Between Word and Image – The Literary Inspirations of Wojciech Jerzy Has

“Has’s Journeys,” exhibition at the National Center for Film Culture in Łódź, August 2025, photo by J. Sokołowska-Gwizdka

The work of Wojciech Jerzy Has represents one of the most beautiful encounters between literature and cinema in the history of Polish culture. A director endowed with an extraordinary visual imagination and a deep sensitivity to the written word, Has was able to translate prose into the language of images in a profoundly original way. His films are not faithful illustrations of literary works—they are poetic interpretations, painterly records of emotion, memory, and imagination. Has did not so much adapt literature as he painted it with light and shadow, transforming words into metaphors and stories into dreams.

Cinema Rooted in Literature

It is no coincidence that most of Has’s films are adaptations of Polish and world literary classics. Yet, the director did not treat the literary text as a ready-made screenplay, but rather as material for personal interpretation. In his films, prose becomes a starting point for philosophical reflection on the world, memory, and the human condition.

In The Manuscript Found in Saragossa (based on the novel by Jan Potocki), Has created a labyrinth of stories, where one tale gives birth to another, and dream blends with reality. In The Hourglass Sanatorium (after Bruno Schulz)—a visual masterpiece—the world of literary metaphor was translated into images of extraordinary plasticity. Each scene resembles a painting: dense, saturated with color, light, and texture.

Similarly, in The Codes (based on Andrzej Kijowski’s prose) and How to Be Loved (after Kazimierz Brandys), Has explored the relationships between past and present, memory and oblivion, giving them a universal dimension. In his hands, literature becomes a spiritual vehicle—a tool for delving into the depths of the human condition.

Image as Memory

Wojciech Has was an aesthete and a collector. In his films, every object—a faded photograph, a clock, a book, a folding fan—carries symbolic weight. It is the things that speak for people, for in them memory is preserved. Has’s camera not only tells a story but also observes and touches. The lens glides over the texture of fabrics, furniture, dust, and smoke, creating a world that feels almost tangible, rich in sensual detail.

In this sense, Has was a continuator of the painterly tradition of the Polish Film School—closely linked to 19th-century and Art Nouveau painting, with its attention to ornament and detail. Each of his films is a visual poem, where aesthetics serve not decoration but metaphor. His frames evoke the canvases of Hieronymus Bosch or Vermeer—mysterious, precise, and multilayered.

“Has’s Journeys,” exhibition at the National Center for Film Culture in Łódź, August 2025, photo by J. Sokołowska-Gwizdka

The World in the Mirror of Illusion

Has’s world is one of illusion, reflection, and dream. The director leads the viewer into an uncertain space, where time loses its linear quality. The protagonists of his films wander like in a labyrinth of memories, searching for meaning in the chaos of events. Has created a cinema of melancholy—filled with reflection on transience, the impossibility of recreating the past, and the loneliness of man within a world of symbols.

In this sense, film becomes for him a philosophical meditation, and image—a tool of understanding. As the director himself wrote, “Film is like a dream from which we do not wish to wake.”

The Legacy of a Visual Poet

The work of Wojciech Jerzy Has remains one of the most important chapters in the history of Polish art cinema. His films—with their union of literary depth and refined visual form—continue to inspire filmmakers around the world. In an age when cinema is often ruled by spectacle and plot, Has reminds us that the image can carry spiritual meaning.

He was a poet of cinema, painting with light and shadow. His frames—like the words of Schulz or Potocki—never age, for they touch what is timeless in the human soul: the longing for beauty, memory, and meaning.

„Has’s Journeys,” exhibition at the National Center for Film Culture in Łódź, August 2025, photo by J. Sokołowska-Gwizdka

Compiled by Joanna Sokołowska-Gwizdka

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Films Directed by Wojciech Jerzy Has

The Noose (1957)
Based on the short story by Marek Hłasko.
A moving portrait of a man struggling with addiction and loneliness, unfolding over the course of a single day. Has preserved the psychological depth of Hłasko’s prose, giving it the rhythm of cinematic breathing.

Farewells (1958)
Based on the novel by Stanisław Dygat.
A coming-of-age story of a young intellectual during wartime, imbued with melancholy and irony. The film depicts the loss of illusions and the passing of youth—a theme close to both Dygat and Has.

Shared Room (1959)
Based on the novel by Zbigniew Uniłowski.
A portrait of the Warsaw bohemia of the 1930s, with its poverty, dreams, and restlessness. Has captures the atmosphere of the literary original with remarkable tenderness, creating a film about the disillusionments of a young generation.

Goodbye to the Past (1960)
Based on the short story by Stanisław Dygat.
A subtle tale of the end of love, rendered in a tone of reflection and sorrow. The film is also a poetic study of the transience of feelings and memories.

Gold (1962)
Based on the short story by Józef Hen.
The story of treasure hunters in post-war Lower Silesia. Has transforms Hen’s prose into a moral parable about human greed and the longing for redemption.

Barbara Krafftówna and Wojciech Has after the gala premiere of the film How to Be Loved on January 11, 1963, at the Moskwa Cinema in Warsaw. Photo by Jerzy Troszczyński, source: exhibition Has’s Journeys.

How to Be Loved (1963)
Based on the short story by Kazimierz Brandys.
One of the greatest achievements of Polish psychological cinema. A woman who has survived the war returns to her memories. Has creates a film about memory, guilt, and solitude, in which literature becomes a confession of the soul.

The Manuscript Found in Saragossa (1964)
Based on the novel by Jan Potocki.
A masterpiece of world cinema—a baroque labyrinth of stories where reality mingles with fantasy. Has brought the novel’s multilayered structure to the screen with extraordinary visual mastery.

The Codes (1966)
Based on the short story by Andrzej Kijowski.
An intimate drama of a father and son trying to rebuild their bond after the war. Has presents the past as a space of uncertainty and silence, where every word carries the weight of mystery.

The Doll (1968)
Based on the novel by Bolesław Prus.
One of the most complete adaptations of a literary classic. In Has’s interpretation, Wokulski becomes a symbol of a man torn between love and reason, ideal and reality. The film enchants with its visual richness and psychological subtlety.

