How Do Cinematic Aesthetics from Eastern and Central Europe Create Stance Toward War?
The Eastern and Central European film industry has produced many films with prevalent themes of war for decades. Eastern and Central Europe has a long and complex history of war, which has substantially impacted European culture and identity. As a result, war is a familiar subject in European cinema, as many filmmakers have endeavored to explore the experiences and consequences of conflict from various standpoints. War in a film has the potential to build excitement, emotion, historical interest, and cultural significance, typical hallmarks of a good film, but is there any mode to display war on screen without inevitably glorifying it? Does recreating the brutal realities of war fetishize and reduce the horrors if people can watch as refined entertainment? Arguments can be made that war seen through cinema allows audiences to explore important themes and events through the lens of popular culture. Still, the ethical dimension of war depiction on screen is a heavily debated topic by filmmakers, veterans, historians, and spectators. Some films about war seek to honor the sacrifices and heroism of soldiers, while others may criticize the politics or ethics of war. These films can educate viewers about the realities of conflict and help them better understand the social, political, and cultural contexts in which wars occur.
Considering the region’s bloody history, it is no surprise that movies from Central and Eastern Europe not only often concentrate on war but also strive to be "anti-war.” Warsaw 44 (2014), Underground (1995), and Come and See (1985) are films that come from Central and Eastern Europe that portray themes of heroism, sacrifice, and the atrocities of war and the long-lasting effects, yet feel incredibly opposed to the matters they are covering through their distinct visual styles. War in film can be brutally realistic or highly stylized, including intense battle scenes, explosions, and other visual effects and cinematic techniques to convey chaos and intensity. War is one of the most drastic experiences a human can go through and is often highly damaging to those who live through it. Due to historical circumstances and filmmakers’ unique cinematic choices, every film about war will inevitably take a stance on the subject. Jan Komasa’s Warsaw 44 employs intense stylization of combat, color selection, and camerawork to show the destruction of Warsaw during the Uprising and the tragic consequences of conflict. Emir Kusturica in Underground uses set design, music choices, and absurd and surrealist visuals to deliver a political commentary to accentuate how war-related conflict can be absurd. In Come and See, Elem Klimov utilizes highly realistic performance, sound design, and mise-en-scene to show how war is a senseless and brutal force that destroys lives, shatters families and leaves lasting psychological scars on those who survive it.
Warsaw 44 shows the Polish people’s dignity through deliberate choices in camerawork and cinematography. Warsaw 44’s cinematic style is heavily characterized by handheld camera work, vibrant camera movements, and intense close-ups, which create a visceral and immersive experience for the viewer, fostering empathy. Throughout the movie, the camera continually moves and shakes, creating a sense of chaos and instability that reflects the turmoil and violence. The camera is often positioned at a low angle, which enhances the feeling of disorientation and vulnerability, as the audience is set to see the world from the perspective of the characters on the ground. The movie utilizes a variety of practical effects, CGI, and archival footage to vividly portray the city’s destruction. Buildings are shown collapsing in clouds of dust and debris, and the streets are filled with rubble and wreckage. The film also uses a variety of camera angles and movements, such as handheld shots and sweeping crane shots, to create a dynamic and immersive visual experience. The camera often lingers on close-up shots of damaged structures, overturned vehicles, and shattered glass, emphasizing the message of the effects of the destruction of the city. The film also uses intense close-ups to emphasize the characters’ emotions and reactions, notably Stefan and Biedronka. These close-ups create a sense of intimacy, permitting the audience to connect with the characters on a deeper level. One of the most striking scenes is right at the beginning, with a tracking shot of Stefan running through the streets of Warsaw during a bombing raid. The scene is chaotic, with buildings exploding and collapsing around him and people running and screaming for their lives.
