25 Years of Innocence. The Case of Tomek Komenda (25 lat niewinności. Sprawa Tomka Komendy)

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A mixture of the miserablist prison drama and a good old-fashioned police procedural, 25 Years of Innocence plays like Shawshank Redemption stripped of any feel-good moments. A grim yet eventually hopeful examination of a true case of wrongful imprisonment in Poland, this true-life story has the potential to be a crossover success.

The film starts in the year 2000, with the young Tomasz Komenda (Piotr Trojan) hauled into an interrogation cell over the rape and murder of a young girl at a New Year’s Eve party three years prior. Beaten senseless by the police, he confesses to having sex with a fifteen-year-old outside of a village party miles away from his own town. With DNA evidence seemingly against him, and only a public defendant to state his case, he is sentenced to a brutal 25 years in jail.

With certain scenes directly evoking Shawshank Redemption, Jan Holoubek boldly stakes his own claim on the wrongfully imprisoned man genre. The other half of the film, concerning the reopened investigation to find the real men responsible, takes a more Fincheresque turn, filled with portentous conversations and fascinating open-ends. We get the sense, Zodiac-like, that something is being concealed from us, just out of view, giving the film a truly enigmatic appeal.

Holoubek, also behind noir Netflix series The Mire, has a great eye for forensic detail, poring over the details and allowing the viewer to become an active participant. While there is a bit too much showing and telling, making certain revelations feel a little overdone and redundant, there is great skill in the way so much history and detail has been compressed into a mere two hour movie.

Besides Trojan’s own gripping performance, playing a simple man suffering all types of iniquities, the film’s heart rests in two good people trying their best. The first is his mother Teresa Klémańska, played with relentless passion by Polish legend Agata Kelusza. The second is the dogged police inspector Remigiusz Korejwo (Dariusz Chojnacki) — a man who knows that going against his own colleagues could cost his career, but knows he has to do the right thing.

Eventually the case of Tomek Komenda finds its way to the supreme court, gripping the entire nation in the process. This film has already had great resonance in Poland, where it was released in September, already making nearly $4 million; a fine achievement in the age of coronavirus. I think it’s because it gets to the very heart of what justice is about. Whether it’s the police or the courts, the Komenda case shows what can happen when all the wrong elements of the justice system conspire.

Now with the current ruling party in Poland ironically called the Law and Justice party — despite the way they have removed several of the checks and balances that make for a free and fair government — 25 Years of Innocence shows why effective review and implementation of the law is more important than ever.

25 Years of Innocence plays as part of the First Feature competition at Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival, running from 13th to 29th November.

Out Of Blue

Morley’s latest film is both infuriating and enthralling in equal measure. Infuriating because its convoluted plot, firing off in several directions one after another, is often nigh on impossible to follow. Enthralling because while you never quite know where you are, it periodically throws at you utterly compelling little visual clues and sequences of images as teasers to suggest narrative or other possibilities.

Some viewers are going to hate this film and wonder why they wasted their money to see it. Others like myself, while not showering the film with unqualified praise, are going to want to revisit it several times and get more out of it each time they return. If you’ve got the patience and are prepared to dig on a first viewing and return later to dig some more, there’s a lot waiting to be unearthed here.

After a brief introductory sequence in which astronomer Jennifer Rockwell (Mamie Gummer) talks to a small audience outside an observatory about the stars and our place in the universe, she becomes the subject of a homicide case. But who pulled the trigger and blew her face off?

Finding herself in charge of the investigation, Police Detective Mike Hoolihan (Patricia Clarkson) examines the crime scene. Rainfall has interfered with it through the opened telescope slit in the domed roof. She notes such objects as a gun, a sock, a high heeled shoe and a jar of skin cream. She is approached by and surprisingly quickly falls in with TV news reporter Stella Honey (Devyn Tyler) who appears at unexpected moments and disappears equally unexpectedly.

The two immediate murder suspects are Jennifer’s boss Dr. Ian Strammi (Toby Jones) – it was his gun and he covered up the telescope but didn’t close the roof – and her boyfriend Duncan Reynolds (Jonathan Majors) – it was his sock. Reynolds’ alibi was that he rushed home after lovemaking to work on an all-consuming academic theory, Strammi’s that he spent all night with a female student discussing Schrödinger’s Cat. Hoolihan’s boss Lieutentant Janey McBride (Yolanda Ross) and colleague Tony Silvero (Aaron Tveit) have different ideas, including the latter’s belief that the perpetrator is the .38 Calibre Killer who hasn’t killed since the 1980s.

Something doesn’t feel quite right to Hoolihan, though, so she turns her attention outwards to the victim’s family – war hero father Colonel Tom (James Caan), mother Miriam (Jacki Weaver) and their twin sons.

The plot may or may not be clearer in Martin Amis’ novel Night Train from which Morley’s script is adapted, although she’s apparently removed and added quite a lot of material. The New Orleans setting allows for a commendably interracial cast and a clutch of striking performances. Chief among these is Clarkson’s detective, trying to just get on and do her job even as elements from the case on which she’s working resonate with half-remembered memory fragments from her own past. Or perhaps they’re prophetic images from her future.

Morley tantalisingly baffles and dazzles us with repeating images: a red scarf blowing in the wind of an electric fan, blue necklace baubles dropping onto and bouncing on a floor. The piece ends as it begins with images of the stars in the sky above the city.

All this proceeds in a kaleidoscopic manner focusing on a character here and a bunch of images there until a point towards the end where one of the images furnishes a key clue as to what all this is about and the solution is abruptly revealed in a curt couple of lines of dialogue that could have been thrown in at any earlier point in the proceedings.

As far as Morley’s concerned, the plot doesn’t seem to be what really matters. Her interest lies elsewhere – trauma, memory, repression. Our past affecting our present. Some intensely personal events have influenced Morley’s directing: her father committed suicide when she was eleven and according to the press blurb there were characters and situations in Amis’ novel that she immediately recognised as from her past. If the film doesn’t work so well as a straightforward genre exercise, those viewers with the patience to let it speak to them on its own terms over multiple viewings will find it rich in meaning indeed.

Out Of Blue is out in the UK on Friday, March 29th. Before then, it screens in the Glasgow Film Festival on Wednesday and Thursday, February 27th and 28th. On VoD (BFI Player and other platforms) on Monday, October 21st.