Exhibition “Has’s Journeys”

The Hourglass Sanatorium (1973)
Based on the stories by Bruno Schulz.
A poetic dream about time, memory, and death. Has transformed Schulz’s prose into a visual poem, where the world of objects and memories comes alive within the magical space of a dream.

From Nowhere to Nowhere (1975)
Original screenplay by the director, spiritually inspired by the works of Fyodor Dostoevsky and Bruno Schulz.
A metaphorical film about human confusion and the search for meaning in a purposeless world. Here, Has fuses philosophy and the poetry of the image.

An Uninteresting Story (1983)
Based on the short story by Anton Chekhov.
An intimate study of an aging professor taking stock of his life. With remarkable delicacy, Has portrays the drama of lost purpose and spiritual exhaustion.

Memoirs of a Sinner (1985)
Loosely inspired by the prose of Jerzy Harasymowicz.
An introspective tale of guilt and confession of the soul. Has creates a visual world of symbols and memories, where the boundary between dream and reality nearly disappears.

The Tribulations of Balthazar Kober (1988)
Based on the novel by Frédérick Tristan.
Has’s final film—a philosophical parable about a man seeking truth and meaning in a world filled with illusion. A mystical, masterfully photographed journey through the realms of knowledge and faith.

„Has’s Journeys,” exhibition at the National Center for Film Culture in Łódź, August 2025, photo by J. Sokołowska-Gwizdka

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20th Austin Polish Film Festival, Texas

As part of the 20th Austin Polish Film Festival, audiences will have the opportunity to see both the documentary about Wojciech Jerzy Has, Rysopis znaleziony po latach (The Identification Marks Rediscovered), and his own film The Manuscript Found in Saragossa. The program will also feature an exhibition of posters for Has’s films, on loan from the Museum of Cinematography in Łódź.

https://www.austinpolishfilm.com/

Krystyna Skarbek – Spy, Lady, the Inspiration for James Bond

Krystyna Skarbek, also known as Christine Granville, France, August 1944, photographer unknown, source: Wikimedia Commons

She was a woman from another time — an era when people still believed in honor, truth, and courage. Krystyna Skarbek, the daughter of a Polish count, was born in Warsaw in 1908, when the old empires still stood and Poland was yet to be reborn. Her childhood unfolded in the shadow of the manor house, among whispers of ancestors who had served kings and emperors, of horses, hunts, and salons where people discussed Chopin and Sienkiewicz.

Her father, Count Jerzy Skarbek, came from an old noble family bearing the Abdank coat of arms, whose history dated back to the Middle Ages. Family stories echoed with the past glory of the Skarbeks — landowners, benefactors, and patrons of the arts. It was the Skarbeks of Żelazowa Wola who owned the manor where Fryderyk Chopin was born and who became his godparents. Yet, by Krystyna’s time, that world was fading. Debts, squandered fortunes, and social change meant that noble titles had become mere echoes of former grandeur.

Krystyna’s mother, Stefania Goldfeder, came from a completely different world — that of Jewish bankers from Łódź, wealthy and modern, whose fortunes were built in banks and factories. It was her dowry that saved the Skarbek name from ruin. And yet, deep in Krystyna’s soul lived what she had inherited from her father: pride and an untamed need for freedom.

From Polish Manors to the Underground

When war broke out, Krystyna was already a woman seasoned by life and marriage, but it was the war that became her true destiny. In 1939, in Paris, she volunteered for the British secret service. She was 31, with the beauty of a film star, flawless French, and a courage that would become legendary. She was accepted into the Special Operations Executive (SOE) — the secret organization created by Churchill to “set Europe ablaze.”

Under the alias Christine Granville, she embarked on a game where the stakes were life and death — her own and that of hundreds of others. Her first mission already made her a near-mythical figure. In the winter of 1940, wearing a fur coat and ski boots, she crossed the Tatra Mountains, carrying messages and microfilms from Hungary into occupied Poland. In the cold and wind, often alone, she was guided only by instinct and bravery. Her mountain guide from Zakopane later recalled that he had “never seen a woman so calm in the face of death.”

In Budapest, where she was stationed for several months, she built a network of contacts and communications that delivered the first credible reports on the situation in occupied Poland to London. She used many aliases — including Paulina Armand and Madame Granville — and could win over aristocrats, diplomats, and simple soldiers alike.

After the fall of France and Hungary, she was sent on new missions to North Africa and France. There she performed one of the boldest acts in the history of Allied intelligence — she rescued two SOE agents, Francis Cammaerts and Xan Fielding, who had been captured by the Gestapo. She walked into the prison and spoke to a German officer, relying not only on her charm but also on financial persuasion and the threat of swift retribution once the Allies triumphed. Within hours, the prisoners were free.

Morgane Polanski as Krystyna Skarbek in the film “The Partisan”, directed by James Marquand, 2024, photo: press materials

Krystyna Skarbek never carried a weapon and never used violence. Her weapons were intelligence, courage, and feminine charm. In British intelligence reports, she was described as “irreplaceable,” “brilliant,” and “unpredictable.” She had the gift of winning people over — one moment she could laugh lightheartedly, and the next, look with cold determination, like someone who already knew the price of death.

She was also a master of disguise. When needed, she changed her accent, her walk, or the color of her hair. One day she played a French countess, another a poor refugee. She could infiltrate enemy circles with astonishing ease. Her superior, Colonel Colin Gubbins, once said that he had “never before seen anyone play with fate so gracefully.”

For her service, she was awarded the Order of the British Empire (OBE) and the George Medal — among the highest British civilian honors. To the French, she was a heroine; to the Poles, a legend. To herself, simply a woman who had fulfilled her duty to her country.

After the War – The Loneliness of a Heroine

When victory came, there was no longer a place for people like her. Krystyna was too brave to fade quietly into postwar London and too proud to ask for help. She worked as a stewardess, cleaner, and receptionist — a woman of noble birth who had saved lives, now struggling to survive.

