CZERWONY BARSZCZ

CZERWONY BARSZCZ from Media 12345 on Vimeo.

From a list of voice recordings I made during the week I was in Szydlowiec with my grandmother. This voice recording was the one that stood out to me the most and I what I personally found my favourite. Although the story is generally sad, there are parts that are comical creating a bitter sweetness that I am very fond of.
My original plan was to remake the voice recording with my mother to make the Polish clearer as well as not have any background noise. However, I tried a sample editing footage with the original voice recording and I thought it wouldn't be the same if I had remade it. My grandmother speaks a very primitive Polish however has a way of telling her stories, which is what saved the original voice recording.
The background noise is from the television. As a child I watched Reksio, a Polish children's cartoon programme, so my grandmother left it on for me whilst talking about her childhood.

The footage begins with the main square of Szydlowiec of the tower playing bells. Along with an old woman walking into the square. The footage then goes on to observe the traditional houses of Szydlowiec with dogs guarding at the gates. But if anything they were the most gentle dogs that would just stare and be happy to be stroked. I wanted to include the dog in the snow outside the house because I thought it was a nice representation of the story to come. A lonely dog in the snow with a warm house just next to it. Another small dog barking outside eventually sneaking back under the gate. My grandmother left with her sister whilst her father is away leaving her nothing. She tries to make a nice Sunday lunch but her sister would rather beg to her neighbours for a better food. The only thing my grandmother wanted was her mother who made a meal and a warm home.
The next scene is in my grandmothers flat with curlers in her hair watching the television (Reksio). There is then a sequence of her in the kitchen sharpening a knife and cutting a fish (Carp).
I included these scenes because I wanted to show a traditional routine in Poland during the winter time. But it also included my grandmothers routine as a widow living alone.
I had asked her the previous day to go to the graveyard which she agreed on as she hadn't been there in a while. So I filmed during the walk there as well as her routine in the graveyard.
There is around 30 minutes of footage I had taken in the graveyard that I had to pick from. So I picked the few that made a mini narrative of simply lighting up the candles with a small prayer at the end. I wasn't sure whether to translate the ending of the prayer but I decided to translate the only part you could hear because its almost an intrusion into her present life even though it had nothing to do with the story of the past.
The most noticeable editing was with the music. My grandmother asked me a question and it didn't sound right with music playing on top. So I edited the music to play as she tried to light a match but stopped as soon as it was noticeably not lit until she tried again. The music would then play when the match had finally lit until the moment she closes the lid of a candle lantern and asks me a question. She then finally places the candle into the other lantern putting the lid into place which then continues the music once again.

Plan of Sequence: CZERWONY BARSZCZ

Plan of Sequence

Czerwony Barszcz

SHOT 1:

Medium Long Shot

Main Square/Tower

Sound: Bells ringing

SHOT 2:

Long Shot

A woman walking into the square

Sound: Bells ring/choir singing

SHOT 3:

Long shot

Cross road with religious cross gated in the centre

Sound: Distant bells ringing

SHOT 4:

Long shot

Old wooden Polish house gated with dog sitting outside

Sound: Another dog barking with birds in the background

SHOT 5:

The other dog (smaller and black) running and sliding under a gate

Sound: Birds

SHOT 6:

Long shot

Door frame with Marta inside sitting on a chair watching television

Sound: The television (Reksio)

SHOT 7:

Close up

Marta sitting watching the television with curlers in her hair

Sound: The television and Marta beginning to narrate

SHOT 8:

Long shot

The television playing

Sound: Television and narration

SHOT 9:

Close up

The television of cartoon playing

Sound: Television and narration

SHOT 10:

Medium long shot

The kitchen, Marta preparing food

Sound: Television and narration

SHOT 11:

Medium long shot

The kitchen, Marta sharpening knife

Sound: Television and narration

SHOT 12:

Close up

The kitchen, Marta cutting carp

Sound: Television and narration

SHOT 13:

Medium close up

The kitchen, carp placed in bowl

Sound: Television and narration

SHOT 14:

Medium long shot

Hallway of block, Marta walking down the stairs

Sound: Television and narration

SHOT 15:

