In BURNING BUSH, Poland's Agnieszka Holland tackles Russian repression in Czechoslovakia

From post-WWII through the fall of the Berlin Wall, Eastern Europe under USSR-sponsored Communism was no fun fest. And though we've had plenty of filmic examples of life under these various Communist regimes (from Knife in the Water to The Lives of Others), few have captured that peculiar sense of near-constant drudgery and dread as well as does Agnieszka Holland in her three-part, four-hour BURNING BUSH (Horící ker), made for HBO Europe.

Ms Holland, shown at right, has by now given us so many intelligent and provocative dramas about her home country and certain neighboring states that Burning Bush -- which tells of the student group and its members who began to sacrifice themselves as human torches on the altar of democracy after the Russians cracked down on Czechoslovakia in those depressing days post-Prague Spring -- seems a more than fitting capper to her pretty much brilliant career. I'm not saying it's over, either; after this one, Holland directed the recent remake of Rosemary's Baby for TV. (Are only Polish directors allowed to film the Ira Levin novel?)

The event that begins the movie (the initial immolation, above) would seem to be horrible enough. But, then, most of us Americans haven't a clue to the kind of life lived under governments which were themselves under the thumb of their USSR masters. This life would include near-constant surveillance, betrayals large and small, and careers stunted or ended by behavior that might seem exemplary in western society. (Having said this, I do realize that this sort of life is now becoming more and more prevalent here in America, too.)

So, yes, as awful as is the first burning and another that follows fairly soon after, how the state -- the Czech powers that serve their Russian masters -- handles all this becomes the heart of the movie and proves worse even than the burnings themselves. To Holland's great credit, she allows us to understand why the Czechs in power would want to placate the Russians. (They must prevent the burning as being seen as an act of defiance of Russian control, or tanks will again invade the country and its already shaky government may be removed altogether.) But to what lengths these subservient Czechs go and how shabbily, how nastily they carry these out makes for one of the bleakest looks yet at the Eastern block.

As written by newcomer, Stephan Hulik, the teleplay involves a wide range of characters -- from the student group that initiates the bombings (some of whom are shown below) to the family (above) of the first victim/suicide, Jan Palach; from the government officials who try to tarnish the dead boy as being a dupe of right-wing fascists to the lawyer, a woman, who takes on the case when that family sues the official who slandered their son; from that lawyer's boss, whose daughter is part of the student group, to the lawyer's husband, a doctor who loses his hospital job -- weaving their stories together with credibility and finesse.

Doing the right thing has seldom seemed so fraught and devastating, nor has decency appeared so utterly useless. Betrayals are everywhere, with family pitted against friend. The 60s, Czech-style, are recreated here with surprising efficiency and a smart memory, from the homes and apartments and what they contain to fashions and automobiles.

The film is full of fine performances, with standouts from Tatiana Pauhofová (above, right) as the lawyer, Jaroslava Pokorná (three photos above, as well as bottom, left) as the mother of Jan Palach, Jan Budar (below) as the doctor/husband, and Martin Huba (at bottom, right) as the official who tries to destroy the reputation of Jan Palach. Everyone is a victim here, but some seem all too eager to betray and profit from that betrayal, while others betray because they want to save their own family. Ms Holland and Mr. Hulik keep a tight rein on the movie's morality; few characters merge totally unscathed.

Holland creates a mood of uneasiness both visually (the main cinematographer was Martin Struba) and musically (the score is by Antoni Komaza-Lazarkeiwicz) that hangs over the entire film. Instead of a happy ending, we get worse and then worse. While the events shown here happened 45 years ago, there is -- as those who stay for the end credits will learn -- a posthumous bit of upbeat news. That's nice. But it's way too late. It' s also about, as ever, a state congratulating itself for doing now what it didn't have the balls to do then.

Burning Bush, from Kino Lorber and running 240 minutes, will open in New York City this Wednesday, June 11, at Film Forum. Because of the lengthy running time, the film will be divided into two parts but with only a single admission charge for both. Part One lasts 160 minutes, Part Two only 80 minutes. If you do not wish to see the film at consecutive screenings, a voucher will be distributed to those patrons who prefer to come back later to see Part Two. In the weeks to come, it will shown in several other cities, too. Click here then scroll down to see all currently scheduled playdates.

To make it even easier to see this exemplary piece of historical drama, the film also makes its streaming debut via FANDOR on the same day as its theatrical release, Wednesday, June 11.

