Małgosia opens her eyes slowly and behind the window it’s a dark November morning. Her body resembles a white cross on the black sheets of the bed where she sleeps alone. Her daughters are all up already, waiting for her to get out of bed, but Małgosia doesn’t let them make her hurry. Despite their protests, she won’t take them to school. Not today. Fran is awakened by another phone-call. It’s Marta, her sister, again. And again, she doesn’t pick up. She lights a joint in silence, looks at the two naked men asleep in her bed and smiles. What would her perfect sister say if she knew how she spent the afternoon? How different their lives really are. But Fran doesn’t care, no-one can touch her now, her life is in her own hands. Or at least, this is what she thinks. Łucja stares at the needle. She left her son with her mother tonight and her infant baby is asleep in her cradle. Can one last time make such a difference? Łucja pierces her arm and melts down on the bed. Her neighbors are having a fight, so physically close, yet so far. The spring morning becomes day then dusk and night then dawn again, but Łucja’s body doesn’t even twitch while the lives of people we don’t see continue undisturbed behind the walls.
The event that originated the idea for Still Life was my stumbling upon a tiny article about two bodies that had been found in a flat in one of the huge blocks in the outskirts of Lodz, the city where I live. The bodies belonged to a young girl who overdosed on heroin and her six-month old baby, who died of exhaustion, as the neighbours reacted only a week after her death. As a human, my first reaction was horror, followed by deep sadness as this brought back the memory of my grandfather, who passed away because of a heart attack and whom we found only three days later. And I thought of myself, too. How many days would it take my neighbours to react, if something would happen to me? As a filmmaker, I was bewildered by the idea that in a building where hundreds of people live, separated only by walls, such an event could go unnoticed for seven full days without disrupting any of the parallel existences surrounding it. And what I couldn’t help thinking was, what would it be to listen to all the sounds and words of other people’s lives from the point of view of someone who is not alive any more? Would a fight between husband and wife have a different meaning? Would it have meaning at all? Malgosia rejects life, she kills herself, unable to live an existence she cannot accept, despite her 3 daughters depending on her. She is sunk into the past, focused on things lost so strongly, she doesn’t even see the beauty of her present, or of how it could be. Fran on the contrary, is the personification of life, fearless and free, she embraces every new day like a joyride, determined to suck as much out of it as she can. But because of this, her fate won’t be different, she will die in a stupid accident, something completely unpredictable. Still Life studies the interrupted gestures, feelings and choices of the 3 main characters, taking us on a journey through emotional female themes, such as obsession, motherhood, envy, self-sacrifice and the relationship with the body. A study of attitudes towards the time given to us, a collection of nows asking what it is that remains of our being, when we see it through a prism of non-being? The 3 stories form an arc, the connections between them symbolic and visual. Malgosia drives through the rainy city streets on a heavy autumn day, Fran is sunk in the blackness and sparks of a Christmas afternoon, while the warmth and colours of spring come through Lucja’s window. The camera follows Malgosia nervously, it slows down to Steady-Cam smoothness meeting Fran’s sensuality, coming to a full stop in the fixed frame of Lucja’s ending; which slides into a dreamy imagery of a summer beach. Still Life is the story of how 3 different stories end, coming together as one. Wanting to celebrate life, in all its fragile beauty.
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