"Women's shame is man's invention."Didn't expect this to affect me as much as it did. I went in expecting just another period drama, but it turned out to be far more heartbreaking than I imagined. The visuals are absolutely gorgeous, but they never overshadow the emotions. Every decision the characters make feels heavier as the story progresses, and by the end, I found myself thinking about it far more than I expected. It's tragic, beautifully made, and emotionally powerful
Spoilers in the last two paragraphs + mention of sexual assault in the third.In a movie full of striking images, events, and passions, the one moment of The Story of Sinthat is hardest to shake is the closeup of Ewa's small, white hands, fiercely ripping the heads off of the roses secretly left for her by Lukasz and shoving them inside the front of her dress. She doesn't want her mother to see them (she holds herself just a little more stiff than usual during their routine exchange of kisses, so the flowers can't be felt), but she also wants them on her skin, touching her, both hoping and not hoping they'll satiate some of her hunger for Lukasz.It's so memorable, I think, both for its violence — the way her fists close over the blooms, crushing them, caring only for their existence, not how they look — and for how spontaneous and private it is. We see Ewa alone fairly regularly throughout the film, but never in the emotional isolation she enjoys here, haphazardly hidden in a doorway, hearing footsteps all around her — no time to plan, no time to consider, just time to act. For Ewa, particularly as she gets older, most of her actions are at the direction of others, or in response to them. Whether they're simple and expected, like when she should be working and what on, or salacious and sadistic, like sexual manipulation, rape, or even being compelled to murder. Her body is not her own, nor is her mind; her freedom of action is nil.Even when she's saved from her life of sin and ensconced happily in utopia, Ewa still exists in that space at a man's bidding, a man who has brought her there for purposes both explicit (managing his press and public relations) and implicit (serving him sexually). It's less immediately oppressive than much of her previous (and late) life but, again, she has no other options, and remains there for that reason alone. In the end, it's one last moment of independence that brings about her death: a gasp of warning to the man she still loves, in spite of everything, sees her cut down in his home. And, as she once grasped and clawed to bring living symbols of his love as close to her heart as possible, this final act does the same, securing her confirmation of his own lasting love; of his willingness to sacrifice his material wealth for her, something she's been taught is the grandest gesture a man can make; the greatest truth he can tell. It's a statement more transactional and less pure than secret, hidden flowers but, for Ewa, who gave up on purity a lifetime ago, it's as close as her new life can get to that precious, childhood memory.
The Story of Sin appears to be director Walerian Borowczyk's attempt at making a more mainstream film than usual. This was filmed in his native Poland and based on a book by Stefan Żeromski, which apparently was not too well received due to its uneven nature. The film focuses on a young Polish girl whose family take in a lodger. They have an affair and then he goes off to seek a divorce from his wife, leaving her distraught and with no option but to follow him. The film is a rather absurd mix of drama and eroticism. It is beautifully shot, but much like the novel on which it is based, feels rather uneven. The episodic nature of the story sees our heroine traversing across Europe and getting involved in a number of different scenarios. It's varied and generally quite interesting, with some shocking scenes in places. For an erotic drama it's surpringly light on nudity - certainly owing to the Conservative Polish society it stemmed from; the likes of which is critiqued by the overall narrative and set off against against the desires of the lead character and the hypocrisy of religious teachings. I have to admit I preferred The Beast.