Review of Ashes and Diamonds (1958) by Jake R — 25 Nov 2008

Seemingly a reference to its own majestic status as one of the best European films of all time, this lives up to its reputation in a way all the would-be intellectual French and Italian directors peddling their rubbish out in the 1960s and '70s could only dream of. It also adds to Poland's materialisitically tiny but artistically significant cinematic output.

Valiantly defying the wrath of the enormous Soviet Union, directorAndrzej Wajda crafted a bitter and sarcastic comment to Communism and its strangulation and subjugation on a country who had it enforced on them. With various references to the untrustworthiness of Soviet officials and the Warsaw Uprising, ignored totally by the neighbouring Red Army and resposible for the almost total devastation of the city, 'Ashes and Diamonds' holds no praises for its new masters.

Characters are more symbolic than personal. Adam Pawlikowski's Andrzej is the emotionless and amoral loyalist, fighting for no reason beyond relieving his own boredom, empty of all enthusiasm for living. But it's Zbigniew Cybulski's Maciek who becomes the film's most iconic aspect. Clad in geeky sunglasses, leather jacket and jeans he is Poland's militant youth, generations of young kids forced to grow up before their bodies or souls could. He's the archetypal hotheat, happy to kill anyone who attempts to oppress him or his country, yet finding nothing worth protecting in his own people. And yet there often glimmers a fraction of hope that if somehow the whole world could just chill then they'd find a way to get along. All the more fitting he should die for his naivety and desperation to be an individual.

The symbolism is astute and terse but goes in to overload come the end, when the movie is reduced to, or constructed of, mytholigical imagery. But one can't help but empathise with the Polish, at the centre of horrific crimes against human rights for the majority of the 20th century. For them to speak out defiantly is enough to praise them, but for them to do it in such artistically accomplished ways confirms the suggestion of their unique prowess and ability to contribute to larger world culture.

At a brisk 98 minutes and with barely a whisper of action the film manages to fly by. Partly because of the satirical attempts of comedy, but mostly because of the strength of the convictions in its actions and the subtlety in its characters, and in the professionalism of the actors. An extraordinary film for all kinds of reasons, and a sad and angry growl about the entire state of affairs of the period.