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.
