What could this mean? A desire to cosy up? Unbearable loneliness in decline? On the contrary, such behaviour signifies repentance. For this is what it is all about! It is a tacit admission of guilt (of an immoral life) in which there is a request for forgiveness.
Therefore, I tell you, her sins,
Which were many, have been forgiven;
Hence, she has shown great love.
But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little. (Luke 7.44-47)
Subsequent biblical tradition presents Mary of Magdala as the equal of the apostles, the isapóstolos. It was she who discovered the empty tomb of Jesus, and finally, it was she who spoke to him immediately after the resurrection. Perhaps the Son of God wanted to pass on to her the difficult knowledge that, in order to be completely reborn, one must die to and in this world. This would then be a continuation of the moral instruction that their meeting in the house of Simon the Zealot gave rise to.
In the cinema
On the surface, Girls to Buy is a film about the same thing – the redemption of guilt through suffering. However, it is not so obvious. It is not until the final scenes of the film that a warmer light is shed on the story. Beyond them, a dark, depressing picture is lurking.
Somewhere in the north of Poland, seventeen-year-old Emilia (Paulina Galązka) dreams of the red carpet, flashing lights, a red dress, cash, fame and oysters. She wants to appear on the covers of colourful magazines. Soon, Dorota, a pimp (a convincing role by Katarzyna Figura), appears by her side and argues that the world of pleasure can be quite well-organised and profitable. Each service has a price tag in it, a bit like in a shop: 'blow job', intercourse, head, 'railway man style', 'threesome' – everything has an individual price. Kisses are the most expensive (two thousand quid). Emilia halves her name and becomes Emi. She changes her hair colour and clothes, learns to walk in stilettos, and enters her new life with the enthusiasm of a neophyte, fully engaged. After all, as Dorota says, you only live once.
In this film, beautiful Polish women – ambassadors of gutter-flowing Polishness – spread around with Arabs for money, like in the song by Budka Suflera, only harder. They, however, often see it quite differently. 'Remember,' says Marianka (Katarzyna Sawczuk) to Emi, 'it’s not them who fuck us, but us who fuck them'. 'Either you’re a shy girly from a backwater place who thinks her body is a temple of shagging, or you’re a girl who enjoys life and makes the most of it,' – adds Dorota, Marianka’s mother. 'Guys are cunts; there is no love' (Emi sometime later). We find quite a lot of similar statements, which are an amalgam of cynicism and girlish naivety, in this film.