The Representation of Stalinism in Polish Cinema

Abstract

Focusing on past has been almost natural in Polish cinema. Like Central European cinema in general, it has familiarized viewers with its political contexts and messages: presentation of Central Europeans as victims of history, and a dark vision of history. In novel political situation after 1989 in Central Europe one could expect the return of repressed in cinema and other art forms, return of history, and a certain boldness in a critical reappraisal of not-so-distant past. The thorough transition from communism to democracy appears impossible without an exhaustive understanding of past. 1 Today, however, political metaphors and symbols that were prevalent before 1989 no longer dominate content of in Poland. In a time of considerable political openness, in which (almost) everything can be said candidly, double talk and subversive messages provided by old Polish cinema are no longer needed. Several openly political films, made at beginning of 1990s, referred to recent Polish history, but reflected immorality and corruption in 1980s terms-they were both commercial and artistic failures. Some attempts at reconstruction of events experienced under martial law never received critical or public acclaim they deserved. Kazimierz Kutz's passionate film about tragedy at Wujek coal-mine,Smierc jak kromka chleba (Death as a Slice of Bread, 1994), constitutes just one example of political work that went largely unnoticed. The Polish audience and critics that once favoured political now seem to have grown tired of politics, history and martyrology. In spite of that, featuring Polish recent history which attempt to recover long-suppressed levels of national memory do exist in post-1989 Polish cinema. Among them are dealing with complex Polish-Jewish relations2 and works portraying Stalinist past. In Polish history, Stalinism is a term which refers to postwar period beginning in 1949 and ending in October 1956. During that time, one-party rule and strict Soviet control of all aspects of Polish life created a small totalitarian replica of Soviet state. The Polish communist leader, Boleslaw Bierut, was a faithful follower of Stalin: more accurately, his obedient political puppet. Due to strict political censorship, question of legacy of Polish Stalinism remained virtually untouched until mid-1970s.3 The process of unveiling Stalinist years started in Polish as well as in Hungarian cinema in late 1970s and was followed by 1980s perestroika films in Russia. Earlier, a group of distinguished made in former Czechoslovakia had dealt with this problem: Jaromir Jireg's Zert (The Joke, 1968), Jifi Menzel's Skrivdnci na nitich (Larks on a String, 1969) and Vojtech Jasny's Vsichni dobri rodaci (All My Good Countrymen, 1969). Hungarian film-makers, in particular, extensively contributed to this genre. In late 1970s they became quite politically blunt and moved out of safer territory of Aesopian language. The denunciation of Stalinism was reflected in such critically acclaimed as Peter Bacs6's A tanu (The Witness, released in 1978 after being shelved for almost nine years), Andris Kovacs's Menezgazda (The Stud Farm, 1978), Pal GAbor's Angi Vera (1978), and Marta Meszdros' Naplo gyermekeimnek (Diary For My Children, 1982) and Naplo szerelmeimnek (Diary For My Loves, 1987). Karoly Makk's Egymasra nezve (Another Way, 1982) and Peter Gothar's Megall az ido (Time Stands Still, 1981) observes that relative openness of Hungarians regime allowed filmmakers to explore Stalinist period in Hungarian history. The number of these observes that relative openness of their reception in Hungarian prompts Paul to' comment allowed filmmakers to explore Soviet cinema began at last to period in Hungarian history. The number back layers of restriction had so long buried their reception in Hungary prompts Paul to comment that Ironically, just when Soviet cinema began at last to peel back layers of restriction that had so long buried past, Hungarian moviegoers considered Stalinism old hat. …