A blog formerly known as Bookishness / By Charles Matthews

"Dazzled by so many and such marvelous inventions, the people of Macondo ... became indignant over the living images that the prosperous merchant Bruno Crespi projected in the theater with the lion-head ticket windows, for a character who had died and was buried in one film and for whose misfortune tears had been shed would reappear alive and transformed into an Arab in the next one. The audience, who had paid two cents apiece to share the difficulties of the actors, would not tolerate that outlandish fraud and they broke up the seats. The mayor, at the urging of Bruno Crespi, explained in a proclamation that the cinema was a machine of illusions that did not merit the emotional outbursts of the audience. With that discouraging explanation many ... decided not to return to the movies, considering that they already had too many troubles of their own to weep over the acted-out misfortunes of imaginary beings."
--Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Friday, August 26, 2022

All These Sleepless Nights (Michal Marczak, 2016)













Cast: Krzysztof Baginski, Michal Huszcza, Eva Lebuef. Screenplay: Michal Marczak, Katarzyna Szczerba. Cinematography: Michal Marczak, Maciej Twardowski. Film editing: Dorota Wardeszkiewicz. Music: Lubomir Grzelak. 

Youth, the adage goes, is wasted on the young. In All These Sleepless Nights, Michal Marczak’s pseudo-documentary, the young are hell-bent on wasting it. The film centers on two Warsaw art students, Krzysztof Baginski and Michal Huszcza, playing themselves in scenes both spontaneous and scripted, along with Eva Lebuef, the ex-girlfriend of Michal and the new girlfriend – at least for a while – of Kris. They lead a hedonistic life, with drug-taking and sex and cigarette smoking and partying, with only occasional reflections that this life can’t last. There’s only fleeting interaction with older adults and no indication that there is a price to be paid for self-indulgence – indeed, they seem to have unlimited means, as the apartment with the spectacular view that Kris lives in very much suggests. But this isn’t a moralizing movie: The tone is very much on the side of carpe diem. The ephemerality of this way of life is symbolically represented by the fireworks display at the film’s beginning, but there’s no hint of burnout in the story. Only near the end is there a scene that suggests self-awareness, as Kris does a bit of performance art in a public park, dressed as an Easter bunny and speaking via loudspeaker to passers-by, including an elderly couple whom he praises for their closeness and endurance. But then at film’s end he’s practicing dance moves in the middle of traffic, living on the edge. There’s no story to grab onto, and the film sometimes stretched my patience, but as an immersion into other lives it’s worthy of attention.