Throughout the film, there are many sequences of the city being bombed and shelled, with buildings collapsing and exploding in flames. The consistency of these sequences throughout the film illustrates the relentless destruction that Warsaw endured during the war and why it is so meaningful to how the people of Warsaw view their home. Part of the reason for this pride in the ruins of Warsaw is noted clearly by David Crowley in his chapter Memory in Pieces: The Symbolism of the Ruin in Warsaw after 1944 on page 357, “the Red Army had halted its march to the west during the final stage in the Nazi destruction of the city in 1944 – an event which most Poles viewed as a second act of Nazi-Soviet collusion – was obscured in the official record.” This obscuration of history is heartbreaking and motivation for Poles to reclaim this stolen part of their history.
The use of color in Warsaw 44 is notable because the film predominantly uses a desaturated color palette, creating a gritty and pragmatic aura emphasizing bleakness and destruction. However, there are moments where the film's use of color is more pronounced. For example, scenes of resistance fighters preparing for battle are often depicted with warm, golden tones, creating a sense of hope and perseverance. Likewise, scenes of explosions and gunfire are often shown with bright flashes of orange and red, emphasizing violence and chaos.
In Warsaw 44, the stylization of combat is a central aspect of the film's portrayal of the Warsaw Uprising of 1944. Komasa focuses on capturing the emotion and intensity of the fighting rather than a strictly realistic account of the events. One of the pivotal elements of the film's stylized combat is the use of slow-motion shots during action sequences. These shots create a sense of heightened drama and allow the audience to more fully appreciate the complexity and choreography of the fight scenes. Another factor of the film's stylized combat is its sound use. The film's sound design accentuates the visceral consequences of the warfare, with loud eruptions and gunfire that create a sense of disarray and danger. Music usage is essential, with a sweeping, orchestral score that adds to the emotional intensity of the film's action sequences.
Warsaw 44 is one of the most popular films to emerge from Poland in the past decade and received some pushback regarding its stylization of war. Collette De Castro, in her article “The Real Hunger Games,” heavily criticizes Komasa.“Unfortunately, the feeling comes across that he has used his privileged position as a renowned filmmaker, and his close-up experience with the sensitive footage which makes up The Warsaw Uprising, to turn a profit with Warsaw 44.” Castro acknowledges the prevalent trend in how World War II is depicted in modern Polish cinema, “The feeling one gets from the film, which resonates with what was said in the editorial summary of our Poland focus 2014, is that it’s an attempt to make Polish heroism attractive, youthful and rather naive.”
Crowley’s chapter provides further insight into how Warsaw 44 explores the aftermath of the Warsaw Uprising through its visual modes. The chapter and film highlight the devastating impact of the war on the town and its people and how the ruins became a symbol of resistance and resilience. “Cleared of people (by violence and deportation), the largest part of Warsaw’s streets and buildings were destroyed in 1944 by the Verbrennungskommandos (annihilation detachments) using tanks, flame-throwers and explosives. When the city was liberated in January 1945, the centre of Warsaw was a vast sea of rubble with only a few «islands» formed by standing buildings”(Crowley 352). The ruins became a tangible reminder of the city's past; its rebuilding was not only about restoring what had been lost but also about preserving and protecting its history and identity; Crowley argues that the devastations of Warsaw became a symbol of the city's lineage, which is Komasa’s goal in dramatizing certain aspects of the uprising for cinema. The reconstruction of Warsaw regarded restoring and preserving and protecting the city's past, making the ruins a reminder of the city's destruction and a way of reclaiming its history and identity.
Fifteen years before Warsaw 44 caused a stir, Emir Kusturica’s 1995 film Underground approached the theme of war in cinema in a new mode: the film uses set design, music choices, and surrealist visuals to show that war is ludicrous. Through surreal and nonsensical elements to portray the absurdity and senselessness of war, politics, and human behavior, the film's plot is deliberately convoluted and disjointed, with characters and events that often defy logic and common sense.