In the Shelbourne Hotel on Lexham Gardens in London, in a stuffy room overlooking a brick courtyard, time seemed to stop. It was there, on June 15, 1952, that she was murdered by a man who was in love with her.

She died as she had lived — beautiful, independent, and untamed. At her funeral in St. Mary’s Cemetery in Kensal Green, only a handful of people were present.

Inspiration for James Bond

Her extraordinary personality — elegance, magnetism, and fearlessness — became an inspiration for writer Ian Fleming, who worked in British intelligence during the war. Fleming knew Krystyna personally and was deeply impressed by her charm and audacity. Many biographers believe that Krystyna Skarbek was one of the prototypes for James Bond, and that her life and adventures also inspired the creation of Fleming’s female characters.

The Legacy of the Skarbek Family

The Skarbek family has vanished from the map of Polish aristocracy — their manors and estates now exist only as names on yellowed maps. But the memory of Krystyna endures. In London, on the wall of the building where she died, a blue plaque reads: Christine Granville – Krystyna Skarbek (1908–1952), Agent of the Special Operations Executive.

Compiled by Joanna Sokołowska-Gwizdka

Blue commemorative plaque unveiled in 2020 by English Heritage at 1 Lexham Gardens, Kensington, London, W8 5JL, Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, source: Wikimedia Commons

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20th Austin Polish Film Festival, Texas

As part of the 20th Austin Polish Film Festival, audiences will have the opportunity to see the film “Skarbek”, inspired by the story of Krystyna Skarbek and directed by James Marquand. The Festival’s special guest will be Morgane Polanski, daughter of Roman Polanski, who stars in the leading role.

You are warmly invited!

https://www.austinpolishfilm.com/

“The Saragossa Manuscript” – the Labyrinth of Wojciech Jerzy Has’s Imagination

The Saragossa Manuscript,” dir. Wojciech Jerzy Has, 1965. As Alphonse van Worden: Zbigniew Cybulski.
Photo: press materials.

A Masterpiece Beyond Time

“The Saragossa Manuscript” (1965), directed by Wojciech Jerzy Has, is one of the most original and enigmatic works in the history of world cinema. The adaptation of the novel by Jan Potocki—an Enlightenment-era aristocrat, traveler, and writer—defies clear classification. It is at once an adventure film, a philosophical treatise, a grotesque, and a metaphor for the human condition and the search for meaning. Has created a complex world in which reality, dream, and fantasy continually intertwine.

The Plot as a Labyrinth

The story unfolds in Napoleonic Spain. Captain Alphonse van Worden (played by Zbigniew Cybulski) travels through the Sierra Morena mountains, where he experiences a series of extraordinary adventures. He encounters Arab princesses, Kabbalists, bandits, scholars, noblemen, and characters hovering between life and death. Each encounter opens a new story—often embedded within another—forming a tale within a tale structure reminiscent of The Thousand and One Nights or Boccaccio’s Decameron.

Has leads the viewer into a labyrinth of narratives, where stories nest inside one another, characters continually shift roles, and the boundary between illusion and reality dissolves entirely. The result is a kind of metaphysical theater of the world, in which humanity seeks to understand its own identity.

Time and Space – The Philosophy of Has

Wojciech Has was a filmmaker who treated cinema as an art of memory. In his films, time does not flow linearly—it becomes a collage of memories, dreams, and mental states. In The Saragossa Manuscript, time loops back on itself, and space transforms. The protagonist returns to the same places and encounters the same characters, as if taking part in a ritual of repetition.

This is a cinema about the impossibility of escaping the labyrinth of one’s own consciousness. There is no true beginning or end—only a constant unveiling of new layers of reality. Has uses this form to challenge faith in a logical order of the world and to portray the human being as an existence caught in a state of eternal cognitive wandering.

“The Saragossa Manuscript,” dir. Wojciech Jerzy Has, 1965. Photo: press materials.

The Character of Alphonse van Worden

Van Worden is a quintessential Hasian hero—lost, uncertain, and suspended between worlds. Zbigniew Cybulski, known for his iconic role as Maciek Chełmicki in Ashes and Diamonds, undergoes a complete transformation here. Instead of rebellion and action, he conveys constant wonder, his face reflecting bewilderment before the mystery of existence.

In van Worden’s character lies a universal symbol: a human being in search of the absolute, continually confronted with new illusions. His journey becomes a spiritual initiation—a passage from naïveté to knowledge, though this knowledge is never complete.

The supporting cast includes Leon Niemczyk, Iga Cembrzyńska, Bogumił Kobiela, Gustaw Holoubek, and Elżbieta Czyżewska—each adding a distinct tone to the film’s mosaic of meanings.

The Aesthetics and Style of Has

The Saragossa Manuscript is also a visual masterpiece. Cinematographer Mieczysław Jahoda crafted images rich in symbolism, color, and light, evoking the atmosphere of the Spanish desert, mysterious caves, and opulent palatial interiors. The set design by Jerzy Skarżyński borders on the surreal—the décor seems to belong more to the realm of dreams than to that of reality.

Has, a master of cinematic space, builds tension through rhythm and repetition. The viewer feels drawn into a ritual, a journey not so much across Spain as through the human mind. It is no coincidence that the film is often interpreted as an allegory of the artist’s life and the human condition in a world devoid of final answers.

“The Saragossa Manuscript,” dir. Wojciech Jerzy Has, 1965. Photo: press materials.

The Film’s Philosophy – On Knowledge, Identity, and Illusion

The Saragossa Manuscript is a film about knowledge as an infinite process. Has asks whether it is possible to reach truth if every story only leads to another, and every truth turns out to be part of a greater illusion.

The film can also be read as an allegory of representation itself—and thus, of cinema. Each scene becomes a screen reflecting another screen, just as cinema reflects upon itself. In this sense, Has was ahead of his time—his film anticipates postmodern reflections on narrative and consciousness.

The Meaning of the Journey

Wojciech Jerzy Has created a film that cannot be fully understood—it can only be experienced. His protagonist, like each of us, seeks truth but discovers above all the infinity of interpretation. The Saragossa Manuscript thus remains not only a cinematic masterpiece but also a parable about the human mind, forever wandering through the labyrinth of imagination.

