On Paradoxes of Humour in New Polish Comedy

wszyscy_moi_przyjaciele_nie_zyja.jpg, default, Still from 'All My Friends Are Dead' by Jan Belcl, 2020, photo: Aurum Film/Netflix

#film

Adored by audiences – undermined by critics. New Polish comedy is full of paradoxes. Unappreciated during film festivals, it remains an outcast from serious films. Let’s take a closer look at the strangeness of this phenomenon.

In the last days of 2020, Netflix released the tragicomedy All My Friends Are Dead, directed by Jan Belcl. Needless to say, it caused heated discussions on internet forums and fiery arguments amongst critics. The New Year’s Eve comedy – filmed in Poland by two Slovenian filmmakers and financed by Mitja Okorn – caused various conflicting opinions. Some people, like for instance Michał Oleszczyk, considered the film one of the boldest and freshest comedies of the past few years. Others couldn’t figure out who allowed the film to be produced. While some viewers loved it for its unpretentiousness and frivolous character, others couldn’t think of any positive comment – not even one.

Well yes, but actually no

Video embed

Wszyscy moi przyjaciele nie żyją | Oficjalny zwiastun | Netflix

Such a variety of reactions should be no surprise, especially in a time when film criticism relies on radicalism and is expressed by giving a thumbs-up or thumbs-down. Yet, this situation was quite strange. Both sides of the conflict picked up the same elements of the plot to present them as both advantages and disadvantages of the film. This preposterous situation made the film producer publish several posts on his social media in which he made fun of both his critics and defenders. They seemed to be discussing the film from two completely different perspectives.

This schizophrenic experience is known to many producers of Polish comedy, which is the most controversial film genre. Rating most crime stories, thrillers, or dramas usually results in a clear-cut verdict; it was either a great success or a complete disaster. But there are no easy ways to assess comedies. One’s sense of humour is extremely personal. What makes one person laugh out loud for hours will make others feel mortified. The same scene will make one spectator burst out with laughter and another one squirm.

Picture display

standardowy (864px desktop)

Still from 'Testosterone' directed by Andrzej Saramonowicz & Tomasz Konecki, 2007, photo: ITI Cinema Sp. z o.o.

Picture image

testosteron_film_d.jpg

Adam Saramowicz, the director of two ironic and commercially successful Polish comedies about the battle of the sexes, Lejdis and Testosterone, surely knows what a divided audience means. Both of his comedies awakened many disputes amongst their viewers. Even today, whenever he writes a critical article concerning the productions of his fellow directors, negative comments appear, reminding him about his ‘pathetic pseudo-comedies’. Comedy doesn’t make compromises. Even though it is dedicated to the wider public, it has to fit into individual preferences. One thing is for sure: comedy can’t make everyone happy.

To the point of absurdity

With this example, we’ve only begun our journey with paradoxes in Polish comedy. There is much more. The next example concerns false popularity. For many years, comedy has been treated as an outcast from serious films. There is a tendency in Polish film schools to teach future filmmakers that comedy is a ‘money-maker' or ‘potboiler’. It seems like the easiest thing in the world. So why isn’t the Polish film market overflowing with comedies?

Video embed

Mały Zgon - oficjalny zwiastun nowego serialu Juliusza Machulskiego | 4K

The answer is very simple: because of the high level of difficulty. For a director, comedy is like a firing range: you can’t please everyone, so you need a clear vision of what you want to say and how to make it funny. There are neither simple rules nor schemes here. What used to create a great comic effect years ago has already gone down in history. Let’s recall the latest productions of Juliusz Machulski, who used to be the master of Polish comedy. Over the years, he attempted filming good comedies but ended up with such productions like Volta or Little Death (originally: Mały Zgon). Even though they were built on the same foundation as iconic films like Vinci or Killer, they left audiences completely indifferent.

Nothing’s certain

Nowadays, Polish comedies (especially romantic comedies) are produced either by experienced directors who know their craft or by those new to the industry. And for the latter, it’s a hard nut to crack. Take for instance Grzegorz Jaroszuk – one of the most interesting young comedy filmmakers. His spectacular Frozen Stories (originally: Opowieści z Chłodni) took us to a world full of freaks, neurotics, and outsiders, and achieved great success. In 2014, he made his debut with the feature film Kebab & Horoscope. Here, Roy Anderson meets Aki Kaurismaki; you can spot some elements of Czech absurd, and also feel tenderness for the characters. Such a combination should be a great hit. Unfortunately, it’s not. For this reason, the director had to wait until 2020 to produce his next film – Loved Ones (Bliscy), which premiered at the Gdynia Film Festival.

Picture display

standardowy (864px desktop)

Still from 'Loved Ones', directed by Grzegorz Jaroszuk, 2020, photo: press materials from the producer of Mental Disorder 4

Picture image

bliscy_.jpg

The above story should warn other debutants that nothing’s certain in comedy. What’s more, the Polish film industry doesn’t provide much financial support for beginners. It’s more probable to receive funds for a so-called ‘difficult film’ than for a comedy. When you produce a psychological drama, it’s way easier to face the fact that your income will be average. But when you make a comedy, everybody expects fireworks to go off.

Words of praise should go to the filmmakers and producers who, despite everything, started their careers from making comedies. For instance, Aleksander Pietrzak – the young, talented creator of Julius, brought a bit of absurdity to the Polish romantic comedy. His film was produced thanks to Michał Ciaciński and Radosław Drabik. A few years ago, the producers earned a fortune on their film Planet Single, which professionalised Polish commercial cinema. Unfortunately, such great success wasn’t in the cards for Julius. Yet, 400,000 viewers is still a good result for a debut comedy with artistic aspirations.

