Writer and Director: Sebastian Buttny
Starting off like a thinking man’s Da Vinci Code, the Polish Saint is, by the time it finishes, a little disappointing. The conflict between religion and politics in 1980s Poland, still under Communist rule, is the focus of the film when a saint’s statue mysteriously disappears from Gniezno Cathedral. When policeman Andrzej Baran is assigned to investigate, he suspects that the thieves are none other than the SB, Poland’s security service. He will have to walk a delicate line if he wants to find answers.
The saint is Adalbert, Poland’s patron saint. He was martyred in 997 in Prussia by a mob when he was trying to convert the people to Christianity. His remains were bought by Poland and the missing statue once rested upon the reliquary holding the remains of his body. Baran believes that the reliquary was too heavy to steal as well as the silver effigy. That Adalbert’s relics remain is no comfort to the local priests who tell Baran that rather than the statute being stolen, the saint has been kidnapped.
Fortunately for Baran, his wife is an esteemed art historian (played by Lena Góra, who’s required to do most of her scenes in underwear) and she is able to tell him about the saint’s legend which is illustrated in wonderful carvings that are found on the cathedral’s Romanesque doors. They may help find the statue, but his commitment and his courage in taking on the SB mean that perhaps he is the saint of the film’s title.
Mateusz Kosciukiewicz is an engaging hero and his character’s stress is signified by his addiction to medicine that might cure his stomach problems. Baran is not religious at all and, even though he comes to believe that he is being set up to fail, his dogged determination is admirable. His paranoia is justified, however; every time the phone rings, he worries that the call is being listened to by the SB, who are scared that the Church might challenge its precarious power over ordinary people.
Other aspects of the Communist regime are also portrayed with care; there are queues outside the food shops and officialdom is awash with metal filing cabinets, box files and dull grey corridors. Everyone smokes and the police drink shots of vodka while on duty. There are pockets of snow still on the ground and paving stones are placed at the entrance to the cathedral so no one gets their shoes muddy. One passer-by is resplendent in real furs. Baran frowns at her extravagance in such an austerely monotone era.
With details as meticulous as these, it’s a pity that the story, based on a real incident in 1986, isn’t so strong and the parallels between St Adalbert and Baran’s lives seem unfinished. An unlikely brawl between Baran and the SB undermines the narrative and the strange ending is based on a Christian faith that is too underexplored by writer/director Sebastian Buttny for it to be wholly successful. If it is a miracle, it’s a grubby snow-splattered one.
Kinoteka Polish Film Festival 2024 takes place in venues across London 6 – 28 March.
