You took part in the Celluloid Solidarity podcast, which introduces Polish cinema to English-speaking audiences. Why do you think it’s important for people outside of Poland to hear these kinds of stories and perspectives?

 Oh, I was delighted to take part in it! I have to admit right away that I can’t stand listening to my own voice, so I didn’t actually listen to the podcast. I really tried, but it physically hurt me. However, I sent it to my aunt to listen to, and she told me that I didn’t say anything terrible and that she wasn’t embarrassed by me.

I think it’s such a tender idea to complement someone’s filmmaking with something like this (meaning podcast). I quietly hope that somewhere out there, there’s someone who wants to make documentaries, is interested in this, and is figuring out in their head how it all works. Maybe they’ll come across this podcast, and it will clarify something for them, complete the picture. It will give them an “aha, so this is actually possible!” moment and maybe give them a little bit of courage to bring some crazy idea to life.

Your film touches on the crisis of masculinity, especially in relation to emotions, vulnerability, and men’s solidarity. How did you approach this topic in Antek’s story?

I ‘m really glad that you interpret the film this way. The brotherhood my protagonist belonged to sees the crisis of masculinity as the foundation for the group’s existence. What shapes the bonds in the world where we meet the film’s protagonist is loyalty. I wouldn’t call it solidarity.

I understand solidarity as a kind of unity in an uprising against something. Do you see the actions of the boys in the male Brotherhood as acts of solidarity? Why do you perceive them that way? I’d love to reflect on that.

Your own worldview differs from that of your protagonist. You’ve spoken about setting boundaries to avoid influencing him. In your view, what ethical principles are essential for a documentary filmmaker when working so closely with their subject?

I strongly believe that there are no universal ethical rules in documentary filmmaking. My instinctive, intuitive response would be never sleep with any crew members or your protagonists. Your role is to make a film, and that should be clear to the people working with you.

But, you see—I immediately want to bite my tongue because I know an amazing Polish documentary called Our Curse (2013), made by a filmmaking couple, where the protagonist is the director’s partner. So, of course, he sleeps with his protagonist.

There are no general rules. From my experience, making a documentary takes long enough that you have time to reflect on ethical dilemmas. That was definitely the case for me—I worked on my first film for six years. Throughout this process, I often heard ethical concerns voiced by others. I didn’t ignore them; I reflected on them deeply.

However, I strongly believe in something I’d call intuitive morality. A person who invests so much energy into achieving something as difficult as making a film should be able to find support for this crazy endeavour. And if they receive support, they will surely find the time for an honest conversation with themselves—on a deep level—about why they want to make a particular film and how to refine their production process.

For me, spending time with my protagonists, observing them, and filming as much material as possible feels much more natural. I can’t imagine asking a protagonist to repeat the same sentence for the 50th time in front of the camera. I’ve heard that Herzog did that. Everyone works in the way they feel is right and carries their own little torch of knowledge—including ethical knowledge—for which they take responsibility.

People in my environment often say things like, “I know you changed him.” Every time, I have to explain that I didn’t change my protagonist—that’s simply the truth. My witnesses are his family, the Brotherhood he was a part of, and his friends. It usually takes a long explanation before someone believes me. The fact that the film’s structure is almost random—like a leftist’s wet dream—is the result of a creative decision shaped by the work of an entire team. Both my cinematographer and I had a good intuition about the protagonist- that he should be the main. My gut feeling that Antek was the black sheep and that his wandering would be interesting enough for the filmic purposes- because we don’t often see radical people who stray in a film —was confirmed by reality. You also need a level of stubbornness bordering on madness to convince your crew to work for free for a long time—and a certain resilience to keep meeting producers who tell you that there’s no way to find funding for this kind of project in this country. What I am trying to say is that it takes lots of energy to deliver the film- it’s not a normal job in a reality I exist. Money you earn on the way as a director are not even enough to survive anyhow throughout this period you are working on the film. So, it’s nice to hear “Well done” or “What an interesting story” from the people from the industry for instance. I have to admit I received also very unexpected compliments from my colleagues. And I am trying to learn from those how to support other filmmakers by words. 

When I met my producer, she said something beautiful about Antek: He is shifting from having answers to all the questions to asking questions himself.

From a filmmaking perspective, Antek was asking questions from the very first day we met him. He was constantly questioning things, which slightly confused his Brotherhood peers. For example, all the boys ate meat, including Antek. But one day, he suddenly said, Obviously, eating meat makes no sense because it’s not ecological and it destroys the planet. But I don’t have the willpower to stop.

This guy had explosive potential from the beginning. And even now, I still don’t know what will surprise me the next time I talk to him!

Do you believe that taking part in a documentary, either as a subject or filmmaker, can offer something emotionally healing?

For me, this whole journey was a profoundly human and deeply enriching experience. No therapy has ever taken me to such places! 🙂 I hope this answer is enough for your question!

Oh, and regarding my protagonist—he told me during festival screenings in Poland that, in a way, these conversations with the audience feel like free therapy for him. 🙂 However, I know that confronting the film itself was very difficult for him. And if you add real life—the life that makes up the film’s narrative—it becomes an incredibly multi-layered experience.

I just hope Antek doesn’t have any trauma related to the film. I’ll ask him about it tomorrow!

Was recording this podcast episode a therapeutic experience for you?

Absolutely! I think Wojtek, who made this podcast, would make a great therapist! He instantly creates a sense of calm and a safe space for conversation.

Film O’Clock International Festival connects 11 countries through films and discussions. How do you see this festival supporting the idea of solidarity between different cultures?
I don’t know that yet. I excited to discover it soon!