POLISH FILM ACADEMY

Jerzy Kawalerowicz. Malarz X Muzy /Jerzy Kawalerowicz. Painter of the Tenth Muse, Editor: Mieczysław Kuźmicki, Krystyna Zamysłowska, Stanisław Zawiśliński, Publisher: Muzeum Kinematografii w Łodzi, 2012

He told his story in film

Waldemar Chrostowski

In order to understand yourself, you need to tell your story.
Jerzy Kawalerowicz told his in film.
I have chosen seven of his works. Not because these are the
best known but because they are clear keys and signposts in his
life, and so in his conscience. Also, because seven is a symbolic
number signifying perfection. Consequently, it manifests the
presence of the Holy Spirit, since a true artist always collaborates
with God.
The first on my shortlist is Cellulose (Celuloza). He made this
film in 1953 at the age of 31, enriched with experiences from his
home town Gwoździec, Kolomyia, Stanisławow and Kraków,
and with his film career already under way. He was looking – he
admitted – not only for a place for himself in post-war Poland
but also for his own way of life. He was tempted by communism
and maybe he was eventually seduced in a way, but he never felt
deceived. He believed in a man’s right to search for an answer,
even though groping, stumbling, making mistakes. He explained
that the reason he had chosen Igor Newerly’s novel was that it
approached postwar reality differently from how he felt at the
time. In his words; that film was his destiny. He said, 'Szczęsny
is me.’ (...)
The second film is Night Train. It was made in 1959 when Jerzy
Kawalerowicz was 37. The plot is very simple but not banal.
Simple things, if presented wisely, reveal deep and important
truths. All the passengers of the train are doomed to each other’s
company as they all share the same destination. For some that
was an allusion to Polish post-war reality. Some saw it as consent
to the choice of route accepted by the majority, others saw it as
an objection. As usual, different people saw what they wanted
to see, or rather what they felt in their souls. For Jerzy, it was
mainly a psychological study with the motto – quotation from
the film: 'Nobody loves but everybody wants to be loved.’ Night
Train is a dramatic question about love: does it really exist and
is it fulfilled in a dimension accessible to us? It is love that is the
biggest human challenge and task, and love is the destination of
all the symbolic passengers of Night Train.
I remember our very short journey together in a lift in the
Vatican Apostolic Palace in the summer of 2001, shortly before
the premiere of Quo vadis Jerzy Kawalerowicz recalled his
home town Gwoździec. He was evidently moved by the visit in
the palace and by looking at the world from a totally different
perspective. He was wondering at the fact that the Vatican – one
of the most exceptional places in the world – became the meeting
point for two Poles with such unique life paths. Who controls
our fate? Who puts all our actions into a logical whole whose
sense can only be grasped after a long time? In Night Train Jerzy
asked about love; in the Vatican he experienced a glimpse of what
orients us to Love. In the words of John Paul II, 'There is no love
beyond Love.’
In talking about Jerzy Kawalerowicz, one cannot pass over Mother
Joan of the Angels. He finished the film in 1960. It was inspired
by a short story by Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz, who had borrowed the
plot from a French story during the war. It was translated into
Polish with the great help of Tadeusz Konwicki. The film is one of
the most controversial works in Polish post-war cinema. Looking
back after half a century, it must be said that there has never been
a good time for that film. There are hundreds of reasons why it
should not have been made. But is there a right time for illness,
for suffering, for dying? Every time is a good time to excuse
oneself from difficult decisions and actions. On the other hand,
every time is a good time to go against the tide. Jerzy kept saying
that in Mother Joan of the Angels he managed to capture the
sense of art. But is it only art that matters in that film? Jerzy
would invariably say yes.
Once again I recall the visit to the Vatican. We were standing
at the window of the Apostolic Palace looking in silence at St
Peter’s Square. In his film, Jerzy Kawalerowicz showed the
Church as seen by the world; in the Vatican he saw the world
as seen by the Church... At one moment he said, clearly moved,
'You know, everything looks totally different from here.’
Yes, when you look at the world with the eyes of the Church
everything looks different than when you look at the Church
with the eyes of the world! The Church is often accused of
sweeping the weaknesses of its faithful under the carpet. That
is true, but the carpet is woven with threads of mercy, goodness
and forgiveness. It is a carpet which does not crush, condemn
or stigmatize. It is a good thing that Jerzy was also able to
experience this side of the Church in his lifetime.
Exactly in the middle of his life, at the age of 43, he made
Pharaoh (...) He bravely reached for the world of ancient Egypt
