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.

Halloween Revival: Rosemary’s Baby

Ever feel uncomfortable on the Upper Westside? Maybe it’s all the Satanists on CPW. Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby (trailer here) might be the all-time classic Upper Westside film, but it is far from a valentine to the Manhattan neighborhood. Forty years after its initial release, it still ranks as one of the great fright films. Starting today (Halloween), Film Forum celebrates Rosemary’s anniversary with a weeklong screening of a new 35M print of Polanski’s classic.

Rosemary is probably Polanki’s most subtle and insidious directorial work. The horrors we don’t see are scary as all get out. Unlike contemporary splatter fests, Polanski masterfully plants unsettling seeds which get under the audience’s skin to sprout in our imagination.

Polanski sets the disconcerting tone from the beginning, as Rosemary and Guy Woodehouse tour what will become their new apartment. The former tenant died rather suddenly, making this spacious rent-controlled beauty available at relatively affordable terms. If you are familiar with the distorted New York real estate market, you will understand why the Woodehouses snap it up, ignoring the early clues Polanski drops for us. For some reason, the recently deceased blockaded one of her closets with a heavy armoire. We also glimpse a fragment of an unfinished document which reads: “I can no longer associate myself . . .”

Rosemary and Guy, played by the seemingly mismatched but surprisingly credible Mia Farrow and John Cassavetes, seem to subscribe to very different values. Guy professes atheism and expresses scorn for the Catholic Church. Rosemary bitterly clings to her religion. She yearns for children—Guy, not so much. These are the sort of differences that are often rationalized away, but persist, causing deep-seated fissures between people. It is such fundamental differences between the Woodehouses that their weird neighbors, Minnie and Roman Castevet exploit for their evil purposes.

It seems Rosemary is not the only one interested in seeing her pregnant. When Guy finally agrees, what starts as a romantic evening descends into the realm of nightmare, with Rosemary hallucinating a ravaging by Old Scratch himself, as Guy leers on. In a famous line, she cries out “this is not a dream, this is really happening.” Though alienated and increasingly isolated during a difficult pregnancy, the audience maintains reasonable confidence in Rosemary’s point of view. Polanski has already set down too many markers for us to lose our way—problematizing reality is not a game he is looking to play here.

In fact, Rosemary is pretty unique in the genre, holding up quite well in retrospect. Though a little over two hours, Polanski’s story-telling is quite economically, with all the pieces fitting together snugly. The stately but foreboding Dakota (a.k.a. the Bramford) apartment building makes quite an eerie backdrop. The performances have aged well too, particularly Oscar winner Ruth Gordon as the funny-scary Minnie Castevet and Sidney Blackmer as the ingratiatingly evil Roman.

Rosemary is also another fine collaboration between Polanski and Polish jazz musician and film composer Krzysztof Komeda. Sadly, it would be their last. Soon after the film’s release, Komeda and Rosemary’s infamous producer William Castle were admitted to the same hospital for emergency treatment. Castle would eventually check-out. Komeda did not. Encompassing both creepy mood-setters and groovy swingers, Komeda’s music for Rosemary always perfectly compliments the on-screen action. Years later, Komeda’s lullabye for the film, “Sleep Safe and Warm,” would become a staple for his protégé Tomasz Stanko.

Rosemary stands head and shoulders above the gory low-budget dreck churned out on conveyer belts today. Rosemary is scary because it depicts the seductiveness of evil. A film like Hostel is frightening because its sicko filmmakers are walking around loose in the world. Seeing Rosemary on the big screen is a legitimate Halloween treat. It runs at Film Forum through Thursday.

Wasilewski Trio in New York: At MoMA with Tomasz Stanko

Last night represented the convergence of two on-going events that have been covered here: the Marcin Wasilewski Trio’s American tour and MoMA’s Jazz Score film series. Over the weekend MoMA screened several films with soundtracks composed by Krzysztof Komeda, and recorded by his group, usually featuring Tomasz Stanko on trumpet. Last night, Stanko gave a tribute concert of his mentor’s music, backed up by his protégés, the Wasilewski Trio, with special guest Billy Harper on tenor to round out the quintet.

