Time To Die (Pora Umiera) Dorota Kedzierzawska Poland 2007
When I first heard the title of Time To Die, without having any inkling of its themes or style, I must admit that for a moment I imagined the worst: Lurid car chases, cacophonous noise, crappy acting and the effluvium of popcorn reeking up into my nostrils were I stupid enough to go see this film. This first impression could not have been more wrong. No film could be more contrary to the sort of blockbuster nightmare connoted by the translated title of Dorota Kedzierzawska's film. Elegantly constructed, poignant and elegiac, and gently shot in the crispest of black and white tones, Time To Die is the story of Aniela, a 91 year old lady who is the last resident of her family home on the outskirts of Warsaw. Little happens in terms of plot in Kedzierzawska's film. For the most part we accompany Aniela's interior monologue, and slowly grow to look on her as lovingly as her faithful pet dog, Philadelphia (who turns in a fine supporting performance!).
As the title indicates, Kedzierzawska's film is the story of Aniela's life in its final period, as the final grains of sand pour through the hourglass of her existence. In our contemporary culture obsessed with the fast, the new and the young, here is a film that seems to deal patiently and even-handedly with old age. At times Aniela is cantankerous, at times she is unfair, but she is also twinkly-eyed and devilishly mischievous. In short, Aniela is a very old-fashioned, but effective, thing: a rounded character. As our emotional response to her develops, we also grow slowly to share a love for the pleasures that the slow pace of her old age brings: the grainy beauty of memory, the interest in observation. As the pace of our viewing slows to accompany the gentle pulse of this film, we too experience the pleasures of the little things Aniela delights in. We watch as Aniela plays with her dog, as she walks at midnight in the rain of a summer storm, as she mulls over in her memory how her little boy used to turn back to look at his mother as he ran down the garden path. Old age is not romanticised however. Aniela still suffers from the lack of respect accorded to the aged, from the loneliness she experiences, especially through her now middle-aged son's lack of interest, and the physical frailties which undermine her. Time To Die's success in handling these recognisable themes is how it manages both to steer clear of the reductions of cliché, facile sentimentality and the entrapments of the saccharine, all whilst creating an aged character that is recognisable across cultures.
Time To Die would seem to be as embedded in a moment of Polish history as much as any given person is within the cultures of their home country. Aniela represents a tie to a pre-war Mittleuropa that could only glow with such a golden hue in the halcyon light of memory, a memory poignant for the disappearance of its basis in reality. Aniela's life is now occupied by three things: waiting for her son to call, in the hope that he will move back into his childhood home, and not continue to tarnish the memory of her darling boy with the inconsiderate actions of the doltish man he has become; watching the goings on at the shabby music school in front of her, and the romance of the two teachers that run it; and tutting at the activities of her nouveau-riche, faintly gangster-like neighbour to the left, and his bimbo girlfriend.
Aniela's greatest wish is to somehow capture the past, by convincing her oafish son and fatso goddaughter to move in. Her family have no interest in this idea, however, beyond getting their hands on the possessions she so cherishes for their monetary value alone. When the Mafioso next door decides he wants Aniela's house, heartbreak awaits when, whilst spying late at night, she catches a meeting she had no business overhearing. By the time the end of Aniela's story comes, it is no surprise, like the close of a long and involved life, which is not to say that though long-telegraphed ahead, the denouement is not satisfying when it finally arrives and some sense of value triumphs over naked greed.
Danuta Szaflarska's performance as Aniela is outstanding. It is as if a complex pulley system has put into action all the wrinkles in her face, creating finely graded tones of expression that melt from one to the next like the colours on the finest of palates. The fact that there is such an overlap between actress and role, at least in terms of the stage in life in which they find themselves, creates the sort of intensity one normally only sees in the theatre, where audience and performer have the impression of sharing an instant of life. The movie is enormously moving, and enormously satisfying. At the end of her life, Aniela ensures that, although she will pass away, she will leave something to the future. Szaflarska also achieves this with Time To Die. Hugely recommended.