One of the critical elements in how Kusturica emphasizes his message of how war itself is absurd lies in the set design in Underground. Its elaborate, surrealistic sets emphasize the film's darkly comic tone. Many sets are designed to look like big theatrical stages, with exaggerated proportions and bright, colorful lighting. One of the most memorable sets in the film is the vast underground bunker, representing Yugoslavia, which acts as the central location for much of the film's activity. The bunker looks like a sprawling subterranean city, complete with streetlights, shops, and apartments. This set represents the paranoia and isolation of the characters trapped within the bunker, and its elaborate design emphasizes the absurdity and surrealism of the film's comprehensive fashion. Another amazing set is the dilapidated building that serves as the headquarters for the resistance movement. The building resembles a warren of connected rooms and halls, with makeshift barriers and booby traps sprinkled throughout. This set represents the ingenuity and resourcefulness of the resistance fighters, and its ramshackle design reflects the precariousness of their position. This stylized approach to set design aids in stressing the film's absurdist satire and allows the film to explore complex political and social issues visually inventively. In addition to its surrealistic sets, Underground also features real-world locations used to eminent effect. The film was shot on location in Germany, Serbia, Bulgaria, and the Czech Republic, and many real streets and buildings are featured in the film. These sites are used to contrast the film's more mythological sets and to ground the film's absurd elements in a recognizable reality.
The film's use of music is also vital in its exploration of war as it combines traditional Balkan music and contemporary pop songs. This creates a peculiar ambiance one can only associate with the film’s overall vibe. The Balkan music roots the film in its cultural and historical context. Kusturica is a Serbian filmmaker, and his use of Balkan music helps to emphasize the film's connection to the region and its people. This music is often used in scenes that depict traditional Balkan customs and celebrations, such as weddings and funerals and aids in highlighting the film's exploration of cultural identity and tradition. Underground also uses popular songs from the time period. These songs are varied, from rock and roll to folk music, and are used to reveal the themes of political upheaval and social transformation. For example, there is a scene where a group of musicians performs a punk rock song against the backdrop of a riot, emphasizing the youth culture and political activism of the era.
The surreal visual style emphasizes the absurdity of the events in the film and the themes of war. As mentioned previously, sets are part of how Kursturica creates a sense of unreality and otherworldliness; with the bold colors and larger-than-life props, and animal characters, there have a dreamlike quality that emphasizes the mystique of the film's world. For example, the monkey that appears in a few memorable scenes in the film depicts its often erratic and unpredictable behavior, which is reflective of the chaotic and unstable nature of the regime. The monkey character is negligibly unexpected, and its absurd presence underscores the absurdity of war. Another common visual motif in the film is extreme close-ups and distorted perspectives. These shots often focus on the characters' faces or body parts, emphasizing their emotional reactions and physical movements in a way that is both intimate and surreal. For example, there is a scene in which a character's face is shown in extreme close-up as he shouts at a crowd of protestors, with the camera lingering on his mouth as he spews vitriolic insults.
Underground has been hailed for both its political critique of Yugoslav communism and nationalism and its aesthetics. The film draws the Yugoslav Partisans as heroes and shows the corruption and abuse of power under their rule. The film rebukes the climb of nationalism in Yugoslavia, which eventually led to the country's dissolution. As noted by Dina Iordana on page 2 of “Kusturica's Underground: Historical Allegory or Propaganda,” “If one leaves aside the visual particularities, Underground is a historical film which offers a framework for interpreting the current violent state of affairs in the Balkans.”
While Warsaw 44 uses the dark backdrop of the history of Warsaw to show Polish heroism, Underground uses comedy, absurdity, and a humorous love triangle as a tool to present a film that explores the history of Yugoslavia and critiques the political systems and ideologies that led to its abolition. The unique visuals and quick-pacing techniques allow the creation of a powerful and thought-provoking anti-war message. The movie’s epilogue delivers a pungent discrepancy to its apocalyptic end. In a wedding scene, all the protagonists assemble for a banquet on the Danube's beaches. As they happily commemorate, the portion of land they stand on cracks apart from the mainland and peacefully drifts out. They are too occupied to realize that they are drifting out. This last sequence is the clarifying metaphor for the Yugoslav people. As noted by Dina Iordana in UNDERGROUND - Film (Movie) Plot and Review, “Kusturica explained in a 1996 interview with David Robinson: "(They) go away never really knowing what has happened to them. That is the way of the Balkan people. They never rationalize their past. Somehow the passion that leads them forward is not changed. I hope some day people may find better ways to use the passion they have so far persistently used to kill one another."”