Reception and Legacy

When it premiered in 1965, the film met with mixed reactions—praised for its originality yet criticized for excessive complexity. Only years later did The Saragossa Manuscript become a cult classic. Admirers such as Martin Scorsese, Luis Buñuel, David Lynch, and Francis Ford Coppola championed it; thanks to their involvement, the film was restored in 1999, bringing it back to international audiences.

Today, The Saragossa Manuscript is regarded as one of the greatest achievements of Polish cinema. It belongs to the tradition of metaphysical films that—like Fellini’s 8½ or Tarkovsky’s Stalker—transcend genre boundaries to become philosophical meditations on the nature of existence.

The Saragossa Manuscript,” dir. Wojciech Jerzy Has, 1965. Photo: press materials.

Screenings with Live Music

Although The Saragossa Manuscript by Wojciech Jerzy Has was made in 1965, the film continues to inspire new generations of artists. One of the most remarkable forms of its reinterpretation has been screenings with live music, held in recent years both in Poland and abroad. These events give Has’s work an entirely new dimension—it becomes not only a film but also an audiovisual spectacle, where image and sound together create a hypnotic experience.

The original score for the film was composed by Krzysztof Penderecki, already a renowned figure of avant-garde music at the time. His composition combined classical instrumentation with unsettling sonorities and experimental effects, perfectly capturing the film’s dreamlike and labyrinthine atmosphere.

Contemporary musical projects inspired by Has’s film have taken this idea even further. During the 50th Polish Film Festival in Gdynia, a screening with live music took place at the Witold Gombrowicz Municipal Theatre. On stage performed the group Małe Instrumenty, known for their sound experiments, together with the Elbląg Chamber Orchestra conducted by Katarzyna Tomala-Jedynak. Their task was exceptional—the original Penderecki score had not survived in full, so the musicians reconstructed it note by note from archival recordings. Among the guests was Wanda Ziembicka-Has, the director’s widow.

“The Saragossa Manuscript,” dir. Wojciech Jerzy Has, 1965. Photo: press materials.

Meeting of Eras

Such events create a remarkable bridge between past and present. Audiences, seated in a cinema or concert hall, become participants in a new cinematic ritual—an experience in which the classics of film meet the living energy of contemporary music.

These screenings confirm that Has’s film continues to inspire—not only directors and critics, but also composers and performers. The Saragossa Manuscript thus lives on, not in a museum, but in the space between the arts.

Compiled by Joanna Sokołowska-Gwizdka

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20th Austin Polish Film Festival, Texas

As part of the 20th Austin Polish Film Festival, audiences will have the opportunity to see Wojciech Jerzy Has’s masterpiece The Manuscript Found in Saragossa.
We warmly invite you to join us.

https://www.austinpolishfilm.com/

Sounds of Freedom: Michał Urbaniak Remembers Zbigniew Seifert.

September 11, 2017, Łódź, Klub Wytwórnia, 11th edition of the Urbanator Days 2017 music workshops. In the photo: Michał Urbaniak, photo by Łukasz Szeląg

As far as I remember, I met Zbigniew Seifert in the mid or late ’60s during a jam session at one of the clubs in Warsaw. At that time, Zbyszek was collaborating with Tomasz Stańko. He was a quiet guy, playing the saxophone. Later, he also started playing the violin, just like me – sometimes combining both instruments.

Polish jazz musicians formed a real family back then – a group of somewhat crazy and courageous people. We played jazz essentially against the system because it was banned as an imperialist influence in the communist country. Music was our whole life at the time. This clearly reflects Zbyszek’s creativity and his work. He even released an album titled Passion.

We first played together in the radio jazz orchestra in Warsaw and then had numerous jam sessions. Recordings were rare because they were controlled by the state record label. We played side by side on saxophones – he on alto and I on tenor, as well as on violins.

Seifert chose a very difficult and ambitious path, inspired by John Coltrane. He created many great pieces in this direction during his time playing jazz violin. You can hear Coltrane’s playing concept, vibe, and energy in Zbyszek’s improvisations – it’s something that comes from different periods of Coltrane’s music. Playing that kind of music isn’t easy; it’s very demanding. To start, you have to be an excellent violinist. At first, it was like a journey into the unknown.

Most of us started with the violin as children. I assume Zbyszek’s path to the saxophone was similar. He fell in love with the saxophone, just like I did, and began playing it. But later, his music became more complex and open, so the violin eventually became his second instrument, and then his primary one.

Zbigniew Seifert, photo by press materials

Both instruments are truly important to me. If I were to compare our approaches, I play more like a saxophonist, while Zbyszek played like a brilliant violinist, deeply rooted in the jazz and cultural spirit.

In the 1960s, we were already traveling abroad, mainly to Germany, although some of us also went to England and the Netherlands. I remember our performances at the Berlin Jazz Festival and other festivals – his playing was extraordinary, even grand. We also recorded together in Germany, and our project was supported by Joachim Ernst Berendt, a well-known jazz critic and producer. He also helped promote Zbyszek and his music.

After some time, I permanently moved to New York and didn’t hear much about Tomek Stańko or Zbyszek Seifert. Then suddenly, Zbyszek appeared there, recording several sessions with outstanding New York musicians like John Scofield and Jack DeJohnette. When Zbyszek arrived in New York for his first recordings, many very famous musicians were excited about him and supported him. It naturally developed from there – the music found its way to the musicians, there was simply no other possibility.

His playing, especially on the violin, was something entirely new – no one had ever gone in that direction before. It was extremely difficult and demanding, but Zbyszek was also a superb classical musician, which helped him push boundaries and achieve what he aimed for. He was a workaholic, a humble person, and his life revolved around music, constant practice, and performing.

Over time, Seifert not only developed his style but also became a leading figure in that genre of violin music. He has numerous solo albums, group recordings, and live performances to his name. The album Man of the Light was a breakthrough for him and for us as well. That album is excellent; we all listen to it more often than others. He worked every day; I remember how he would practice, play solos, and constantly improve – he was truly a dedicated artist.

