First was the word (review of ZERO, a film by Paweł Borowski)



ZERO, the début film by Pawel Borowski, is another example of the ongoing crisis in Polish screenwriting. What good is excellent direction, cinematography, acting or sound production – even if it is the best of its kind – if the most important organ in the body of the film – the script – is poorly thought through?


It’s not possible, thanks to its unusual narrative construction, to compress the plot of “Zero” down to a few lines. It seems the hub of this multi-layered story is the figure of the director of an unnamed company, who hires two rather wacky, down-at-heel detectives to follow his wife who, as we later learn, has rented a small apartment to host meetings with her lover. To spice up this narrative thread, Borowski dissects it with other plot lines: lingering shots direct our attention towards other characters – a taxi driver, newspaper seller, a nurse, a go-go dancer on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Initially, we follow these with interest, expecting something we haven’t yet seen before. The scope of this strategy brings to mind Anderson’s “Magnolia”, in the distance accentuated with echoes of Iñárritu and Arriaga. We are curious as to how this wildly varied group of individuals will be brought together by the all-powerful screenwriter’s pen.  

Read the rest of this entry »



***




What will you tell me oh Highgate cemetery
through vine-wrapped stones
and you tall Englishwoman riding the Tube
(I would so like to come all over your chest)


what do you really want to know
Chinese chap and you two German girls
when asking for directions to Marx’s tomb
is it not you who should be leading me there
through decaying leaves


Read the rest of this entry »



SAPPHO’S FLIGHT



(a cheeky chant for zombies)



Nobody uses the stropha Sapphica any more,
not even Jacek Dehnel or Różycki,
why do they choose sonnets, when the Sapphic
stanza is sexy?

Top hat, bowler, have more grace?
A pointless hard-on, needless fart and cock in hand
belonging to a dull classicist in the 20th century
and the first, if you like.

Sooner the avant-garde will retrieve the crushed
remains of Sappho from her resting rocks,
dear artistes! Dress the bells,
perhaps you’ll get it up!

Read the rest of this entry »




Kinoteka Film Festival, 2010, triple film review



Let’s start this piece of vicious writing on a positive note. Nothing screened this year could be anywhere near as dire as Andrzej Wajda’s 2007 “Katyn”. I saw it in London last year, rooted to my cinema seat by the sheer awfulness of what I was witnessing – the dead-icon imagery, the sub-soap opera dialogue, the giant waste of the best acting talent Poland has to offer, the paper thin characters, the plot schisms, the editing mess… a few said it was good for Polish school kids to go see some of the history which communists had hidden for several generations, but school kids want their history strong and vital, not dumbed down and deathly dull.

It’s interesting to note none of the delighted reviews in the Guardian or Times or other high-brow publications actually talked about the film – they all focused on Wajda’s losing his own father in Katyn and about the moving theme of the story. Think I’m being insensitive and wickedly arrogant? Be honest, which is more important to you: what’s on at your local cinema today or what battles are being fought in the name of freedom, even as we speak? I sympathise with Wajda’s loss (both of my grandfathers had spent time in Nazi camps, though both survived), but films must be judged on merit and not personal feelings – if you are going to tackle big themes in your work, especially if it is reaching millions of impressionable hearts and minds, serve them well.

Read the rest of this entry »


Forget zombies z przedwczoraj, duchy są czasami ciekawe – świeżo przepisany wywiad ze starego spaceru po Londynie z OFF_ pisarzem i człekiem Piniakiem.


kliknij na foto by spacerować bo jego myślach dalej…




RECORD



I dream of the city and of friends considering
suicide. And my grandmother, in good
shape, centuries younger, saying
she’s moving in with me. (Do I have somewhere
to move out to?). And I’m haunted by the dead,
who I would never dream of doing such things.
They have no answers, but they do know
that soon I will be asking for trouble. For if tenses,
past and future, don’t exist, then I keep sinning
in the same body and spirit. Read the rest of this entry »



A MAGIC TRICK




for Marek Sz.




with that sorry shorter leg of his
so proud of himself,
when he made the jump
he shouted: look, a magic trick!


and then it was necessary to
move into the copper cauldron,
hey, let’s pretend it’s washday!
hide! a magic trick

Read the rest of this entry »


Piotr Siwecki talks with Marek Kazmierski about OFF_PRESS, new books, old stories and more;



PIOTR SIWECKI: OFF_PRESS origins…


MAREK KAŹMIERSKI: Like so many memorable things in the world, OFF_ was born of bad blood. Marcin Piniak and myself (Marcin writing in Polish, I in English) met writing for Nowy Czas, a newspaper printed in London which had ambitions of being the highbrow choice for the emigre Polish community in the UK. Too bad it didn’t happen. We both quit the paper and kept on drinking, moaning, dreaming. But that gets tiresome after a while, so this time last year Marcin, Kinga Pilich (a young publishing student) and myself set up OFF_Magazine, an on-line bilingual literary journal. It was meant to tell as many stories in as many languages (literal, visual, multi-sensory) as we could find, but such big nets are hard to handle. We got submissions from all over the world, some great stuff, some worse than woeful. Then we decided to run an international writing competition, then publish an anthology of the short-listed writers, then make a film to go with it, then run some literary events to publicise the whole shebang… Read the rest of this entry »



NUSCH




Your eyes, in which I journey away


Paul Éluard



Nusch,
who, if not you,
not sight of you,
will let me understand
that the greatest happiness is happiness in the midst of misery?
Who do you think I think of along the streets, in offices, schools
among the pompous, the plain, the unavailable?
Of who in hospital,
among the broken, the sick, the humbled,
where time flowed like tears of piss
into the catheter?


