By: Erin Bendig

What Pawel Pawlikowski’s black and white film, “Cold War”, lacks in color, it makes up for in mesmerizing intimacy. Visually stunning and achingly beautiful, this Polish film is a romance of love and loss. Pawlikowski’s masterpiece encapsulates a love that spans over a decade. A longing, heart swelling romance, but one that’s not without gripping sadness, passion, and pain. Juxtaposed by the harshness of Cold War Poland and the looming Soviet government is the warmth of a yearning infatuation not confined by time or space.

“Cold War” is a further testament to Pawlikowski’s directorial and storytelling abilities. In 2015, he was awarded with the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film, for his film “Ida”, also starring Joanna Kulig. As with Ida, each frame of “Cold War” is thoughtful and picturesque, built within the confines of a 4:3 aspect ratio. It is pleasing to not only eye and ear, but also heart. There is no wonder why Pawlikowski is nominated for Best Director in the upcoming Oscars, and “Cold War” will be a nominee for Best Foreign Language film.

The film begins in Poland, 1949, as an older man plays a stringed instrument and sings a folk tune amid sprawling snow. Beautiful scenes of the surrounding landscape accompany Wiktor, a musician, and his associate Irena, as they travel across the country in hopes of creating a troupe, searching for singers and dancers to perform Polish peasant music. Among the many to audition is Zula, immediately drawing Wiktor in with what he calls her “energy” and “spirit.” Soon, she is a captivating presence, most of all to Wiktor, as she sings and dances on stage. The culmination of their mutual infatuation is unknown, as Pawlikowski does not dwell on the story’s details, apparent through the 88-minute runtime of the movie. However, the full details of the story are of lesser importance than the chemistry between Zula and Wiktor, one that is palpable and exudes off the screen.

It does not take long before Wiktor and Irena’s associate, official emissary Kaczmarek, facilitates a deal allowing the Soviet government to spread propaganda through the troupe. This leads Wiktor and Zula, while on a government funded tour to Berlin, to plan an escape. However, when Zula never follows through, what ensues is a tragic romance characterized by periods of bleak separation, and once reunited again, intimate passion.

Separated into vignette’s, each one advancing every few years and in a new country, the pacing in the film is precise. Scenes end abruptly, or they begin after a brief black pause, comparable to a choreographed dance, or a well-timed song, of which “Cold War” contains much of. The music in the film is astonishing and encompassing, and develops with the times as the years go by, all of which parallel Wiktor and Zula’s relationship. Mimicking the relationship of Wiktor and Zula further, with its simultaneous closeness and longing, is the way Pawlikowski places his figures on screen. They’re located at the bottom of the frame, with much space behind and above them. At first, this creates a sense of closeness, but in the end, leads one to feel a sense of separation, as focus is drawn to the larger world around the characters.

These characters are played by actors delivering stunning performances, with an on-screen chemistry that is far from contrived, a nod to Pawlikowski’s directorial abilities. The performances are natural and believable, and often portray strong feelings without, at times, even the need for dialogue. Talented are those who can convey swells of emotion with just a look, and Joanna Kulig (Zula) and Tomasz Kot (Wiktor) do just that. 

Overall, “Cold War” is a moving story about a love that is not confined by time or place. At its core, although bleak, it is a film about heart. A masterful juxtaposition of pleasure and pain, it’s stirring, tender, and captivating. Pawlikowski’s romance puts the warmth, so to speak, into the Cold War.