Martin Scorsese Presents: Innocent Sorcerers

There was a brief and shiny moment during Poland’s tragic years of Communism when disillusioned youth could pursue Bohemianism. It did not last. Of course, many of those early 1960s musicians, artists, and would be drop-outs joined the Solidarity movement as fed-up adults. However, life still seems to have a lot of possibilities outside of politics for Bayzli and his associates in Andrzej Wajda’s Innocent Sorcerers, which screens as part of the Martin Scorsese Presents: Masterpieces of Polish Cinema film series that has made its way from the Film Society of Lincoln Center to the Denver’s SIE FilmCenter.

Bayzli (a.k.a. “Medicine Man”) is a sports doctor who moonlights as a jazz drummer, or vice versa. He takes nothing seriously, even including music, but least of all women. While doggedly avoiding his ostensive girlfriend Mirka, Bayzli reluctantly agrees to help his hipster buddy Edmund separate the Holly Golightly-esque Pelagia from her square boyfriend.

However, instead of steering her back into the club to wait for the exceedingly interested Edmund, the two somehow wind up back at the doctor’s flat. For the rest of the night, they engage in verbal parrying worthy of Eric Rohmer. Maybe it is significant, but perhaps it is all meaningless. Nonetheless, neither of them is ready to let go of the evening, despite their determined efforts to play it cool.

Although Sorcerers was Wajda’s immediate follow-up to his WWII trilogy, it is something of an anomaly in the director’s filmography. Unlike Man of Iron and Katyn, it almost never addresses political or historical controversies. However, there is a deep-seated skepticism informing the characters’ world views. They spend their nights partying and their days sleeping, because they clearly do not believe their contemporary society is offering anything worth sacrificing for.

Yet, the film is distinguished by a lightness of mood. On paper, this one-crazy-night story sounds largely interchangeable with any number of modern day indies, but Wajda, the young master, never lets the proceedings get too cynical, sentimental, or quirky. Rather, it all unfolds rather effortlessly and matter-of-factly.

One thing is certain, nobody could ever assemble a cast like this again, including co-screenwriter and future auteur Jerzy Skolimowski appearing as a punch drunk boxer. It would also be difficult to corral international fugitive Roman Polanski, who plays the bass-player leader of Bayzli’s band. Sadly, Zbigniew Cybulski (sometimes called “the Polish James Dean”) is no longer with us, but he brings plenty of manic method as Edmund. Likewise, the late and very great Krzysztof Komeda and the not quite as well known but still late and pretty great Andrzej Trzaskowski added some real deal jazz cred, essentially playing themselves.

In fact, Komeda’s score sounds fantastic. It swings hard, but still has a pensive character. You can real hear how he links early 1960s hardbop to the more open but emotional resonant music of his protégé, Tomasz Stanko. Indeed, it is a major reason why Innocent Sorcerers is such an enduring masterwork. You know it must be good, because it still managed to generate official flak for Wajda, even though he thought it was completely apolitical. Highly recommended, it screens this Monday (8/18) at the SIE FilmCenter, during the Denver run of the Masterpieces of Polish Cinema touring film series.

Martin Scorsese Presents: Jump

He is possibly a con man or a holy fool. Either way, the Stranger has a rather torturous relationship with reality. Nobody remembers him, yet he quickly finds himself enmeshed in the town’s Twin Peaks-ish intrigues. It will be a decidedly strange civic celebration when the Stranger teaches the town to dance the “Salto” in Tadeusz Konwicki’s Jump, which screens with newly translated subtitles and a restored print as a handpicked selection of Martin Scorsese Presents: Masterpieces of Polish Cinema, hosted by the Film Society of Lincoln Center.

Presumably, the man who might be named Kowalski or possibly Malinowski, has a good reasons for jumping off a speeding train. Barging in on his unsuspecting host, he claims to have known the older man when he lived in town way back when. The hospitable chap does not remember the Stranger, but he assumes this is due to the lingering effects of his wartime post-traumatic stress disorder. However, the Stranger’s paranoid ravings suggest his mental state is far more questionable than his host’s. Nevertheless, he sort of pulls it together when he is around Helena, his host’s temptress daughter (whom the Stranger makes a show of mistaking for her mother).

