Archive for June, 2015

Looking for Ida

22 June 2015

ida_still_02

The first dialogue in Ida, Pavel Pawlikowski’s Oscar-winning film, comes about two-and-a-half minutes in, after a series of shots that establish the life of the convent where Ida is a novitiate in 1960s Poland. It runs like this:

MOTHER SUPERIOR: Her name is Wanda Gruz. She is your aunt. We wrote to her many times asking her to take you. But she never did.
IDA: Maybe she never got the letters?
MOTHER SUPERIOR: She did. Because finally she replied that she couldn’t come. You should meet her before you take your vows. She is your only living relative.
IDA: Do I have to, Mother?
MOTHER SUPERIOR: Yes, Anna. You will go and see her and stay there for as long as necessary.

And in this brief exchange we know almost as much as we need to about the dynamics of the plot. Ida is going on a journey, she doesn’t want to, but if she doesn’t do it she won’t be able to become a nun. And we also know that time doesn’t matter. So this isn’t going to be one of those stories where the plot is driven by a deadline.

Watching the film reminded me of a paradox I learnt in my short and unsuccessful career in the film business: you’re more likely to produce a film with global appeal by writing something that visits a small and intensely local world.

This was 25 years ago, and at the time the favoured example was Cinema Paradiso, which had become an international smash. But it doesn’t just apply to period films. The Bill Forsyth film, Gregory’s Girl, also fits this bill, set in the Scottish new town Cumbernauld, made largely with unknown actors, and released in the United States with subtitles because of alleged thickness of the Scottish accents. You can probably think of your own examples.

For Pawlikowski, the subject matter of Ida is perhaps an unusual choice. Despite his name, he has spent most of his film career working in Britain, having come to the country in his teens. He is as British as he is Polish,  although he returned to live in Warsaw recently following the death of his wife.

And this may be one of those films that could only be made by a culturally-connected outsider, who sees the place through fresh eyes, with new questions. And perhaps also the Poland in Ida is a country remembered: remembered as an idea, or remembered as an affect, from his childhood.

No spoilers, I hope, but the film’s impact also comes through its use of genre. It has the form of a road movie, as Ida and her aunt drive deep into rural Poland, and deep into the family’s past, to find the secret of how Ida came to be orphaned.  But in using genre it also plays against it.

The car, in ‘60s Poland, is a status symbol (the aunt is someone in the Party) and not many people have them, but it is also pretty clapped out.

Most road movies have at their heart a dream of freedom, albeit a dream that is often dashed. But watching Ida one knows from the start of the film that this is a journey back into a closed and claustrophobic world, a world which the aunt has kept at bay for twenty-plus years with alcohol.

ida_still_12But it’s not completely closed. The Poland of Ida is on the edge between an old Poland, still dominated by wartime secrets and wartime legacies, and a new one, seen best in the milieu of the jazz sub-plot, which represents a side to the Eastern Bloc countries that is rarely seen.

Pawlikowski’s portrait of it is every bit as affectionate as Josef Skvorecky’s neglected Czech novellas in The Bass Saxophone, along with his introductory essay. With the benefit of hindsight we also know that the Catholic church, which seemed to be part of the old Poland, turned out to be crucial in shaping the new one as well.

Anyway, I promised no spoilers, so I hope this is elliptical enough. It turns out that the freedoms that might be open to Ida are just another kind of prison. Having reluctantly gone exploring at the instruction of the Mother Superior, at the end she knows the place for the first time.

The stills are courtesy of the film-makers: there is a wonderful gallery here.

 

 

 

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Three rules for riding a sportive

8 June 2015
Image: London Revolution

Image: London Revolution

I spent a weekend in May riding the London Revolution, a bike ride that covers 190 miles in two days. It starts at Lea Valley Athletics Centre in north-east London, then heads south and west to Ascot on Day One, then heads north (west) and east and back to Lea Valley on Day Two. Last year it went anti-clockwise; people who did both thought the change was a good idea.

I’d been training for four months – in fact, I followed the London Revolution training plan pretty closely. As I got to within 20 miles of the finish on Day Two, I realised there might be only three rules to finishing a sportive, certainly if you’re not at the racing fitness end of the spectrum. They’re all about muscles.

  • Rule One: Prepare your muscles
  • Rule Two: Feed your muscles
  • Rule Three: Preserve your muscles.

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Making claims

6 June 2015
One of four surviving copies of the 1215 Magna Carta. This copy is one of two held at the British Library. It came from the collection of Sir Robert Cotton, who died in 1631. In 1731, a fire at Ashburnam House in Westminster, where his library was then housed, destroyed or damaged many of the rare manuscripts, which is why this copy is burnt.

One of four surviving copies of the 1215 Magna Carta, held at the British Library.

The long history of the Magna Carta turns out to have been a lucky accident, or at least that’s my reading of it from the 800th anniversary exhibition at the British Library. King John signed it to placate a powerful group of barons who had taken up arms against the king in response to his heavy taxation and arbitrary behaviour, and had captured London. Having signed, John immediately cried foul, telling his protector, Pope Innocent III, that he had signed under duress (shades of Charles I, who has his own part in this story.) Innocent promptly issued a Papal Bull annulling the Charter.

Popes being Popes in the Middle Ages, that should have finished it off, except that John died a year later, leaving the 9-year old Henry III on the throne and his advisers needing to appease the barons, with Britain still in a state of civil war. The advisers reissued the Charter in both 1216 and 1217, the second time as part of the peace treaty that ended the civil war.

But the real breakthrough came in 1225, when Henry, no longer a minor, issued the fourth version of the Magna Carta in exchange for the grant of taxes, which also created a connection between representation and taxation.Importantly, he also stated that he did this with his “spontaneous and free will”, and affixed the Royal Seal.

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