Read the rest of this entry »


Off_Press competition winner Maria Jastrzębska is reading with Poetry Slam winner Bohdan Piasecki and Magdalena Reising will launch her new CD of jazz music on:


April 17th at The Lamb,


36 High Street,


Old Town Eastbourne


BN21 1HH as part of


Word County – click here for the full programme…



CRACKS




Silence. The focus was to be sharp, but the boys ran out of shot.
Waging wars against milk and cats, late already.
Let them be, the set empty but for knives and trainers tossed in the grass.


Read the rest of this entry »



PLASTIC TOYS



It’s winter 1988. The first time I’m home alone
and scared of answering the phone. The model Spitfire
is still drying, its badly set undercarriage
doing the sideways splits. Outside the window, a snowy monument
– night, the lady of both tides. The silence


Read the rest of this entry »



With Down



The Western wind stroked
the horizon, our village suddenly Siberian.
Wires moaning, hair stiffening, extinguished.
I only hope I don’t go the way of the neighbour’s veiltail,
which dissolved in its icy bowl
like a speck of bubbling aspirin.


Read the rest of this entry »



“He has been voted the greatest journalist of the 20th century.”


By the same species which made Simon Cowell and Joseph J Hitler millionaires.


Click on the photo if you want the Guardian to explain…


Think you can do better, write in, we’ll publish it.



LULLABY



“be still be calm be quiet now my precious boy
don’t struggle like that or I will only love you more”



the light bulb like a giant sac
swelling for ages has
broken and spilled all over the walls
its impossibly yellow innards
all is sticky with ease
draws in and unsettles

Read the rest of this entry »


Thursday 4 March, 6-9pm
Ben Pimlot Lecture Theatre
Goldsmiths, University of London
Lewisham Way, New Cross,
London SE14 6NW


The book Bombing of Poems over Warsaw documents a public intervention during which 80 poems by contemporary Polish and Chilean poets were dropped from a helicopter over the Castle Square and The Old Town.

Warsaw is the fourth city after Santiago de Chile, Dubrovnik and Guernica where The Bombing of Poems has taken place. Professor John Hutnyk and Cristóbal Bianchi on behalf of Casagrande will introduce the book.  The event will also feature the screening of a film documenting the intervention in Warsaw.

Drinks will be served.



NOW THE OLD TIMES




And so, what you really want to tell me
is that I am now the old times. Yes,
the present does not correspond to the past,
or, what’s worse, does not let itself be invited
for coffee and cultured conversation.
Read the rest of this entry »

.

Last Thursday of the Month by Deconstruction Project presents

“Made in Polska” music session

.

@BEDROOM BAR, RIVINGTON STREET

.
Thursday, 25 February 2010
.
Time: 20:00 – 23:00
.
OFF_ will be there…



Interview with Piotr Czerwinski – Justyna Daniluk



They say you are the voice of the most recent wave of Polish migration…


That voice means over two million desperados, if I correctly recall the latest statistics. They speak for themselves, with their own voices. In fact it’s more than speech, they shout, though no one seems to want to listen or is pretending not to. I only speak for some, perhaps unwittingly for others, but certainly not in the name of them all. In fact, I’m pretty sure I only speak for myself! But thank you for the compliment. Without reverting to metaphor, I think it’s quite a responsibility, to speak on behalf of others, especially in the name of a vast group of others. Also, belonging to such a group is a challenge. All my life I’ve avoided being “part” of anything like the plague. I’ve never identified with anyone and anything else, refused to make declarations, display emblems, wear ideals on my sleeve. I was afraid my independence would be lost, which is after all not to be surrendered. But it’s only since I emigrated that I finally realised that I do identify with some kind of “crowd”, that I belong to it, and that I’m actually proud of the fact, that it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It happened when I was watching the news on British television and heard a newsreader say something about Poles, maybe even “the Polish problem” in this part of the world, as it seems a few people are fans of this phrase. And then I understood that I am one of these Poles. One of them, one of US. This was hard, trust me, it cut me in half. Being cut in half is another thing which I’ve avoided like the plague, for as long as a I could.

In “Przebiegum Życiae” I pose the question: “Are we different? No, hell, not  at all. Only our surnames are spelt different, but this means nothing, no one can pronounce them anyway, no one apart from us. We are the union of many in one, one person who’s received a collective kick up the arse…”

Read the rest of this entry »