach is part of what makes Katyn so unsettling and so unique. It is very rare in modern cinema for a director to remain so disengaged from the subject matter. This feeling of detachment is especially noteworthy in light of Wadja’s personal connection to the events portrayed in the film.
The film picks up in 1940 as Polish refugees converge upon a bridge. With the Germans enacting a reign of terror in the East and the Russians in the West, the frightened masses heading in both directions hope that they will fair on the other side. Anna (Maja Ostaszewska), one of a few protagonists, along with her young daughter, is headed in the latter direction to find her husband Andrzej (Artur Zmijewski), an officer in the Polish military, and convince him to flee with her. Alas, he feels bound by duty to stay with his fellow POWs. He cannot even begin to suspect the fate that the Soviets have in store for him: an unceremonious execution along with his compatriots in the forest from which the film derives its name.
The remainder of the film deals with the repercussions of this massacre. The women and children left without their husbands and fathers. It is at times difficult to keep track of and care about the characters that are shifted to the forefront of the film for its second half, especially given the fact that they were only given perfunctory introductions earlier in the film. That said, Anna guarantees strong emotional investment due to the audiences’ familiarity with her character from earlier on. All of the various subplots are tied together by their struggle to come to terms with the travesty in Katyn. Besides the obvious feelings of loss associated with losing loved ones, they are forced to contend with a refusal on the part of the Soviet Union (who have maintained their authoritarian presence in Poland after the war) to own up to their actions. Instead, they use a mixture of propaganda and intimidation to make it appear as if the Germans were responsible. Naturally, this is not very convincing to the individuals who were intimately connected to the victims. In a cynical testament to human nature, they are often unsympathetic to each other’s suffering. In one of the film’s many subplots, a soldier who was “fortunate” enough to be offered the opportunity to swear allegiance to the Soviet military rather than face execution, is driven to a tragic act of desperation by another character’s insensitive reproach. Meanwhile, the younger generation, as represented by another supporting character, also bear the burden of their parent’s death.
All of the subplots culminate in a flashback to the Katyn massacre, a scene that embodies the film perfectly. In the absence of heavy-handed commentary; the viewer is simply left to sit back and reflect on the horror that he has just witnessed, without so much as musical cues to remind him that he is watching a movie. This matter-of-fact, documentary-like approach is part of what makes Katyn so unsettling and so unique. It is very rare in modern cinema for a director to remain so disengaged from the subject matter. This feeling of detachment is especially noteworthy in light of Wadja’s personal connection to the events portrayed in the film.