An extraordinary and hallucinatory film. The barriers of the title aren't just the barriers between generations- the ones that fought in the Second World War- or said they fought- where a sixth of the men in Poland died- and the younger ones, but barriers between intellectuals and workers -well, this film was made in Communist Poland-, men and women, -comparatively- rich and -comparatively- poor, dreams and reality, religion and secularity- the film begins on Easter Sunday, the last day of lent, and the score contrasts Latin church chants and jazz- romanticism and cynicism -three times different characters say, with different degrees of cynicism, "Even our cynical and indifferent generation still has romantic hopes"-.
The opening itself is a disorienting barrier. We hear a Latin chant. We see a crouching man's bare back- His hands are tied behind, which he accepts, he leans forward and falls out of our sight with a crash. Another man- dressed in contemporary clothes, takes his place. Slowly we learn- the chant is not religious, but medical Latin- parts of the body to be learned by heart; the men are young medical students. They are playing a game- they must kneel on a table and lean forward and pick up in their mouths a matchbox balanced on a ruler. If they lean too far they overbalance and fall forward and must curl their head down to fall on their shoulders or risk breaking their neck or skull. They are competing for a piggy-bank full of money. Perhaps everything that happens after this is the hallucination of one of the young men who didn't fall properly.
However, it looks as if one of the young men has won the prize. After that we have a series of episodes that may be real, may be dreams- all are part of the lies of film that look for better truths, of course. We learn that the young man is thinking of abandoning his medical studies and setting out to make money. The young man is given his father's sabre- bought back from hock- and for all his cynicism he will not sell it at a profit. He meets a girl- a tram driver- and she pretends to be his wealthy- perhaps non-existent- fiancée. There is an extraordinary scene in a restaurant- until midnight on Easter Sunday it is almost empty and then at midnight the restaurant fills with old soldiers and their wives in a celebration of life and Christ's resurrection. Eventually the girl agrees to go to a dance with they young man, but cannot change her shift at work. She does her duty and then, too late, goes there and asks after him. All she knows about him- all she can tell others- is that he carried a sabre- which is broken now. Finally, in a parodic "cute meet", as she drives her tram away the young man's head rises over the windscreen. She stops suddenly and he falls off. "Get out of the snow," she says "You'll catch cold."
All the way through the film there are extraordinary images- the camera scurries and looks around at the characters- all the time: a crowd of people running aimlessly, stopping and starting at traffic lights; a bull-fight with an empty motorcar, the young man with his sabre the matador, against a background of a department store or brothel- "Poland" is part of its name- where the window is full of mannequins- human or wax?- as the car's protective sheeting is cut away. Other scenes- especially between the young couple and the head waiter at the expensive restaurant- could be from a comedy of manners or Beckett.
The opening itself is a disorienting barrier. We hear a Latin chant. We see a crouching man's bare back- His hands are tied behind, which he accepts, he leans forward and falls out of our sight with a crash. Another man- dressed in contemporary clothes, takes his place. Slowly we learn- the chant is not religious, but medical Latin- parts of the body to be learned by heart; the men are young medical students. They are playing a game- they must kneel on a table and lean forward and pick up in their mouths a matchbox balanced on a ruler. If they lean too far they overbalance and fall forward and must curl their head down to fall on their shoulders or risk breaking their neck or skull. They are competing for a piggy-bank full of money. Perhaps everything that happens after this is the hallucination of one of the young men who didn't fall properly.
However, it looks as if one of the young men has won the prize. After that we have a series of episodes that may be real, may be dreams- all are part of the lies of film that look for better truths, of course. We learn that the young man is thinking of abandoning his medical studies and setting out to make money. The young man is given his father's sabre- bought back from hock- and for all his cynicism he will not sell it at a profit. He meets a girl- a tram driver- and she pretends to be his wealthy- perhaps non-existent- fiancée. There is an extraordinary scene in a restaurant- until midnight on Easter Sunday it is almost empty and then at midnight the restaurant fills with old soldiers and their wives in a celebration of life and Christ's resurrection. Eventually the girl agrees to go to a dance with they young man, but cannot change her shift at work. She does her duty and then, too late, goes there and asks after him. All she knows about him- all she can tell others- is that he carried a sabre- which is broken now. Finally, in a parodic "cute meet", as she drives her tram away the young man's head rises over the windscreen. She stops suddenly and he falls off. "Get out of the snow," she says "You'll catch cold."
All the way through the film there are extraordinary images- the camera scurries and looks around at the characters- all the time: a crowd of people running aimlessly, stopping and starting at traffic lights; a bull-fight with an empty motorcar, the young man with his sabre the matador, against a background of a department store or brothel- "Poland" is part of its name- where the window is full of mannequins- human or wax?- as the car's protective sheeting is cut away. Other scenes- especially between the young couple and the head waiter at the expensive restaurant- could be from a comedy of manners or Beckett.
