Zimna wojna, 2018 (18+)."Cold War" ("Winter War")
(C) This is a story of impossible love in an impossible time. They meet in the ruins of post-war Poland. Different origins and dissimilar temperaments - it seems that they are completely incompatible. And yet they can't get away from each other. Over the years, they part and meet again and again - in Berlin, Yugoslavia and Paris ... Politics, vicissitudes of fate and their own shortcomings stand in the way of their love, but nothing can break the connection between two hearts.
"Cold War". 2018. Poland, France, Great Britain Slogan “Love has no borders” Director #Pavel_Pavlikovsky Screenplay #Pavel_Pavlikovsky, #Janusz_Głowacki, #Piotr_Borkowski Camera #Lukash_Zal
“I look at the interlocutor and he breaks up into ugly moving lips, skin pores, unnecessary gestures. Words fall like a well. I can agree and even insert remarks into the conversation, but you are not here ... "
@GalSielence
2 years ago, I was returning from the cinema after Pavel Pawlikowski's Cold War, almost at midnight, home, through the dark November slippery streets, full of twitching lamplight, watching ragged clouds that previously might have seemed either romantic and strangely promising what something, albeit a harsh, but real future, exciting the blood with adrenaline, but today turned out to be the scenery in an incomprehensible terrible dream, passing by the Catholic Cathedral, where I secretly buried a small dog with Michel, wrapped with dandy conceited self-admiration in a Stussy T-shirt, which died from the plague, and which the cathedral old women did not allow us to bury; was returning after the film "Cold War" I saw all the futility of this, all the futility of millions of masses of this whole world, the meaninglessness of dreams, the "wiring" of ancient, as if promising something, Cathedrals, and suffocation from a scarf - even tear it off yourself, at least not, he will not lag behind with his hopelessness, which "does not even have a name" (c), as would say Jules-Amede Barbe d'Oreville, but only a pretentious label.
It would seem that Remarque “cancelled” the war, he completely revealed both its essence and its vile mug, and the Nuremberg trials killed and overthrew fascism into contempt, and we are clean and free, but what did all these terrible shadows of the Inquisition and the Hundred Years War shout to me about , Resistance and the Gestapo, terrible buildings hanging with a threat from the ancient tear-stained and tortured houses over the cold winter streets, and what did I so want to never know more about, but for some reason I knew ?!
When was it that cinema suddenly spoke to us in the language of our own truth, in our language, without coming up with a bunch of embarrassed antics? Pavel Pawlikovsky uses a very rare technique, showing that the world is ending, and we have come to its very border, as in the book "13th Floor", and we don't know what's next? But whether it’s true or not, having visited the cinema for the first time in many years, because I had watched everything beautifully on the Web before, I realized that after this film the real world completely collapsed, and we live in its virtual simulation.
Do not give away your reality, even if the simulacrum came to you with a bombardment
And it turned out that death was not overcome, and nothing ended, because nothing never ends, and while Love is impossible in this world, while it is doomed to wander in it between the gaze of the Virgin in a collapsed temple and the disgusting ruins of all blood-soaked films like " Olga Gepnarova" or "Loneliness on the Web" or "When I'm Dead and White", their ruins, as if painted with prison dark green paint of water closets that triumphed over Beauty, because they remember her agony - even a cold and burning sip of whiskey on a hurricane wind and a million reconciliations with the world and the departed saints (and all the dead saints) on Halloween will never cancel this tragedy of Love sentenced to death by an insignificant world, a world that is not worth it, because this world, like our whole life, is collapsing , he is a set, and he exposes Nothing under him which was the last shots of the film "Cold War".
"Cold War" is amazing because there is nothing superfluous in it: there is no unnecessary reflection, as in "Young Godard" or "Dovlatov" - if you want to understand this trio of genre leaders about the devastating consequences of totalitarianism and the "Cold War", then watch it , but forget about them; there is no emptiness itself in it, as in "Synonyms", and there is nothing monumental and impressive in it, as in the film "East-West", filmed almost on the same topic - no, it post-postmodernist pushed them all into Non-Being.
Black and white background, music, shadows, frozen photographs do not seem like noir romance or black visionary - this film is a tarantella - from the very beginning, from the piper, - until the end, when the tarantella turns into your personal saraband of the November tasteless wind , in the treacherous and pathetic regret of the building of the Catholic Church that it does not save, in the betrayal of flowers that have lost their fragrance and become more terrible than the artificial and meaningless decorations in your home - shows us that the cold war is still colder than ice, and it not finished, it continues in the soul of each of us.
The entry of Soviet troops into Czechoslovakia, the end of the Prague Spring
There are 3 moments in the film when a lump really rolls up to the throat: this is the piper at the very beginning and the folk song "Two Hearts, Cheri Eyes", which is performed by Zula in a Parisian cafe.
When you walk in your city, take a closer look at it. To houses and walls, to secret courtyards and playgrounds, and you will see and hear the tragedies written in the stones of these places.
Here, beloved ones died, unable to withstand the philistine persecution, and here the whole court poisoned the boy, and he committed suicide. Here, a beautiful elderly woman who gave her life to the daily service of good, taking care of her children and grandchildren, was surrounded by the indifference and cruelty of her loved ones.
All this is written not only by God in the Book of Life, no, all this can be read by an ordinary person, simply by opening the mind and heart.
(с) Deborah Coleman
But against the background of this holy simplicity, which Cold War propaganda stole like a devil an angelic gift and turned into something monstrous and pompous, the very love of the main characters seems to be a revived photograph from the most expensive family album of black and white years, which no longer exists, and even the grave, where these people went, was worn out, but we didn’t deserve even such peace in the spirit of everyday vulgar scoffing of the mass media and social networks, and therefore the film plunges us into hell as if into a bottomless abyss with its final scene.
This film is watched by people born during the end of the political Cold War, born under Pink Floyd on the ruins of all the Berlin "walls" of the world, and they will watch it in the same cinemas where their parents went through their moral formation, or killing the slave inside themselves, or freeing their fascist instincts. And the children of both those and others today are forced to go through their existential formation anew, and they have nothing to rely on.
There are no teachers, but there is eternal November, eternal winter, eternal loneliness in the network on the icy streets of cities, where we all more than tasted our orphan's lot.
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