Medium long shot

Hallway of block, Marta walking down the stairs

Sound: Television and narration

SHOT 16:

Close up

Marta walking

Sound: Television and narration

SHOT 17:

Long shot

Marta walking in the distance

Sound: Television and narration

SHOT 18:

Long shot

Marta walking into the distance (graveyard)

Sound: Television and narration

SHOT 19:

Medium close up

Marta lighting candles

Sound: Television and narration

SHOT 20:

Medium close up

Marta walking with plastic bag

Sound: Television and narration

SHOT 21:

Medium shot

Marta lighting candles

Sound:

Television and narration ending

Lighting match but not lit - music begins playing then stops

Finally lighting match - music begins playing again

SHOT 22:

Medium close up

Marta walking with plastic bag

Sound: Music

SHOT 23:

Medium close up

Marta lighting candles

Sound: Music

SHOT 24:

Close up

Marta lighting candles and stops to ask me a question

Sound: Music playing until Marta puts the lid on a lantern, then music stops

Marta asks me a question twice

Marta places candle in lantern placing lid on top which begins music again

Shot 25:

Medium close up

Marta standing and fixing lantern

Sound: Music ends and Marta begins to pray which has sounds of mumbling

Theories

Barthes

Enigma Code

(Hermeneutic)

Enigma Code - The Hermeneutic Code refers to any element of the story that is not fully explained and hence becomes a mystery to the reader.

As a story is being told, the enigma is mostly in the visual present time as the narration and visual narrative does not match.

Plan of Sequences: TO OSTATNIA NIEDZIELA

Plan of Sequence

To Ostatnia Niedziela

  SHOT 1:

Main character/documentary narrator: Marta Zytnicka

Long shot facing downwards

Putting on a pair of shoes

Sound:

SHOT 2:

Medium close up shot

Unfolding a scarf

Sound:

SHOT 3:

Medium close up shot

Closing the door to her home

Sound: Marta begins to talk (answering a question not in the sequence)

Background music (sounds as if maybe from radio or television) the beginning of the song

To Ostatnia Niedziela by Mieczyslaw Fogg

SHOT 4:

Medium shot

Walking down the stairs from behind Marta

Sound: Marta still talking about past (answering question)

The music (from radio or television) still playing

SHOT 5:

Medium shot

Walking down the stairs from behind Marta

Checking mail opening door

Sound: I ask question, she answers

The music turning down



SHOT 6:

Long shot

Following Marta walking

Sound: Non - Diegetic sound of the song To Ostatnia Niedziela by Mieczyslaw Fogg

playing throughout film

SHOT 7:

Long shot
A man and his dog walking into their home

SHOT 8:
Long shot
Marta walking around into an unnamed street/alleyway

SHOT 9:
Long shot
Marta walking

SHOT 10:

Medium close up shot

Marta walking

Shot is slowed down

SHOT 11:

Long shot

Mini river with ducks

Slow panning movement finally tilting upwards

SHOT 12:

Medium long shot

Marta walking ahead to the graveyard

(religious crosses behind wall ahead)

Sound: The song finally ending

Theories

Barthes

Enigma Code

(Hermeneutic)

Enigma Code - The Hermeneutic Code refers to any element of the story that is not fully explained and hence becomes a mystery to the reader.

The narrative to this short sequence is not fully explained as the camera only observes the actions of an individual as she dresses and walks to an unknown destination. It is only suggestive as Marta walks beyond the camera to what looks like religious crosses behind a wall in the ending shot. This could be a graveyard.
What was asked of her to talk about is also unknown and the audience are only given the information they get as visuals are not connected to the narration.

And what she talks about is in past tense while the visuals document the present.
The Enigma Code applies to Pawel Pawlikovki's film form in Ida, which my film is heavily influenced by.

"The film I was after would be made of strong graphic images and sounds. It would work through suggestion rather than explanation."

"I was more convinced the story could tell itself without coverage and exposition. It was enough to put strong moments in strong shots, side by side, and leave things to the imagination. The film would work as a meditation as much as a story." - Pawel Pawlikovski

This style of narration along with the cinematography overall becomes a mystery to the spectator as detail is left to the imagination.

For example, Marta walking along she constantly turns around to the camera. What could she be looking at. Or where is she walking to.

