Agnieszka Holland: These Aren’t Good Times for Geniuses

_agnieszka_holland_jakub_wlodek_ag.jpg, default, Agnieszka Holland, photo: Jakub Włodek/AG

‘I dislike classic biographical conventions. They’re usually simplified and hagiographical, and too much faithfulness to the official version inhibits imagination’ – says Agnieszka Holland, admitting that her latest film, ‘Charlatan’, isn’t a classic biography of the Czech healer Jan Mikolášek.

Artur Zaborski: What was your aim when directing ‘Charlatan’?

Agnieszka Holland: I was mostly interested in showing the complexity and multi-dimensionality of reality, to which simple interpretative tricks cannot be applied. I wanted to make a film in which there are more questions than answers, which can be received in a different way by each viewer.

AZ: Watching the film, I had the impression that you’re not even sure whether you’d like to present Mikolášek as a good man or a bad one. But after all, we all like to set clear demarcation lines when it comes to judging someone’s morality.

AH: Especially today, in the times of great polarisation, when everyone entrenches themselves on one side of a conflict, defending their agenda as the only correct and impeccably good one, whereas the other ones represent pure evil. In general, conflict has become the main tool of social communication. It was perfectly visible during the presidential campaign, with the electorates bitterly fighting one another, even though we should all be united against the same serious threats. We’ve started to feed on conflict, cutting reality into two parts, placing the good on one side and the bad on the other. I consider such a binary vision extremely harmful, as the world is much more complex and impossible to divide unambiguously.

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Still from the film 'Mr Jones' directed by Agnieszka Holland, pictured – James Norton, photo: Robert Pałka / Film Production, press materials

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AZ: Do you make films to try and complicate that vision?

AH: Yes, especially in the case of history, whose simplification I find the most disturbing. We can’t see how complicated the past is, we segregate historical figures into heroes and cowards, aggressors and the attacked, victims and perpetrators. We distort history by simplifying it. We turn it into a completely useless fairy tale, with clear distinction into crime and merit, neither of which seems to be tied to any sort of responsibility. The impulse that pushed me to make Mr. Jones was a poll conducted in Russia, according to the results of which Joseph Stalin is perceived as the most eminent Russian statesman. He achieved first place in that ranking.

AZ: It’s absolutely terrifying from the Polish perspective.

AH: It’s as if Adolf Hitler won in Germany. It’s terrifying from the perspective of a citizen of a country where both of these monsters contributed to hundreds of thousands of deaths. This poll made me realise that, from the point of view of history, morality is extremely fragile and idealistic, the main arguments still being efficacy and power. To return to Charlatan – Mikolášek has been almost completely forgotten in his homeland. There’s a chance that my film will bring back the memory of his work. No books or historical studies regarding him have appeared in the Czech Republic. It was his grandnephew who restored the memory of him.

AZ: How?

AH: He gathered all the existing materials concerning him and asked Czech television to produce a documentary, but the scriptwriter who read them claimed they were too scant to make a solid factual film: it would have been difficult to find any witnesses, not to mention archival materials. However, fascinated with the topic itself, he showed the text to the scriptwriter Mark Epstein, and together they concluded that it ought to be turned into a fictional film. This allowed us to present the figure of the healer rather freely, to work our imaginations. It’s certainly not a classic biography.

AZ: Your films about real people aren’t subordinated to details of their lives either.

AH: That’s why I was intrigued by the script of Charlatan. I dislike classic biographical conventions. They’re usually simplified and hagiographical, and too much faithfulness to the official version inhibits imagination. When we entered the film set, hundreds of extras were present there, and it turned out that most of them knew someone who was somehow connected to Mikolášek. Almost everyone had a family member healed by him. His fame in Czechoslovakia was enormous in the 1950s. He had hordes of patients and plenty of unquestioned medical successes. He healed a huge number of people. When Mikolášek was arrested and disappeared from the public sphere, people lost interest in him.

AZ: Did he continue healing after being released from prison?

AH: No, he never returned to it. He dropped out of sight until the early 1970s when, shortly before his death, a journalist encountered him in Prague and conducted a long interview. It’s the last public trace that he left. You’re right when you say that Mikolášek belongs to the constellation of figures who interest me due to his ambiguity, the mystery that surrounds him.

'Charlatan' directed by Agnieszka Holland [gallery]

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AZ: What exactly did you like about Mikolášek?

AH: Like great artists from my other films – Arthur Rimbaud or Beethoven – he possessed huge talent. At the same time, he believed that this talent endowed him with divine attributes of some sort. He didn’t cope well in his relations with the world, most of all in relationships with other people. Individuals like him have a strong sense of mission, but they also can’t accept any of their own weaknesses or breakdowns, refusing to allow themselves to be vulnerable. Narcissism and enormous generosity fight within them. Although Rimbaud, Beethoven and Mikolášek were endowed with very different kinds of genius, they paid a similar price for that gift – the price of loneliness.

AZ: Do you observe something like that in any contemporary artist?