Album cover of „Man of the Light”

In recent years, I have served as a jury member at several competitions named after him, and I have noticed that many young European musicians emulate his style, both in rhythmic jazz and in the improvised European music that Seifert also performed and recorded. Moreover, playing his music is technically demanding on the violin. I have heard many incredible young virtuosos who can play in Seifert’s style. The competition rules require performing one of Seifert’s pieces, and most participants bring his spirit into their playing – people from the Netherlands, Japan, this year’s Italian violinist, and many others. Truly fantastic young violinists. Many of them can play in his style, but some also choose a more traditional approach, returning to swing and mainstream jazz.

As Coltrane once said: “Don’t imitate me, I’m searching.” Seifert was also searching for his own sounds, and so many years after his passing, he remains a source of inspiration because he was authentic.

Interview: Jacek Gwizdka

Edited by: Joanna Sokołowska-Gwizdka

The documentary film „Zbigniew Seifert: Interrupted Journey” will be shown on November 8, 2024, during the Austin Polish Film Festival:

The 100th Anniversary of Władysław Reymont’s Nobel Prize for "The Peasants”

The 1905 portrait of Władysław Reymont by Jacek Malczewski is available on the digital collection of the National Museum in Warsaw at cyfrowe.mnw.art.pl

Joanna Sokołowska-Gwizdka

On November 13, 1924, Władysław Reymont was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature for his monumental novel “The Peasants.” This four-volume epic, which Reymont wrote between 1901 and 1908, was published in installments in “Tygodnik Illustrowany” from 1904 to 1909. The novel’s action spans ten months—from September to July at the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries—and is set in the small village of Lipce. It is divided into four parts, each reflecting the cycle of nature: “Autumn,” “Winter,” “Spring,” and “Summer.” The renowned literary critic Kazimierz Wyka emphasized that Reymont created a unique work in Polish literature, one that not only tells the story of the peasants’ lives but also faithfully captures their mentality, customs, and worldview. In his analysis, Wyka noted how the author constructs the depicted world through the rhythms of nature, cyclical agricultural work, the changing seasons, and festivals that dictate the rhythm of the characters’ lives. “The Peasants” is also a study of universal human emotions and conflicts—love, jealousy, greed, and the struggle for power—giving the novel a timeless and universal character.

Władysław Reymont, circa 1897, photo available at the Polona Digital Library

Władysław Reymont, born on May 7, 1867, as Władysław Stanisław Rejment in Kobiele Wielkie, within the Russian Partition, spent his youth during a time when Poland was divided among three empires. Artistically connected with the Young Poland movement, he drew inspiration from the lives of ordinary people and the Polish countryside. In his works, such as The Promised Land and The Comedienne, he portrayed not only the beauty but also the hardships and injustices that were the daily realities of his characters. Before becoming a writer, Reymont worked as a railway laborer and an actor in a traveling theater, experiences that later inspired his literary work.

The Nobel Prize in Literature, awarded for “the most outstanding work of an idealistic tendency,” recognized Reymont’s epic narrative and his realistic and poetic depiction of rural Polish life. However, the Nobel Committee’s decision in 1924 was unexpected. Although Reymont was respected in Poland, his fame did not match that of other candidates, such as the German writer Thomas Mann, the Russian playwright Maxim Gorky, or the 1915 French Nobel laureate Romain Rolland. In addition to honoring the literary value of The Peasants, the prize for the Polish author also had a political dimension—it highlighted international recognition of Poland, which regained its independence in 1918 after 123 years of partition.

Reymont, who had long struggled with health issues, including a heart attack, did not receive the news of the award with excessive enthusiasm, aware that it might be his last great achievement. He passed away a year later, on December 5, 1925, at the age of only 58. In letters to friends, he wrote about the “irony of life”—on one hand, worldwide fame and recognition, and on the other, the battle with illness that prevented him from fully enjoying his success. Due to health reasons, he was unable to personally accept the award in Stockholm; instead, it was received on his behalf on December 10, 1924, by Alfred Wysocki, the then-Polish diplomatic representative in Sweden. The monetary prize, amounting to 116,000 Swedish crowns, helped the writer with medical treatments and provided financial security for his family.

On August 15, 1925, Władysław Reymont visited the small village of Wierzchosławice near Tarnów at the invitation of Wincenty Witos. In honor of the writer, a grand harvest festival, known as the “Reymont Harvest Festival,” was organized. In the photo, Władysław Reymont (center) is pictured with his wife on the honorary platform

Reymont’s success was a source of immense national pride for Poles, especially in the context of rebuilding the state after regaining independence. Newspapers such as Kurier Warszawski and Rzeczpospolita published enthusiastic articles, praising the writer’s talent and the significance of his work for Polish national identity. Reactions abroad varied—some critics expressed surprise that the prize was awarded to a lesser-known author. German newspapers, such as the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, emphasized that Thomas Mann, the author of Buddenbrooks, was more deserving of the distinction. The Swedes, however, believed that Reymont brought freshness and authenticity to European literature, fully justifying their choice.

On November 22, 1924, Warsaw’s Tygodnik Illustrowany published an article titled “The European Press on Reymont.” The article revealed how deeply Europeans were engaged with literature at the time and how moved they were by the news of the award. There were extensive articles about the author (some newspapers dedicated entire issues to Reymont) as well as critical essays on The Peasants and brief informational notes. Tygodnik Illustrowany also published a letter from Romain Rolland:

Thank you very much for sending me the French translations of your two books. As for The Peasants (Autumn), I hold it in the highest regard. What a fertile and rich land. (…)

Happy is the one who, like you, is not merely a laborer of books (as Goethe said, the more one writes or reads such books, the more one becomes a book himself!)—but is instead the land itself—his own land, in the full cycle of the four seasons!

I congratulate you, I congratulate not just you but your entire nation through you. I rejoice that Poland has you, and I thank you for allowing me the privilege of knowing you.

