Katyn

Katyn was nominated for the 2008 Best Foreign Language Film Oscar. From Film Forum’s brochure: “The title of the film is the forest where the Soviets secretly murdered 15,000 Polish officers, intellectuals and professionals over a 3-day period in 1940 (Wajda’s father among them). Stalin’s purpose was to destroy those elements of the population who would be most resistant to Soviet control following WWII. For decades the truth was obfuscated, with the Nazis often blamed for the atrocity. Half a century later, in 1990, Soviet President Mikhail Gorbachev admitted his nation’s responsibility.”

In Poland the film has been a runaway hit.

At least several U.S. critics have noted, and I concur, that since Wajda is working with such personal material that it’s kind of surprising that it’s not really up there on the screen. The personal connection that is. But don’t get me (or them) wrong…the filmmaker is a master. (I’m looking forward to catching his 1982 film Danton finally about to come out on DVD. At the moment only Man of Marble exists in Netflix’s library and it currently lives in my Queue.) Katyn, as it turns out, was my first Wajda film and I found his work and team’s work exceptional. All technical aspects of this film are of the highest quality and composer Krzystof Penderecki’s score is hauntingly memorable. In addition there is effective use of archival news footage blended in seamlessly.

Sentimentality is absent from most of the film helping to give it a very you are there feeling…no time to comment on what’s happened or happening with the feeling that you’re watching events as they actually happen. A company of expert actors add to this specific aspect, they all feel correct and real. The lead actors include: Maya Ostaszewska, Artur Zmijewski, Andrzej Chyra, and Jan Englert. Two memorable set pieces among scores of them involve a poignant scene between two young lovers avoiding authorities, and another about a woman sacrificing her own future attempting to have her brother’s tombstone dated correctly.

The final, horrifyingly grisly, 10-minute sequence, provided by the reading of a diary, packs a wallop. The wallop part largely comes as a surprise because you’ve been hearing about what it depicts for a good deal of the film. As the credits come up you’re sitting amongst a stunned, silent audience. It’s not a piece of filmmaking you’re bound to forget anytime soon…

                                                      Jim Baldassare