There was not an empty seat to be had in the Titus Theater, and Stanko and his associates did not disappoint. Harper’s rougher tenor proved to be a good counterpoint to Stanko’s misty trumpet. Throughout the evening, the Wasilewski rhythm section-mates were ably supportive and tastefully swinging, often taking considerable solo honors themselves. At times, the ensemble could have been interpreting entire Komeda soundtracks, twisting and evolving to match an emotionally complex story arc.

Stanko has often returned to the music of Komeda, most recently recording “Kattorna” on his latest ECM release Lontano, as well as on tribute records like Litania and Music for K. Clearly he and the Wasilewski Trio are well familiar with Komeda’s music, but still find new things to say through it. Harper also sounded comfortable with the music, spreading warm tenor goodness over Komeda’s classic ballad theme from Knife in the Water for his quartet feature.

Stanko, Harper, and the Wasileski Trio nicely captured the many hues of Komeda’s music: up-tempo swing, darkly brooding ruminations, elegant lyricism, and nervous tension. It was a perfect concert for the MoMA film department to produce as part of their jazz retrospective.

Tonight, the Wasilewski Trio will finish their New York stint with a launch concert at Birdland for their latest CD, January, with an early hit time of 6:00. Based on last night’s audience reaction it promises to be another great show.

Jazz Score: Sounds of Komeda

Krzysztof Komeda is often considered a victim of the curse of Rosemary’s Baby, dying less than a year after the release the famous film he scored. He and producer William Castle were actually admitted to the same hospital, at the same time, but while Castle recovered, Komeda eventually succumbed to his injuries. He died prematurely young, but already one of Poland’s most influential jazz musicians and soundtrack composers. Saturday night, MoMA’s Jazz Score series showcased several films Komeda scored, and tonight, Tomasz Stanko, a former member of Komeda’s Quartet, will play his music at MoMA, backed up by the Marcin Wasilewski trio.

Komeda had a long association with Roman Polanski, which brought him to Hollywood in the late 1960’s. Though it is Polanski’s first full-length feature as a director, Knife in the Water hints at some of the psycho-sexual themes that would pre-occupy much of his later work. It also bears some slight similarity to Dead Calm, telling the story the arrogant, well-connected Andrzej and his trophy wife Krystyna, who pick up a young, un-named hitchhiker, and take him on their day cruise, evidently out of boredom and the challenge of his banter. However, that witty patter often gives way to darker expressions lurking below the surface, intensified by the claustrophobic conditions aboard the small yacht.

As dark and moody as Knife might be, Komeda’s score is not as dark as one might expect. It often swings nicely, capturing the bouncy of the open water with clear skies. At others times it is cool and laid back, almost languid like the placid sea.

Despite featuring some musicians associated with the avant-garde, including cornetist Don Cherry and tenor saxophonist Gato Barbieri, Komeda’s score for Le Départ is also a surprisingly swinging affair. The first film directed by Knife screenwriter Jerzy Skolimowski, it was actually filmed in Belgium, with a largely French cast, including Jean-Pierre Léaud, one of the most consistently annoying screen presences in international cinema.

To be fair, Léaud was often cast in roles demanding such performances, like in Last Tango in Paris and the great Day for Night. Again, here in Départ, he plays the immature dreamer. This Léaud character is Marc, a young hairdresser’s assistant obsessed with entering a motor rally, at the expense of his relations with real people, particularly a potential girlfriend he drags on a foolish, bordering criminal spree, in lieu of an actual date.

Départ is very much a continuation of the New Wave, crying out for comparisons to Godard’s Breathless. Skolimowski has a distinctly subversive eye, well matched by Komeda’s music. At times, his music undercuts the on-screen action, rather than reinforcing it, as when Marc begins a half-hearted attempt to seduce a middle-aged client at a fashion show. Komeda worked with Skolimowski on several projects, including Barrier, which often features the darker sounds frequently associated with the composer. Indeed, a Komeda retrospective would be a great follow-up series for MoMA.

Komeda was an important mentor to Stanko, who has often recorded his compositions. Tonight you can hear him interpret them anew at the MoMA. Tomorrow night, the Wasilewski Trio, mentored by Stanko, will play at Birdland, capping off a mini-festival of Polish Jazz in New York (but Knife and Départ will screen again on May 22nd).