Cold War (2018)
Somewhere in the 50's, Poland is still reeling from the aftermath of WWII. As the nation seeks to rebuild itself from the ruins, Wiktor seeks to rebrand Polish music to the world once again. Along with his musical team, they scavenge around what remains of the country for whatever authentic folk singers there are left. Nobody really has that X Factor voice, not until Zula starts singing, demonstrating that much desired operatic Slavic note.
In Paweł Pawlikowski’s black and white romance, Poland seems that much more intimate, that much more inviting, and that much less communist. The dour architecture contrasts well with the psychedelic atmosphere. Like many of the romances that have come from Tolstoy’s literatures, the love affair clings ever so slightly against the most of unfortunate circumstance. Slowly but surely, dubiety, fatigue, and overall bad timing will begin to erode the most carnal of epic romances. There is no happy ending between these two.
Apart from her voice, Zula also stands out with her sharp features and pertly blondness. It is not to say that the other villagers at the auditions are bad-looking, but Zula herself is an odd one out of the ethnically pure villagers so coveted by the austere Polish government. Maybe it is the accent, but her upbeat Polish verse is not even the designated language. It is from a Russian film. It is alright, because she exudes that cherubical Soviet appearance, the likes of a “Katya” or an “Inessa”. Furthermore, there is something erotic about the fact that Zula was imprisoned before for assaulting her abusive father, at least in the eyes of Wiktor.
Their feverish sonata brings success to their careers as well, particuarly for Zula, and it is when an opportunity to leave/defect Poland through Berlin surfaces. It is the classic agreement to meet at X location at Y time, but it appears that one of them did not get the meeting invite. The romance takes a brief hold, up until they unironically rendezvous without invite in the city of light, Paris.
Cold War is unmistakably a film emboldened by the understanding of personal hardships. Even in Paris, Wiktor and a girded Zula fight to survive together, routinely making excuses and breaking promises. One would think that the cobblestone Parisian streets and gothic architecture, sung by the underground jazz clubs would give this pilgrimage a happy ending. And still, it does not. Soon, old habits come back, with cracks returning to their relationship, either by circumstance or choice.
No matter.
They are remembered for their enthralling admiration for one another, their starry choreographs, and their unwavering patience. A portrait of Stalin looms over Wiktor’s choir, seemingly reminding Wiktor that he is always being surveyed, further daring Wiktor’s mischief.
In Pawlikowski’s fictional world, two of the most illogical, yet painfully seductive characters enchant to an extent where even the audience would like to hang around for longer, just so that they may catch another glimpse of Wiktor and Zula in each other’s embrace. Of course, despite the sheer ominous colour palette, Cold War makes for a beautiful scenery, and within it, the life, the soul, and the dolour. They will be remembered.
