Writer and Director: Maciek Hamela
Seen from the window of a car, framed by the driver’s head and a length of black wire, a woman wipes away tears. She is wearing a brown coat with gold buttons and a headscarf with pink roses on it. Four-year-old Sacha’s beloved Granny has just said goodbye. This is just one of many affecting images in Maciek Hamela’s compelling documentary.
Hamela volunteered to drive Ukrainian refugees to safety before he had the idea of making the film. This is documentary at its purest – simply a camera in the car recording conversations and scenery. There is no commentary, apart from a couple of news items and a brief note of historical context. Antoni Lazarkiewicz’s music is beautiful but unobtrusive, until it emerges in a lovely chorus at the end. The only political view expressed is a rude message about Putin scrawled on a board at a checkpoint. The focus is all on the people, and what the war has done to their lives.
The film highlights issues peculiar to this conflict. We hear a radio announcement that people fleeing to Poland are exempt from Covid restrictions. A boy tells Hamela that school is all online now, and he misses contact with teachers and friends. Then we hear from a remarkably cheerful young woman, who, travelling with her own two children, is in the middle of a surrogate pregnancy. Because of its helpfully drafted laws, Ukraine has been a popular choice for parents seeking a surrogate. The war has thrown everything into confusion. With her hometown no longer safe and her local clinic closed, the woman is being helped by ‘William’ – she has never met him, but the agency gave him her number and he is arranging everything. She’s even looking forward to seeing Paris . “It’s such a – you know -opportunity,” she says happily , as the van rattles through her war-torn country.
War is devastating for children, and In the Rearview provides plenty of evidence. It also allows us to witness small but perhaps unforgettable interactions. Seven-year-old Vala is scornful of Sacha because he just says “I know” to everything.( His mother explains that he’s never been to kindergarten.)Then they both get excited when they see the sea. They want to “come back in the summer and jump right in.” Five-year-old Sofia, “permanently afraid of planes” and worried that her baby brother will have to be a soldier, becomes a kind of mentor to Sanya, who hasn’t spoken since a bomb destroyed her home. When we leave them they are laughing and making wolf noises together.
“We’re laughing now, but we were crying then,” says a woman, recalling a terrifying bus journey during which Russian soldiers abducted a boy. Hamela allows occasional comedy to slip through the cracks. On a hot summer day Viktor, in a black singlet, nurses an iron (a relatable object – the sort you can imagine getting from Argos). His wife demanded that he bring it. She’s already left with the rest of the family. Then she calls. “Holy cow,” he grumbles, like a mid-century comic, “One minute you’re yelling at me to leave and then you’re telling me to open and shut stuff.” Perhaps the English translation makes it funnier, but you can’t help laughing when Hanna breaks off from her story of ID card problems with “Oh, my cat needs to go to the toilet.” The other passengers are extraordinarily helpful and polite. This is a brief respite. Hanna has more to tell, and it is not funny at all.
Editor Piotr Oginski allows images to speak for themselves. At one point we just see a succession of portraits, passengers sitting three abreast, each lasting just long enough for us to register their faces. In an underground shelter a cat looks as anxious as any of the humans. Hamela himself is mainly present as a voice or hands at the steering wheel. Here is a film director dealing with real world problems. In one unforgettable journey the van becomes a makeshift ambulance for a seriously injured woman. He’s given X-rays and instructions for changing a catheter bag . He also has the job of arranging an ambulance to meet them at the Polish border. It turns out that Gloria is originally from the Congo. They chat in French as the VW speeds through the night .
In the Rearview shows us familiar kinds of people, people who love their pets, dress with style and run their own businesses, being traumatised, uprooted and displaced. It is quietly forceful. None of this should be happening – but it is.
Kinoteka Polish Film Festival 2024 takes place in venues across London 6 – 28 March. For further information and tickets: https://kinoteka.org.uk/