Believe me, dear Mr. Władysław Reymont, that I am fully devoted to you with all my admiration.

Romain Rolland

The widespread popularity of Reymont’s epic led to numerous translations and publications of The Peasants worldwide. Reymont himself was invited to attend meetings at literary societies across Europe. On June 6, 1925, Tygodnik Illustrowany published an article titled “The Worldwide Fame of Reymont,” in which the author discussed the many invitations the writer accepted during the spring of 1925. Although Reymont had been unable to accept the Nobel Prize in person, these later travels benefited him. The color returned to his cheeks, and a smile reappeared on his face, along with his former energy. During this period, he frequently heard that the literature he created had become a part of the world’s cultural heritage. American newspapers expressed gratitude that the Nobel Committee had recognized this previously lesser-known yet truly brilliant author.

A banquet was held on May 15, 1925, by the France-Poland Society and the Société des Gens de Lettres in Paris in honor of Władysław Reymont (second from the left). To the writer’s right sits the French government representative, Minister de Monzie, and to his left, the president of the French Society of Writers, Legolfic. Photo published in Tygodnik Illustrowany, June 6, 1925

A hundred years after being awarded the Nobel Prize, The Peasants remains one of the most significant works of Polish literature. The novel has inspired numerous film, theater, and television adaptations, including the latest animated painting version, which has received acclaim both in Poland and abroad. The Peasants continues to be studied by literary critics and scholars who analyze its social layers as well as the symbolism of nature and the life cycle.

In the context of global climate change, Reymont’s message about the harmony between humans and nature takes on new relevance. The themes of returning to tradition, defending local cultures, and preserving agriculture in the face of globalization are presented in The Peasants in a way that remains both timely and thought-provoking.

“Tygodnik Illustrowany”, June 6, 1925

Polish Nobel Prize Laureates in Literature:

• Henryk Sienkiewicz – 1905

• Władysław Reymont – 1924

• Czesław Miłosz – 1980

• Wisława Szymborska – 1996

• Olga Tokarczuk – 2018

Sources: Wikipedia, TVP, Culture.pl, NobelPrize.org, Tygodnik Illustrowany, collections of the University Library in Łódź.

G A L L E R Y

Photo by J. Sokołowska-Gwizdka

Between 1888 and 1893, Władysław Reymont worked as a railway guard for the Warsaw-Vienna Railway and lived, among other places, in Lipce in this house located by the railway crossing. Photo by J. Sokołowska-Gwizdka

The house of Władysław Reymont in Lipce Reymontowskie. It was here that the writer set the action of The Peasants. Lipce (now Lipce Reymontowskie) served as inspiration but are not depicted exactly as they appear in the novel. Photo by J. Sokołowska-Gwizdka

Lipce Reymontowskie, a historic peasant cottage located within the Władysław Reymont Museum, photo by Joanna Sokołowska-Gwizdka

The Władysław Reymont Museum in Lipce Reymontowskie, photo by J. Sokołowska-Gwizdka

The Władysław Reymont Museum in Lipce Reymontowskie, photo by J. Sokołowska-Gwizdka

The PEASANTS official trailer

Trailer on youtube

Feast of Fire - A Film about Happiness, Ambition, and Secrets

A conversation with director Kinga Dębska, conducted during the 48th Polish Film Festival in Gdynia.

Feast of Fire

A Film about Happiness, Ambition, and Secrets

Joanna Sokołowska-Gwizdka: During this year's festival in Gdynia, your latest film, adapted from Jakub Małecki's novel, qualified for the main competition. What inspired you in the book to bring it to the screen?

Kinga Dębska: The journey began when the producer, Piotr Dzięcioł, reached out with the offer. While I generally lean towards crafting films from my own scripts, I thought, "If you have this book, send it to me." At that time, I was in Zakopane, recuperating from a harsh bout of COVID. After reading it, I felt as though I'd received a story that demanded to be told.

Considering your previous films and their thematic undertones, which significant social issue is underscored in this film?

Kinga: This film is complex, akin to a box of chocolates; its essence is hard to encapsulate in a single theme. It's undeniably about happiness and the universal right to it, including for the disabled. The narrative touches upon movement and stillness, ambition, advocacy for oneself, lingering secrets from the past, and much more. To me, at its core, it's about the concept of letting go. Genuine maturity is attained when we can release ambitions that hold us back.

In the film, Anastazja, a disabled girl, communicates non-verbally. Yet, she guides us throughout the story.

Kinga: That's the essence of cinema—it offers windows into worlds and perspectives we might overlook. Here, we're granted insight into the inner realm of someone with cerebral palsy. Their life can be rich, vibrant, and they can find genuine happiness, much like our ever-smiling protagonist.

Your prior films exemplify thorough research on the subjects portrayed. Was that approach maintained here?

Kinga: Indeed. I ventured into two realms I was initially unfamiliar with before directing this film: ballet and disability. We held extensive consultations with disabled youths. We had to devise a communication system for the actress, determining her movements and demeanor. Zuzia, a perpetually smiling girl in a wheelchair, inspired our character. Both Paulina Pytlak, who played Anastazja, and I engaged with Zuzia regularly, questioning her about her emotions and happiness. It emerged that she might well be the happiest among us.

The character of Anastazja sounds like it posed a formidable challenge for the actress.

Kinga: Precisely. Paulina showcased immense dedication. To embody the physical nuances of a physically disabled person, she engaged in intensive training. Her commitment ran so deep that post-filming, she found walking challenging. Her passion profoundly impacted me. We arranged for post-filming massages to facilitate her recovery. I was also vigilant about her emotional well-being. This being her debut significant role, I'd hope she isn't pigeonholed into similar characters in the future.

Anastazja's on-screen sibling, Łucja (Joanna Drabik), is an accomplished ballet dancer.

Kinga: Yes, Łucja is associated with the Polish National Ballet. We emphasized authenticity, showcasing real ballet halls, stages, and a troupe of international dancers. Our collaboration involved the Teatr Wielki in Warsaw for dance sequences, and the ballet ensemble hailed from Opera Nova in Bydgoszcz.