Where is the man she is talking about now?

The long shot of a man and his dog is shown, this could be another suggestion to the man she is talking about. The fact that he could be anywhere but a mystery as he and the man in the sequence is unknown.

Cultural Code

The cultural code tends to point to out shared knowledge about the way the world works, including properties that we can designate as "physical, phycological, literary, historical, etc."

The short film is a documentary based around the culture of Poland. However, consists of personal memories, dreams and childhood which creates a different perception and knowledge to Polish culture. With additional observation of the town and its local people and traditions.

To Ostatnia Niedziela

To Ostatnia Niedziela from Media 12345 on Vimeo.

This is an experimental clip using a section of footage of my grandmother walking to the cemetery. I layered the footage with a conversation I had recorded between the two of us, I had asked her if she loved Mieczyslaw Żytnicki (my grandfather) and she had replied "No". So I asked if there was anyone she had ever loved and so on...(the conversation in the clip).
The television was on in the background and I personally don't like the sound so I recorded the beginning of my grandmothers favourite, Mieczyslaw Fogg's song 'Ostatnia Niedziela'. To ostatnia niedziela (Polish: This is the Last Sunday; 1935) is one of the long-time hits of Jerzy Petersburski. A nostalgic tango with lyrics by Zenon Friedwald describing the final meeting of former lovers just before they break up, it was performed by numerous artists and gained the nickname of Suicide Tango, due to its brooding lyrical content.
Although an exaggerated link, I think its the only suitable genre and time of music that fits with the theme of my documentary film. As well as Fogg being my grandmothers favourite.
I recorded the beginning to make it sound as if it was coincidently playing during the conversation as well as drowning out the sound of the television. I then added the official song to the film when the conversation ended, following her walk to the cemetery including slow footage of the surrounding nature. What I also noticed and liked was the fact that she kept on turning around unsure on what I was doing (I didn't tell her that I was making a film).

Paweł Pawlikowski Edit

"The film I was after would be made of strong graphic images and sounds. It would work through suggestion rather than explanation. It would mainly consist of self-contained scenes, done from one angle, in one continuous take, with no informational dialogue, no functional shots, no plot devices or any of the usual tricks cinema uses to suggest or elicit emotion. A film in which form, emotion, idea would be one."

" I was more convinced the story could tell itself without coverage and exposition. It was enough to put strong moments in strong shots, side by side, and leave things to the imagination. The film would work as a meditation as much as a story. The key was to choose one angle, the most effective shot, and then to work and rework all the elements: framing, light, dialogue, movement, gesture. Adding, taking away, refining from take to take, until the thing had the right life and rhythm. This meant forgetting the script and treating each scene and each shot as a thing in its own right."

CMENTARZ from Media 12345 on Vimeo.
This is some experimental editing and filming during a visit to the graveyard in Szydlowiec. I created the sequence in the style of Pawlikowski's film Ida, the framing, Polish culture, religious character and suggestive narrative. The film focuses on identity which is one of the key themes in my short film. The song I included is sung by a Polish man (Paweł Prokopieni) in the late 1930s but is singing a Russian song (Веровочка), this is because my grandmother is a fan of his music.

Ida (2013)

Ida (2013) Directed by Paweł Pawlikowski

In 1962, Anna is about to take vows as a nun when she learns from her only relative that she is Jewish. Both women embark on a journey to discover their family story and where they belong.

Framing the Faith of Ida from Steven Vredenburgh on Vimeo.