As he ambles through the town and the plot, the Stranger apparently cures sick children, freaks out a fortune teller, and underwhelms in his efforts to seduce Helena. Konwicki will reveal all in the closing minutes, but not before indulging in sorts of trippy weirdness. Jump (a.k.a. Salto) is indeed a product of the 1960’s and Konwicki certainly captures the tenor of the time.

Unfortunately, Jump also carries some rather unintentional and uncomfortable irony. In real life, Zbigniew Cybulski (often dubbed the Polish James Dean) tragically died making a leap from a moving train, much like the one that opens the film. Konwicki penned some brilliant screenplays and novels, but his Jump script is more of an invitation to play than a cohesive narrative. Still, there are bits and pieces that stick in the soul, particularly the old man who survived the war despite looking like Blumenfeld, a famous Jewish actor—and might indeed actually be Blumenfeld, as the Stranger insists.

Regardless of what fate had in store, Cybulski is perfect as the Stranger, somewhat resembling Marcello Mastroianni in 8½, when not raging like a madman at whomever and whatever. The large ensemble is definitely a hodge-podge, but Wlodzimierz Borunski taps into some deeply sad places as the man who claims not to be Blumenfeld.

Konwicki and cinematographer Kurt Weber craft some striking images and the overall tone of the film is considerably more playful than you would expect from a Warsaw Pact-era head trip. In fact, things get pleasantly funky when it comes time to do the Salto. Recommended for adventurous viewers, Jump screens tomorrow (2/9) at the Walter Reade Theater, as part of Martin Scorsese Presents: Masterpieces of Polish Cinema.

Transitions: Night Train

A large group of strangers pile in to a confined space, carrying with them considerable sexual tension. There is a murderer too. Indeed, all the classic noir elements are in place, but Jerzy Kawalerowicz gives them an unexpected twist in his 1959 classic Night Train, which screens as part of a sidebar tribute to actor Zbigniew Cybulski during the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s upcoming Transitions retrospective of recent Polish cinema.

A man named Jerzy is acting suspiciously. Donning black shades, he has bought up both tickets for a sleeper rather than mix with his fellow passengers. However, Marta, a distraught mystery woman, has already taken possession of one of his bunks. Tired of fussing, they decide to make the best of it, causing no end of gossip on their car. Of course, for most of the travelers, the number one topic of conversation is the fugitive wanted for murdering his wife. However, a married woman looking for a fling is far more interested in Jerzy, while Marta’s rejected lover Staszek is preoccupied with her.

Kawalerowicz effectively exploits the claustrophobic environment of the train, hurtling its way through the night to its Baltic resort destination. Frankly, it is hard to see how the crew navigated the gear and cameras through the narrow passageways thronged with extras. As a noir thriller, Kawalerowicz also pulls off some rather devious misdirection. However, the biggest shocker is its unambiguous critique of the mass mentality coupled with what certainly appears to be some Christian symbolism in its third act climax.

Given Kawalerowicz’s professed atheism (often reflected in his films), it is hard to judge his intentions in this sequence. In fact, he is something of a tricky filmmaker to take stock of in general. Basically falling in line with the Socialist authorities during the early Solidarity years, Kawalerowicz had a bit of trouble plying his craft in the years immediately following the collapse of Communism. That is the danger with playing it safe.

Cybulski is quite good as the overwrought Staszek, but he is definitely a supporting player in Train. This show really belongs to Leon Miemczyk and Lucyna Winnicka, who build up all kinds of chemistry as Jerzy and Marta, while closely guarding their secrets. Indeed, there is something almost poetic about their final scenes together.

Jan Laskowski’s gorgeous black-and-white cinematography creates the perfect atmosphere of mystery, further heightened by Andrzej Trzaskowski’s cool jazz soundtrack (riffing on Artie Shaw’s “Moon Rays”), featuring vibes, trumpet, and wordless vocalizing. Altogether, Train is a noir masterwork, hinting at things Kawalerowicz should have spoken louder or perhaps left unsaid. Now digitally restored, it screens tomorrow (9/9) and Wednesday (9/14) at the Walter Reade Theater as part of the FSLC’s Transitions retrospective.