– unknown to him and yet close, full of tension, conflicts,
struggle for power, but also yearning for universal values like
beauty and faithfulness. The film that he created was beautiful
and pure. He was happy that over 40 million people saw it. That
film is an invaluable passport to his heart. He presented ancient
Egypt but in effect he was also telling the story of us, our world,
our ups and downs, virtues and vices, dark sides of our nature.
He reached for a similar topic in Death of a President. He
made the film in 1977 at the age of 55. Arguably, it is one of
his most underestimated works. It refers to the first years of
newly-regained statehood and it raises the question of whether
a nation which has regained independence is able to face all
relevant challenges and duties. There should not be easy
answers to difficult questions; Jerzy Kawalerowicz knew that
perfectly well.
I recall various meetings and conversations, also those in my flat
overlooking the monument of President Narutowicz. Jerzy would
ponder over the fate of his homeland. He asked himself where
his birth town Gwoździec belonged. In Poland? Eastern Galicia?
Western Ukraine...? 'Our homeland and independence are very
important issues that need discussing!’ he kept saying. He tried to
do this and he was very serious about it. He valued Poles who had
fought for Polish independence but he also remembered fighters
of other nationalities. He remembered shocking war scenes of
Germans brutally executing Ukrainians. There would be three
murderers shooting at one innocent victim, after which a doctor
would come up and finish the person off in case of doubt. Jerzy
repeated that he would never forget one dead man’s eyes silently
begging for life...
My film number six is Austeria. Jerzy was 59 when he made it in
1982. Some make Jewish-themed films for benefit; others avoid
the theme for fear of losing everything. Jerzy Kawalerowicz was
neither type. He was fascinated by the Jewish world with its
religious, cultural and social diversity. In Austeria he looked at the
world with the eyes of Julian Stryjkowski, whom I was lucky to
know and meet in the streets of Koło in Warsaw. That man never
pretended to be a Jew – he simply was one. The world from his
novel received a new breath of life from Jerzy Kawalerowicz, who
rendered it very vividly in his work. It shows the unusual world
of Polish Hasidic Jews, who believe that man was created to enjoy
God; therefore there is no other way to Him than through earthly
joys. Jerzy liked to talk about his Jewish friends, although he had
always felt much closer to the Armenian people. We know about
the Armenian hardships during World War I and the ordeal of the
genocide. We have an Armenian celebrant with us today who will
pray for Jerzy in the Armenian rite and language.
And lastly, Quo vadis! It was an unforgettable and very
important evening for Polish cinema when the film was
premiered in the presence of John Paul II in the Paul VI
Audience Hall. The Pope stressed the great spiritual values
of the work. Jerzy had been anxious to make that film.
Quo vadis was the second film that he ever saw - the silent
version at the Mars cinema in Kołomyja. Taking part in the
premiere, he might have wished what soon came true thanks
to Mirosław Słowiński: that he could make a sentimental
journey to Gwoździec. He spent his childhood and teen
years within the triangle marked by Gwoździec, Kołomyja
and Stanisławów. His Quo vadis stemmed in a way from
his longing for his youth and he added his own ending
to Sienkiewicz’s novel. At the end of the film, he showed
contemporary Rome, not a historic city reconstructed by
filmmakers, but today’s Rome, the Rome of John Paul II and
of Jerzy, too, to some extent. Quo vadis is his last work and,
in a way, his last will.
Jerzy Kawalerowicz started his studies with a view to
becoming a painter, but 'a painter’s options,’ he said, 'are
limited. Film offers much more. I made films when films
still meant something.’ (...)
He searched for his own recipe for life, often relying on
makeshift solutions offered by others. (...)
I was deeply moved when I was granting him absolution
and anointing him before his death. Bearing in mind his
post-war quests and searches, I was pondering the words of
Benedict XVI during his journey to Bavaria: 'Who believes
in God is never alone.’ In his journey to the other side of life
Jerzy was not alone...
Today we bid farewell to Jerzy Kawalerowicz. May he rest
in peace. From Gwoździec near Kołomyja he travelled to
Stanisławów and next to Kraków, from there to Warsaw and now
to the Honour Lane at the Powązki Cemetery... He long searched
for God, giving voice to his needs and dilemmas and we do hope
that God has found him and received him.
Eternal rest grant to him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine
upon him. Amen.
Rev. Prof. Waldemar Chrostowski
part of the homily given by the Rev. Prof. Waldemar Chrostowski during the
funeral mass for Jerzy Kawalerowicz at St Jacek's Church, Warsaw, 7 Jan 2008

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