A review of Michał Kwieciński's 'Chopin, Chopin!' – an analysis of an ambitious costume drama that had the potential for greatness but got mired in Polish metaphysics of suffering. For viewers seeking a critical perspective on contemporary Polish cinema.
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Last night I had the pleasure of attending the Łódź premiere of the film Chopin, Chopin! at EC1, graced by the presence of director Michał Kwieciński, Michał Pawlik, and local government officials involved in cultural affairs. Unfortunately, Eryk Kulm was absent due to illness. The event featured a recital of Chopin’s music, wine tasting, and an exhibition of photographs from the film set. Period costumes were also on display – a full presentation for a work aspiring to the status of a cultural event.
Łódź as a Film Set – The Irony of Devastation
Before the screening, a brief presentation and speech by Vice President Małgorzata Moskwa-Wodnickiej reminded us that Łódź positions itself as a film-friendly city with tradition. Part of the filming took place on Łódź streets, which – thanks to decay and devastation – provide an ideal setting for scenes of the French Revolution, for instance. Irony of fate or perverse self-promotion? Let everyone judge for themselves.
Filmmaking Craft at Its Best – Eryk Kulm’s Four Months of Preparation
After the film, there was a discussion with the director. Kwieciński talked about isolating Eryk Kulm in a villa in the French Alps, where he spent nearly four months practicing Chopin’s pieces, which he performed as a pianist mostly on his own. He also practiced French. This deserves great applause – you can feel the enormous effort and attention to period detail: period pianos, scenography, costumes. In the age of AI and Netflix fast food, such meticulousness should be praised.
Polish Metaphysics of Suffering – Where the Film Lost Its Potential
The director took an interesting approach to building Chopin’s character. He presented him as a social person who didn’t shy away from nocturnal escapades and after-parties following concerts, yet simultaneously lonely and struggling with advancing illness. And here the problem begins, because the film got stuck in what I call Polish metaphysics.
A study of decay prevails. If the director had knowledge from sources that during the voyage with George Sand, Chopin coughed up five liters of blood with lung fluid, we’ll see a bowl of sputum and blood on screen. There are many such images of coughing up blood. Was it necessary? In my opinion, no. The film is long, and there are decidedly too many such scenes.
The film’s true potential is lost in reviewing how Chopin learns about the mortality of his disease and lives normally until the knowledge that the end will be near and terrible really reaches him. The metaphysics manifests itself in typical Polish wallowing in martyrdom. We have figures of singing nuns, which brings tears to Chopin’s eyes, followed by his taking up the theme of “song” during practice.
George Sand – The Untapped Potential of the Relationship
The most interesting thread is the appearance of George Sand (Joséphine de La Baume) and her preparation of Chopin for death, along with a promise – unfulfilled, which is also a strong accent of the film – that she will hold Chopin in her arms at the moment of death. If the director had spared us all these pointless, banal side plots like visiting family for farewells and focused on the psychology of the George Sand and Chopin relationship, showing this final stage – the film would have been brilliant.
Electronic Music in the 19th Century – Misguided Experiments
There are also weak moments. The first scene: Chopin walks out onto the streets of Paris accompanied by… electronic music. This atmosphere-disrupting element appears several times and not only doesn’t fit the film but outright ruins the mood. The director explained that it was supposed to be “something different” and indeed it was – different, but not in a good way. For me, revolutionary times are times when nature (disease, revolution) decides human fate. I missed something here that I saw in Wajda’s Danton, where you could feel the cold, icy breath of revolution.
The drama of Chopin as a dying person was, in my opinion, trivialized by banal metaphysics. If this had been realized at the level of Sound of Metal, where a drummer loses his hearing and we see emotions and metaphysics, but universal, mystical – the film would have been brilliant. The actors and the rest of the crew had the potential for it.
The whole thing was reduced to presenting a different Chopin, but within the same martyrdom template. The final scene kills our hope with banality: the dying Chopin plays his piece and says in the last second of the film “That’s it,” which is supposed to symbolize death. Cheap.
The Symbolism of Pigs – A Brilliant Figure That Could Have Dominated the Film
The introduction of black pigs – lying like dogs by the piano – is, however, an interesting device. It’s the symbolism of unclean forces and nature that takes back what is its own. The brilliant potential of this symbol is revealed on the ship where the ailing Chopin and George Sand are smuggled. Because of his illness, he was refused collective transport, so he was smuggled with six hundred pigs below deck. This symbolism and his contempt for the masses to whom he gave concerts but who didn’t understand his music is fascinating. The narcotic vision (he took opium to relieve pain) during a concert when black pigs run into the concert hall among the people, after which he interrupts the concert and flees – this is a brilliant figure.
It’s a shame that precisely these threads – the figure of pigs in contrast to the masses mindlessly consuming his mystical music and the relationship with George Sand – didn’t dominate the film. I would like to see someone presenting Chopin, instead of showing the thread of the heart that the musician wants to end up in Warsaw after death, play with the figure of the pig and this post-mortem reception. However, these threads might be too controversial. Instead of 6/10, I would give it decidedly more.
Rating: 6/10 – A Solid Film with Flashes of Genius
Why do I give 6 to a film I criticize so much? Because compared to other weak Polish productions, this one stands out. I’m also aware of how difficult it is, under pressure from institutions, donors, and expectations, to create such a bold work as I described in Polish conditions – temporal and financial. There’s also the problem of the echo chamber in which the community sits.
Kwieciński had material for great cinema. By juxtaposing two powerful symbols: the romantic, national myth of the heart in Warsaw with the dirty, naturalistic, but far more ambiguous symbol of pigs. All the more relevant in the brutal times we live in. The director had in his hands a tool to create a truly iconoclastic and innovative work, but ultimately didn’t fully utilize it, perhaps fleeing toward safer, more familiar martyrology. We got a solid costume film with flashes of genius, overwhelmed by the Polish metaphysics of suffering.