AH: We’re not living in times of great geniuses. Although my environment is full of talented people, I can’t see anyone who would transcend all norms and borders, who considers themselves God. It’s among politicians that I can see narcissistic monsters, but they don’t contribute anything beautiful or good to the world, don’t broaden any horizons.

AZ: Why is that so?

AH: We don’t have any sense of agency, so it’s difficult for us to consider ourselves gods. Public opinion, in turn, confuses artists with celebrities; they’re easy to deprecate, especially for the authorities, who would like to exchange the elites for their own, obedient ones.

AZ: Are you talking about yourself now?

AH: No, about the status of the elites in general. Recent years – worldwide, but particularly in the United States and Poland – have brought a growing wave of populism that resulted in special and talented individuals being treated with hostility and contempt by the authorities and partly by society. Conservative mediocrity is more desirable. Indeed, these aren’t good times for geniuses.

AZ: I’m asking you about contemporary artists because at Berlinale, where ‘Charlatan’ had its premiere, you said during a press conference that, while constructing the character of Mikolášek, you were inspired by Kevin Spacey.

AH: I was inspired by certain elements of his life and personality. When I talked to Ivan Trojan about how to create the character of Mikolášek, we came to the conclusion that the two figures have some things in common. They both know they are particularly gifted, and they share their gifts with the world. In effect, they can allow themselves to do things that wouldn’t normally be acceptable. At the same time, they’d like to present a perfect, immaculate image of themselves. That’s why they conceal what they consider a taint, which is their homosexuality. Of course, in the case of Mikolášek it was also related to the legal situation, as homosexuality was penalised in his day. Kevin didn’t have to worry about that, but he had concealed his identity up until the scandal induced by the #MeToo movement.

AZ: Mikolášek received a warning before he was attacked by the system. He didn’t take the opportunity to escape, though.

AH: Putting himself in a position of hunted prey wasn’t an option for him. Besides, he was terrified that he wouldn’t be able to heal. Healing people was the only thing that provided him with mental stability. When he was deprived of it, he stopped controlling his aggressive, angry impulses. That’s why he was afraid of change. He felt safe when he could follow a routine, which became sort of an addiction for him – an addiction that kept him in check.

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Agnieszka Holland during the premiere of the film 'Charlatan', 70th Berlin International Film Festival, 2020, photo: Beata Siewicz / Zuma Press / Forum

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AZ: Do you believe in routine?

AH: I’ve got a friend who spent a year in prison for political reasons when he was young. He looks back on this period with fondness, considering it a test of his inner discipline. He exercised regularly, performed repetitive tasks. Now, during lockdown, he started to act exactly the same.

AZ: What was the effect?

AH: His various sorrows and depressive tendencies have ceased completely. Although I also know people who couldn’t handle the lockdown at all. They have awful memories of it. They couldn’t make themselves start doing anything they had planned, as they suddenly had so much time. They were unable to focus. Not to mention those who had to be with their children all the time, taking care of them, helping them with homework. Their reactions were extremely varied. Personally, I think that routine is what puts our reality in order, as evidenced by the abundance of cultural rituals we submit to – the way we organise mourning, for instance. My rhythm is completely different when I work on a film set than when I travel.

AZ: How did you handle the lockdown, then?

AH: I’m among the lucky ones for whom the lockdown was a good thing. For the first time in years, I got something like a few months of holiday. I worked remotely, of course, but I stayed at my country house in Brittany. I’d always dreamt of just being there, unburdened by the necessity to leave soon. The imposed lockdown allowed me to make this dream come true.

AZ: When it comes to cinema, why are you so drawn towards the past?

AH: ‘The past is never dead. It’s not even past’ – said William Faulkner. I also have the impression that the past is still present in our day. We mull over it constantly, updating certain things. I’m interested in psychological, political and social mechanisms, which is what connects my most recent films. They show, for instance, that as a humanity we keep going in circles, with similar emotions, fears, temptations, mechanisms of evil, hate, violence recurring cyclically. Certain things keep repeating themselves, even when we think that some sort of progress or enlightenment has eliminated them from our social organism. It turns out that it isn’t so.

AZ: Does that mean that history could repeat itself?

AH: Today’s Poland is disturbingly similar to Poland right before World War II. A type of nationalism appropriated by the almost neofascist far right, using the same rhetoric and symbols as they did back then, as well as the importunate propaganda of success, trying to make us believe that we’re better than anyone, and all that’s evil comes not from us but from allegedly threatening others. Jews, refugees, LGBT+ people were all turned into scapegoats by the authorities, as well as by the Roman Catholic Church, which cooperates with both the authoritarian government and anti-Christian sects. Because of that, by making a film about the late Second Republic, one can basically make a film about contemporary times. But I didn’t intend to raise alarm with Charlatan. That was my design while making Mr. Jones.

Embedded artist

Agnieszka Holland

Language English

agnieszka holland

Mr. Jones

contemporary polish cinema

historical film

polish film