"Feast of Fire" appears to emphasize determination, with both Łucja and Anastazja displaying an innate drive to overcome their physical confines.

Kinga: True. Yet, their fervor occasionally borders on excess, manifesting repercussions. It's a universal truth that overburdening our bodies has consequences.

The narrative is emotionally layered. The selfless father, portrayed by Tomasz Sapryk, emerges as a pivotal character, brimming with love and patience for both daughters.

Kinga: But he's not depicted as a martyr, and that's deliberate. Although the weight of responsibility is palpable, he remains resilient, avoiding self-pity. If professional therapy is beyond reach, he embarks on a self-learning journey.

Kinga Preis

Józefina, the neighbor played by Kinga Preis, brings a different dynamic.

Kinga: Józefina is not without her struggles. Yet, she cloaks her pain with a veneer of joy. This facade, the perennial "keep smiling" mindset, resonates deeply with me.

Your films have consistently tackled pressing societal issues. What's the takeaway you anticipate for this film?

Kinga: My aspiration is that it nudges viewers towards greater empathy. Whether addressing racial differences or disabilities, the underlying message is acceptance. In the film's denouement, everyone dances in unison—a symbolic affirmation that the world shines brightest when diversity thrives in harmony.

Crisis Point

A conversation with the screenwriter - Marcin Ciastoń.

Marcin CiastoŃ (Photo by Agata Murawska)

Joanna Sokołowska-Gwizdka: Mr. Marcin, during this year's Polish Film Festival in Austin, Texas, we are showing the psychological thriller "Wyrwa," inspired by Wojciech Chmielarz's novel. How was your experience adapting this novel into a screenplay?

Marcin Ciastoń: Producers Joanna and Paweł Wernikowie, along with director Bartosz Konopka, brought me on board for this project. Before that happened, I of course read the book and quite quickly thought of an idea for it. Intriguingly, I found echoes of myself in the main character, especially in the contemplative "what if" moments. We rarely think about our relationships at crisis points, we prefer not to imagine it. That was enough for me. One of the more important decisions and changes from the original, which the film's co-creators accepted, was moving [SPOILER] the funeral of the hero's wife to the end of the story. The book plays it out differently. I wanted all his actions to be driven by the desire to know the truth before this event. This required me to rearrange some sequences to achieve a coherent story. I wanted to stay as close to the original as possible and I hope that despite these changes, I achieved that.

In the film, the journeys and experiences of the characters are revealed progressively, painting a profound psychological portrait of each individual.

Every novel and every film are not just events, but primarily emotions, so even if the characters don't say the exact same words, and things don't happen to them at the exact same moments as in the pages of the novel, it's the emotions that convey the essence of the story. That was my idea. I also proposed a way to get into the hero's head through his imaginations about the accident, which recur several times, in different versions. We also talked a lot with the director about the convention of the story – the story is dramatic, but we looked for moments that would give the audience a breath and highlight the relationships between the characters. This led us to elements of humor. The film blends intense seriousness with moments of levity. Many of these comedic elements were further developed on set, in the heat of shooting, in the director's vision. Of course, the work went through many versions of the script, long conversations and collective reflection on the journey that our characters go through. I introduced certain ideas to the script during the pre-production period – both the selected locations and actor readings turned out to be very inspiring.

In “Wyrwa”, the seamless blend of humor and tension captivates viewers, often leaning more towards creating suspense than amusement. How do you strategically intensify this tension throughout the script? And how do you navigate the characters' intricate narratives, ensuring they resonate authentically while melding humor and tension?

Scriptwriting can be likened to a game – sometimes it's like piecing together a puzzle, at other times it's akin to playing Jenga or solving a sudoku. One wrong move and something is off; you must go back, erase, correct. Writing is rewriting, so as we get to know the characters better - this journey is a bit like forming new relationships, usually with fictional people - we begin to understand what drives them, what they fear, what pleases them. And we put them to the test, put them in situations they'd rather not be in, to see how they'll cope. In the case of "Wyrwa", these elements were already present. The task was to extract their essence and create a unique "dish", like a MasterChef dish, heavily inspired by the original, often faithful, but perhaps affecting different senses. There's of course a plan – before I start writing, I get to know the characters, define them, identify them. Sometimes this comes out in the scenes because they might do something unexpected. Often, it's analyzing their behaviors, thinking about it, playing the psychologist. I'm fascinated by this duality of creativity, because as authors, we need knowledge but also to be deeply inside the characters' heads – put them in various situations and observe them from the inside. It fascinates me.

Sometimes novel authors are so attached to their text that they aren't willing to accept changes. However, literary language and film language differ significantly. How did you collaborate with Wojciech Chmielarz?

At the beginning, I felt some stress because it was the first time I was adapting another author's story, especially such a well-known and respected writer. But there were no restrictions imposed on me. I had freedom; I could suggest, and at worst I would face rejection. But most often my suggestions led to discussions and finding the direction the director wanted. After reading the script, Wojtek sent his comments which were valid, but they didn't really interfere with the text. I really value such trust, also from the director and producers. My rapport with Wojtek was stellar, a connection that extended even after the conclusion of my assignment. We even recorded an episode together in his podcast series "Crime on Monday", where we discussed the differences in our work, and most importantly, we celebrated the film's premiere together. It was indeed heartening to read Wojtek's laudatory remarks about my screenplay in subsequent interviews.

When writing the screenplay, did you envision the cast?

Not right away, but indeed quite early, which is rare. Initially, there was talk of the dream cast of producers and the director. Maybe I got a bit influenced by that. I often try to imagine a character, even if not as a known actor or actress, then someone I've seen somewhere or know. When the cast was confirmed, I was very pleased. It was an honor for me to write a script for such great talents. Reading the script with them later was also very helpful. I could refine details and supplement the script with how they see their characters. The rest is the magic that happens on set.

Photos by Robert Palka

Do you prefer working on a film script that originated in your imagination, or on an adaptation of a book where the plot is already set?