Warsaw 44 and Underground are both movies with themes of the atrocities of war emphasized through their visual styles and creative symbolism, but is there such a thing as an “anti-war” movie? Tom Brook from BBC, in his article, “Is there any such thing as an ‘anti-war film’?” explores the famous quote by new wave French filmmaker François Truffaut. Truffaut says, “There’s no such thing as an anti-war film” because movies will inevitably promote combat when they depict the adventure and thrill of battle and the fellowship among soldiers. A strong argument can be applied to all “anti-war” films that these movies may fail in their moral quest because films are an insufficient medium to recount the true monstrosities of actual conflict. Nevertheless, even with all the challenges facing filmmakers when creating an “anti-war” movie, there is no shortage of directors who have devoted much of their career to attempting to develop a true anti-war film. “Scholars maintain certain key characteristics that must be in place for an anti-war film to be effective. For Dennis Rothermel, Professor Emeritus of Philosophy at California State University, who has extensively researched anti-war films, they must give a nuanced view of mortal combat. “The random infliction of violent death, abject terror,” as well as “heinousness as a norm of behavior,” are listed by him as among the qualities necessary for an anti-war film – along with a sense of balance and context”(Brook). NYU film professor Sheril Antonio believes that showing both sides of the conflict is crucial and holds anti-war films to the same standards as documentaries. Art is subjective, and every critic, scholar, and audience member will have different standards for what movies they believe promote or obstruct war. “Even if anti-war films are imperfect, even if they can glorify combat, they still possess the power to make us view war differently and gain insight that reporting can’t give us”(Brook). While no films about war may be truly “anti,” these films attempt to create a more potent sense of the devastating consequences of conflict and to urge viewers to question the political and social systems that lead to war.
Ten years prior to Underground's release, director Elem Klimov’s 1985 film, Come and See takes the alluded “anti-war” war film to a new level. Through devastating performances, sound design, and mise-en-scene, the film is a powerful and catastrophic portrayal of war and its impact on individuals and society. The film conveys the senseless brutality of war and the devastating toll it takes on humanity in a way that neither of the other two films mentioned does because of its emphasis on dehumanization. There is a shocking realism to the portrayal of the indiscriminate violence and the destruction of innocent lives; Flyora witnesses the killing of innocent civilians. The film isn’t going against historical accuracy in the slightest. In Timothy Synder’s chapter, Preface: Europe, he writes on page viii, “The fourteen million were murdered over only twelve years, between 1933 and 1945, while both Hitler and Stalin were in power. Though their homelands became battlefields midway through this period, these people were all victims of murderous policy rather than war casualties. The Second World War was the most lethal conflict in history, and about half of the soldiers who perished on all its battlefields all the world died here, in this same region, in the bloodlands.” The “bloodlands” is the setting of Come and See, and director Klimov does not shy away from the bone-chilling affairs that occurred there. One particularly shocking scene occurs early in the film when Florya is locked in a barn with a group of villagers whom the Nazis have herded. Flyora manages to escape, but the soldiers set the barn on fire, burning the villagers alive. Flyora is horrified and traumatized by the scene as he watches helplessly as the villagers scream and beg for their lives. Another sequence shows the Nazis rounding up a group of women and children and forcing them to strip before executing them. The camera lingers on their frightened faces as they are gunned down, highlighting the senseless violence and cruelty of war.