Agnieszka Holland's IN DARKNESS, Best Foreign-Language Film nominee, opens

There is a scene at the beginning of award-winning filmmaker Agnieszka Holland's new yet-another-look-at-the-Holocaust movie, IN DARKNESS, that has already stamped itself on my permanent memory: A group of women run naked in slow-motion through what seems like an open space in the middle of a forest. The time must be early morning, as the barely-daylight colors are muted blues and grays against  the dark green of the trees and the lighter green of the grass beneath them. Their pale white bodies are impressively voluptuous -- large hips and full breasts -- but we can't enjoy this because, from what we can see of their facial expressions, they are in terror. Then we see the German Nazis, guns at the ready, chasing them. We don't witness the massacre; we hear it, and then see the women's sprawled bodies on the grass. As I say: etched in memory for all time. This single scene, in its weird combination of beauty and horror -- Picnic on the Grass meets The Scream -- is all we need to place the film firmly in the realm of memorable Holocaust movies.

With this scene, Ms Holland (shown at right, and who has given us her share of fine films over the years) nails the awful "special-ness" of the Holocaust -- the horror, humanity and inhumanity all rolled into one -- so that we don't need our noses rubbed much further in atrocity. Not that this movie is any kind of lark. No, it tells a narrative tale based on a true event, of a Polish man who helped a small group of Jews survive the death of almost all their friends and families by hiding them in the sewers under the city of Lvov, where he worked in sewer maintenance.

This man, Leopold Socha, memorably played with a fine combination of Christian entitlement and greedy sleaze by Robert Wieckiewicz (above), only very slowly warms up to his hostages, who've agreed to pay him all they have. One of  the movie's arcs is that of a man changing enough to discover his humanity via that of the "other." His sweet, sometimes sassy wife seems more understanding than he early on, as she reminds him, to his surprise, that Jesus was a Jew. But even she, very well-played by Kinga Preis (below), has terrible misgivings when she learns what he is doing.

The movie's other arc belongs to those Jews, hidden in the dank, sloppy grime of the sewers, having to give up everything to hold on to what's left of life. In one devastating scene, a wife must watch and hear as her husband makes love to his mistress just inches away from where she and their daughter are/were sleeping. Just as Leopold becomes more human, these people seem in danger of completely losing their humanity. So much happens to these "refugees," in fact, that much of it would seem unbelievable had not Ms Holland and her fine cast (including Benno Fürmann and Maria Schrader) made it so immediate and involving.

Upstairs, meanwhile, Leopold, his wife and daughter entertain an old pal (who is now one of the prime Nazi helpers) as he orders a sewer search to find any remaining Jews. Other incidents pile up -- the most suspenseful of which involves that Nazi symp, Leopold and his too-talkative daughter -- making us tremble and fear that we can stand no more (this is the feeling that all genuine Holocaust movies ought to provoke).

If you know history, you'll know the outcome -- but not the specifics that Holland and her writer David F. Shamoon (from the book by Robert Marshall) have provided. These glue us to the screen so that when at last that literal light at the end of the tunnel appears, you'll know you've lived through something. What happens, who survives and who does not provides both the suspense and excitement of films like The Poseidon Adventure but also some important history and food for thought.

While I can sympathize with the belief of A.O.Scott in his NY Times review that the fact that the film "is touching, warm and dramatically satisfying" is -- given the subject matter -- exactly its problem. But no: In Darkness is much more than touching, warm and dramatically satisfying. It is also dark, ugly, horrifying and not always predictable. If it makes a couple of slightly more melodramatic choices than it might have, given all it does right, this is forgivable.

The friend who saw the screening with me found the movie well-done but said that he was tired of seeing countries such as Poland, from where the film comes, trying to co-opt the Holocaust. I understand what he means, but since Leopold Socha existed and did pretty much what the movie has him doing, we have to give that country credit for producing at least a few "heroes." Plus, what we learn from the end credits reduces some of Poland's good marks in the hero department.

Will In Darkness win Best Foreign-Language Film? Possibly. A Separation is more unusual and nuanced -- plus it's from Iran, so it would seem particularly gracious of the American Academy to bestow such an honor on that country at this particular time. We'll see. Meanwhile, view the movie and judge for yourself. After its one-week qualifying run in both cities toward the end of last year, the film opens, via Sony Pictures Classics, this Friday, February 10, in New York (at the Angelika Film Center and the Lincoln Plaza Cinema) and in Los Angeles on February 17 at Laemmle's Monica 4-Plex, Town Center 5 and Playhouse 7.