Amongst those who entered the cinematic industry thanks to their comedy projects, there are Paweł Maślona with his daring Panic Attack and Tadeusz Śliwa with The Strangers (originally: [Nie]znajomi). In the past few months, they were joined by Michał Grzybowski with his very unsuccessful, low-budget Beloved Neighbours (originally: Biały Potok). The film, starring Marcin Dorociński, Julia Wyszyńska, and Dobromir Dymecki, did not receive enough appreciation during the Film Festival in Gdynia.

The holy grail

Video embed

MISZMASZ CZYLI KOGEL MOGEL 3 - oficjalny zwiastun

Ask Polish producers what they look for on the screenplay market, and you’ll hear: a good comedy. Comedy films or series are fast-moving, highly desired products. One year ago, the Polish Canal+ organised workshops on comedy at an early stage. The workshops Canal+ Series Lab were created to throw shark nets over young screenwriters.

Comedy is a safe product for both cinematic and television producers. It’s easy to find investors who, believing that the film will bring big audiences and high income, are ready to help with the promotion strategy and find financial support. Decision-makers in television are easily convinced by the fact that a comedy series is much cheaper than a full-blooded crime story or action series.

However, Warsaw’s cinematic financial rankings from the last decade show that comedy is definitely not the safest investment one can make. Whilst Polish romantic comedy sets the tone for the Polish box office, a standard comedy is not as powerful. Although Mishmash: Kogel Mogel 3 brought 2.4 million people to the cinemas in 2019, it was an unusual occurrence rather than a proof of genre’s popularity. In the earlier years, romantic comedies ruled cinematic ratings. In the top 10 of the most-watched films in 2018, you could find four rom-coms, and in the ones from 2016 and 2017 – three.

Franchise & all that jazz

Video embed

PLANETA SINGLI 3 - oficjalny zwiastun najlepszej komedii na Walentynki

The Polish market has learned to exploit comedies by labelling them as either romantic or Christmas-themed family stories. It’s no coincidence that Polish comedies about love have become dominated by… franchise. Both Planet Single and Letters to Santa (originally: Listy do M.) had sequels. Polish producers learned very quickly that comedies sell the best when you follow the rules from abroad. That is why most romantic comedies fight for the audience’s hearts around St Valentine’s Day, whilst ‘Christmas comedies’ warm up spectator’s hearts in the festive atmosphere of December.

Yet, there is no perfect timing for releasing standard comedies. Anyone who follows the box office rankings knows that selling a comedy doesn’t belong to the easiest tasks. Every year, ‘franchise’ romantic comedies beat the records with a million spectators. Some of them get even twice as many viewers. Meanwhile, non-romantic comedies have to be content with success in the form of 700 viewers. This number was achieved by both parts of Screwed Up (originally: Wkręceni) by Piotr Wereśniak. A slightly smaller audience watched Just Friendship by Filip Zylber and The Strangers by Tadeusz Śliwa. About 740,000 tickets were sold for These Daughters of Mine by Kinga Dębska. Another record-holder, with 860,000 viewers, is 7 Emotions by Marek Koterski – one of the saddest comedies released in the last decade.

Ruled out by humour

The Polish public loves sad comedies. Comedy-drama films get as many viewers as rom-coms. Take the above example of Dębska’s These Daughters of Mine, which is a very personal story about family, conflicts, and death of the loved ones. By turning this drama into a humorous story, Dębska found the key to the Polish audience’s hearts. Her inexpensive production was a double success. Thanks to the amount of tickets sold, it became one of the most profitable projects of the last decade and achieved huge artistic appreciation at the Gdynia Film Festival. A similar success was achieved by Marek Koterski, the master of Polish comedy. In his film 7 Emotions, he presented an extremely sad story but at the same time managed to amuse the audience, which guaranteed his commercial success.

This leads us to the conclusion that humour in Polish cinema can bring a film to financial victory, but it may also rule out other films. The Polish film industry treats comedies as products for mass consumption. There is great respect amongst Polish directors for sad stories. According to Polish film schools, a director should be an artist, a prophet, and only later a craftsman. And here’s the problem: comedy needs craftsmen and can easily verify their skills.

Through tears

Picture display

standardowy (864px desktop)

Still from '7 Emotions' directed by Marek Koterski, in the photo Michał Koterski and Maja Ostaszewska, photo: Kino Świat

Picture image

kadr_z_filmu_7_uczuc_marka_koterskiego_na_zdjeciu_maja_ostaszewska_michal_koterski_fot_kino_swiat.jpg

To avoid marginalisation, both new and experienced Polish directors go for comedy-dramas. It gets them a large audience and opens the door to film festivals. That is what happened with both Paweł Maślona, the creator of Panic Attack, and Tadeusz Śliwa. After all, The Strangers turned out to be something more than just a remake of an Italian hit.

Poland specialises in sad comedies. They combine a sense of humour with an existential heaviness which doesn’t let them to be easily excluded from the film industry. In contrast to standard comedies, comedy-dramas don’t go unnoticed by festival juries.

Waiting for the end of the pandemic, Polish filmmakers have set their hopes high on comedies. They believe that comedies will be able to bring the filmmaking industry to life. We can only hope that the invasion of new comedies will include something more than mere romantic stories and introduce the new masters of humour worthy of Machulski, or even Bareja.

Originally written in Polish, Jan 2021, translated by Sylwia Sienicka, May 2021

Language English

mitja okorn

jan machulski

cinema films

contemporary polish cinema

contemporary polish film

contemporary polish filmmakers

contemporary polish films

filmmaker

polish filmmakers

polish filmmakers of the 21st century

young polish filmmakers