Part of how Klimov relays his stance on war throughout Come and See is through powerful acting. The film ultimately suggests that war is senseless and destructive and that the violence and suffering it creates will psychologically linger. Flyora’s journey throughout the film is marked by physical and emotional suffering as he is subjected to violence and trauma. Leading actor Aleksei Kravchenko's performance is marked by rawness and defenselessness as he performs the physical and emotional toll that war takes on Florya. His portrayal of the character's change from an innocent and idealistic boy to a traumatized and damaged soldier is believable and devastating. Kravchenko's performance effectively portrays Florya's descent into delirium and sorrow, conveyed through his material and expressive deterioration. His haunted and glassy-eyed gaze, shaking and jerky movements, and choking and stuttering speech all contribute to a profoundly unnerving performance.
Sound design plays a considerable role in the success of the film. According to Micheal Sragrow’s article, Deep Focus: Come and See, “sound design filters the audio partly through Flyora’s damaged ears and psyche—we experience his industrial-strength tinnitus after a bombing raid—and partly through the director’s sensibility—we faintly hear a Strauss waltz as Flyora barely keeps his footing in a swamp.” The film's sound is heavily denoted through realistic and stylized sound effects and a haunting and, at times, disorienting melodic score. One of the most significant parts of the sound design is its use of ambient noise and environmental sounds, which immerse the spectator in the world. Gunfire, explosions, and planes flying aloft are all carefully formulated to bring a sense of chaos and trouble, while the wild sounds of birds and branches crunching feed a stark contrast to the violence and destruction around them. In addition to its naturalistic sound design, there are more stylized sound effects, like the distorted and echoed sounds of Florya's voice when he is undergoing severe psychological anguish. These effects contribute to disorientation and anxiety, emphasizing war’s psychological toll on its victims.
Come and See is very cogent in conveying the ugliness of war through mise-en-scene. The film's close-ups, natural lighting, long takes, symbolic imagery, and unique camera work contribute to a robust and immersive viewing experience. Naturalistic lighting gives the film a gritty, realistic feel and adds to the sense of dread and unease that permeates the narrative, and long takes add to the riveting quality. The film’s use of symbolic imagery to convey its themes, such as the recurring image of a cow sinking into the mud, represents the sinking of innocent lives into the chaos and violence of war. The film also features innovative camera work, such as shots taken from Florya's point of view as he crawls through the mud or inside a burning building. These techniques add to the film's visceral impact and create a sense of being in the midst of chaos and destruction. Mark Le Fanu highlights the importance of the multifaceted ways that Klimov uses a Steadicam and close-up shots in his piece, Come and See: Orphans of the Storm. “different pairs of eyes addressing us are vivid with feeling and youthfulness. Later, close-ups of the boy and the girl will only show numbness, revenge, or despair—eyes that have all but ceased to see in response to enveloping horrors.”
Come and See is an innately violent and graphic film. The haunting and vivid images combined with believable performances and sounds place the spectator in Klimov’s world proving his stance that war is inhuman. James Kendrick’s chapter, What Do We Mean by Film Violence, makes the case that a movie with graphic images, and in this case, depictions of war, can successfully be “anti,” going against the notion that film inevitably glorifies whatever it is presenting. “Strong violence, therefore, finds a balance between style and content with the intention being to confront the viewer with the ugliness of violence, while weak violence has no content and is all style, with no intention other than to entertain and excite”(18). Come and See is an example of what Kendrick refers to as “strong violence,” because the images displayed elucidate the viewer on the dehumanization of war.
Ultimately, while some films feel anti-war in their themes or messages, it’s difficult to argue that a film can be altogether anti-war. As James Kendrick writes on page 13, “the effect film violence has on an individual viewer can also shift across time and place. Different audiences view film violence differently, but even within the individual’s mindset, it is not a fixed entity and is always subject to reconsideration.” War is a complex and multifaceted phenomenon, and movies can only supply a limited perspective. Furthermore, war movies often rely on the very violence and spectacle they are critiquing, which can be difficult to reconcile with an anti-war message. However, despite these limitations, films like Come and See can still challenge viewers to confront the certitude of war and the mortal cost of violence.