There are many great stories written by authors that can be told in a new way, given form, conveyed with emotion. It's no less of a creative achievement, and I'm ready for such challenges. But I will certainly never stop working on original ideas. Creating a world and characters from scratch has an incredible allure, and it will always be my first instinct. I will always prioritize searching for stories around and within myself.

You made your debut with the excellent film “Operation Hyacinth”, based on a true story about the gay community during the times of the Polish People's Republic. You received an award for the script during the Gdynia Festival. Which other films for which you've written the script are particularly close to your heart?

I'd rather mention a TV series waiting for its premiere, for which I wrote several episodes. I had the pleasure to work on the story for the entire season together with its creators, Agnieszka Szpila and Dominika Prejdova, and our head writer Katarzyna Tybinka. It's a unique project that combines supernatural and crime elements with historical and family drama. I love such combinations. A unique project and very inspiring collaboration – “Black Daisies”, which should be available this year in Poland on Canal+.

 What are you working on now?

I'm writing a series that must remain a secret for now. Apart from that, I'm developing two feature films with directors – one story is set during World War II, the other in Latvia in the 1960s. This seems to be my calling, as in both cases we're experimenting with a genre that isn't straightforward, seeking new forms for often familiar content, of course trying not to break rules where they are necessary.

Looking at the Hollywood writers' strike, do you feel the threat of new technologies, such as ChatGPT, to your job?

I believe that in Poland, regulations regarding AI are also necessary, especially when it comes to using cultural resources and intellectual property for AI training. The solutions developed by the Writers Guild of America are, in my opinion, optimal. It would be a cruel paradox if a program trained on the creative works of creators ultimately eliminated them from the job market. However, I think we need to come to terms with the evolution of our profession. I'd rather think of it as the emergence of a new tool, like the Internet was invaluable for research. Getting to know a scriptwriter's browser history is often an intriguing experience. Currently, ChatGPT serves as a sounding board for scriptwriters, offering inspiration from known concepts. While it often presents familiar solutions, this rapid processing can inadvertently lead to the development of unique ideas.

Polish Posters Conquer the World

An exclusive interview with graphic artist – Patrycja Longawa, conducted by Joanna Sokołowska-Gwizdka. Patrycja is a winner of over 70 awards in prestigious utility art competitions, and her works have been showcased in 400 exhibitions across 40 countries around the globe. (More posters! and the Polish language version of this interview is also available on CultureAve.com)

Joanna Sokołowska-Gwizdka: Patrycja, you crafted an outstanding poster for us to announce the 18th Polish Film Festival in Austin. Its originality and meticulous detail stand out in every aspect. It not only meets the design expectations but also captivates attention, making it hard for anyone to simply walk by without taking notice. What inspired you to delve into applied graphics?

Patrycja Longawa: I think I "caught the bug" for this passion during classes in Design Studio II at the University of Rzeszów under Dr. Wiesław Grzegorczyk, professor at UR. It was there that I created my first works and fell in love with applied graphics.

Sokołowska-Gwizdka: Are there any poster designers who have significantly influenced your education or served as mentors?

Longawa: At this point, I should introduce two masters. The first is Professor Stanisław Białogłowicz, under whom I did my bachelor's in painting. During his classes, I learned to consciously use color, composition, and form. The second person I'd like to mention is the previously mentioned Dr. Wiesław Grzegorczyk, professor at UR, under whose supervision I designed my first posters. His feedback and corrections, as well as the fact that he himself is a poster artist, greatly motivated and inspired me, which ultimately led me to pursue posters professionally.

Sokołowska-Gwizdka: You reside and practice in Rzeszów, yet you've garnered international acclaim. With over 400 exhibitions, both domestically and at several esteemed global venues, along with numerous awards, what do you attribute this phenomenal success to?

Longawa: It's hard for me to answer this question because I must judge myself. I believe that my desire for self-development and the immense amount of work I put into it played a significant role. Of course, I realize that, in many cases, hard work alone is not enough, and sometimes timing matters. Additionally, thanks to my painting studies, I understood how essential an individual artistic language is, which allowed me to develop my own recognizable poster style.

Sokołowska-Gwizdka: Do you think you have found a universal language of communication that is able to be perceived across all cultures? 

Longawa: I wouldn't make such unequivocal statements. Yes, posters are among the few media that allow reaching many recipients regardless of nationality. A good example might be a social poster. However, we should remember that many factors influence the clarity of the message, and it's not always possible to standardize it.

Sokołowska-Gwizdka: Which award was the most surprising for you?

Longawa: It was the award from the Moscow Global Biennale of Graphic Design Golden Bee from Russia in 2020 in the main POSTER UNLIMITED category. Golden Bee is one of the most prestigious poster competitions in the world. To put things into perspective, the organizers mentioned that approximately 30,000 posters were submitted to the competition that year.

Sokołowska-Gwizdka: Being from the younger generation, you've grown up in an era of ubiquitous computer access. While the computer might be your primary tool, do you still enjoy tactile interactions with paper, experiencing color and space in reality rather than just on-screen?

Longawa: Absolutely. I frequently start with preliminary sketches using traditional methods, like pencil on paper. I've also made test prints occasionally to verify colors or to select the appropriate paper type for my posters.

Sokołowska-Gwizdka: Is designing posters, for you, art, or artistic craftsmanship?

Longawa: It's a combination of these fields, as a poster combines both worlds.

Sokołowska-Gwizdka: Do you think the rapid advancement of technology poses a threat to creators?

Longawa: We're witnessing an unprecedented surge in the development of artificial intelligence, which could potentially threaten many creators. Those most at risk might be emerging artists who are just starting their journey in the art world. However, I'm of the belief that genuine art can stand its ground. I also feel that many will continue to commission posters from seasoned artists due to their immense artistic value.

Sokołowska-Gwizdka: We are eagerly awaiting the exhibition of your posters, which will soon take place at the AO5 Gallery in Austin, Texas. We are proud that young Polish creators are conquering the world.

 Interviewed by: Joanna Sokołowska-Gwizdka 

Poster for the 18th Austin Polish Film Festival by Patrycja Longawa,