Polish film is often some flavour of extreme. It’s brought us revered historical retellings, adored comedies, and sometimes just the deep-red scandalous. But it’s also brought us the beautiful gems missed by those who don’t dare step foot into the broad, imaginative world that is non-English cinema. Katyń (2007), The Peasants (2023), and The Hater (2020) are just a few celebrated pieces of modern Polish film that stand out in their own ways. Łukasz Suchocki’s little present to the free-spirited and the indie listeners, Camper, swaps extremity for serenity.
The film takes place during the lockdown era of Covid-19, so we mostly stay in the leading four’s bubble as they teeter on the boundaries of what was permitted back then. In a night of line-snorting and glass-swishing, the intoxicated Robert (Michał Krzywicki) and Klaudia (Dagmara Brodziak) are convinced to come along on a campervan trip southwards across Europe with Vera (Aleksandra Jachymek) and Filip (Szymon Milas). When Klaudia wakes up hungover the next day in Germany, her job is already jeopardised, so she surrenders: “We have nothing to lose.”
There are virtually no shots in the film that don’t feature a face. Whether intentional or not, it’s an obvious emphasis on the characters’ evolutions and developing relationships. The vibrant destinations on their trip are just an afterthought as their swirling emotions take centre stage. The cinematographer’s presence is prominent with sometimes nauseating shaky cam and at times lazy focusing on subjects–but this may have been just what Suchocki and Maciej Dydyński intended. It’s as if we’re an invisible floating creature in everyone’s personal space, watching their lives play out. Though perhaps it’s not really warranted for so many calm scenes–we’d expect more of that from a Gaspar Noé.
Scenes clip together abruptly, like the blocky passing of time in memories. With a few subtly unsettling Dutch angles and the discordant assault of piano keys in the background, for a moment, it’s unclear whether the tone will become more disturbing. Then, they start waltzing through serene landscapes, accompanied by the occasional contemplative ambient score, and you realise the film is taking a much more pleasant turn.
Brodziaka and Krzywicki perform well when their characters have an agonisingly real argument about finances; one wants the space to build on their dream, while the other has to burn their income to keep them afloat. And when the latter proposes a break, it turns into a complete shedding of relationships and foreknowledge for the four campers. Vera declares: “We’ve got a new language. Everybody’s single. Nobody knows one another. From now on. We get to know each other from scratch.” Once the four learn to let go of themselves, they seem to bond more than ever. The camper, in the end, was their chrysalis.
Camper is a film that flows like a breeze, with few surprises. Perhaps the biggest surprise was in fact the credits run at the end. Accumulating a mere few talents’ names on the black screen, there was an extraordinarily small team behind the film, and though it’s not perfect, it’s impressive what they achieved. Perhaps like the four who travel together and come out as new people, a good team – no matter how small – can create wonders.
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Written by Maddie Armstrong
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