The Guardian

How we made Ida: Paweł Pawlikowski on the journey from script to film

• The accepted logic of most film producers is this: you buy a book or an idea, then hire a screenwriter – in Britain, usually a converted playwright – who then turns it into a three-act structure, puts in some twists and lots of dialogue, and hands you a 90-page script. Next, you hire a director, who brings in his “vision”, attracts some cool actors, and breaks scenes into shots; and then you get a DP who photographs the thing as artfully as the story will allow. Then comes the editor to speed things up or slow them down, cover up holes, and sort out loose ends. The product at the end is more or less what was planned at the start – and with the right cast, soundtrack, journalistic hook and promotion it should make money.
• I’ve always had a problem with this approach. I never went to film school, never learned the rules, and started out by making documentaries, which I usually shot and moulded as I went along. I began with an idea, a character, a situation; then threw all sorts of things into the mix – scenes, images; some found, others invented. Then I shook it all up – complicated, simplified – until I found the film. These films were neither documentaries nor fictions; they were strange hybrids that felt like the best and the simplest way I could express a complicated truth.
• With genre films, where the audiences enjoy familiar mechanics and conventions, it was obviously another matter. But those kind of films have never interested me. Not as a film-maker, anyway. What excited me was the journey into the unknown – or, rather, to some place you know and intuit, but you don’t yet quite know how to get to. After all, this is how art works in every other area, and nobody objects. If you’re a novelist, poet, painter or composer, you just lock yourself away and work on the thing, for a week, for a month, for a year – put the thing aside if you need to – and finish when you think it’s ready
• It was the sort of script you could raise the money on, but definitely not the film I wanted to make. Not just because of our over-written dialogue, dodgy plotting and dramatic wishful thinking, but because what I was after was a different kind of film altogether, one for which it would have been much more difficult to attract any funding. The film I was after would be made of strong graphic images and sounds. It would work through suggestion rather than explanation. It would mainly consist of self-contained scenes, done from one angle, in one continuous take, with no informational dialogue, no functional shots, no plot devices or any of the usual tricks cinema uses to suggest or elicit emotion. A film in which form, emotion, idea would be one.
• In the “financier” script for Ida, the film opened with a scene of three nuns making a scarecrow in a field and a series of generic dialogue scenes, setting up the situation and the characters. It was OK as beginnings go, but it was clear we needed something stronger. A day before filming in the monastery, I noticed our art director, Jagna Dobesz, a woman with an angelic face and character, touching up Christ’s face with her brush. There was such tension and love in her face as she was doing it that I knew I had a much better scene right there in front of me.
• In fact, I had a whole sequence of scenes. This is how the sculpture of Christ, which started out as one of several props in the monastery, became the key image. It was much better for Ida and for the film than the business with the scarecrow we had contrived in the script. The unexpected snow was another bonus. It gave me the idea for two graphic top shots and the quiet moment of prayer around the fountain.
• This way, pages of dialogue scenes and fluffy non-events were replaced by a series of shots that were simple, powerful and set up the tone of the whole film perfectly. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not against good dialogue. But I can’t bring myself to film dialogue that’s there merely to colour in the characters, give information, and has no music to it.
• In the financier script, there were five scenes showing Ida’s first encounter with the big city. They included her getting lost; talking to a policeman; going into a shop; listening to music; observing hip young people; couples kissing. These four pages of generic script shrank into these two shots.
• With each day of filming, I was more convinced the story could tell itself without coverage and exposition. It was enough to put strong moments in strong shots, side by side, and leave things to the imagination. The film would work as a meditation as much as a story. The key was to choose one angle, the most effective shot, and then to work and rework all the elements: framing, light, dialogue, movement, gesture. Adding, taking away, refining from take to take, until the thing had the right life and rhythm. This meant forgetting the script and treating each scene and each shot as a thing in its own right. Ewa, who was in the trenches with me, joked that I was writing the script with the camera. She didn’t seem to mind and clearly liked the results.
• I wanted to make the viewer enter the film in a different way, experience it as a kind of permanent present that unfolds in front of them. I was aware, of course, that most viewers might not enter this kind of film at all and leave the cinema after five minutes.
• Putting static shots side by side and stripping things down forces the viewer to watch and listen differently; it asks them to fill in the gaps and not to expect to have things explained. It allowed me to drop dud scenes and lines without damaging the story. On the contrary, the method actually helped me find the story, or rather to home in on its best, its only possible shape.

Chantal Akerman

"Akerman's cinema focuses our attention on her smallest gestures, gestures that reveal character but would be lost in a more flamboyant film: a knife that almost slips when a potato is peeled, a light turned off unnecessarily, a facial expression of disquiet or of frustration, the curious act of making coffee in a thermos in the morning for drinking at lunchtime. The effect of such details, repeated and ritualized, is cumulative. Slowly the portrait is pieced together." Jayne Loader