Cast: Lena Olin, Gabriel Byrne, Claire Danes, Adam Trese, Daniel Lapaine, Mili Avital, Rade
Serbedzija
Director: Theresa Connelly
Producers: Julia Chasman, Tom Rosenberg, Geoff Stier
Screenplay: Theresa Connelly
Cinematography: Guy Dufaux
Music: Luis Enríquez Bacalov
U.S. Distributor: Fox Searchlight
In an age during which the traditional family is disintegrating under the pressure of modern-day existence, Theresa Connelly's debut feature, Polish Wedding, illustrates that there are still some households in which blood-ties are the most important thing. The film opens a window into the ongoing chaos that marks the day-to-day activities of the Pzoniaks, a lower middle class Polish American clan living in Detroit. Like most people, the Pzoniaks lie, cheat, and scheme, but there are two common, family-fracturing words not in their vocabulary: "divorce" and "abortion." A woman can cheat on her husband without fear that he will leave her, and, when an unmarried girl becomes pregnant, there will be a trip to the altar, not to a women's clinic.
The Pzoniaks all live together in two adjoining single-family units. The walls are paper thin and there's no privacy. Space is at such a premium that the four unmarried children (three boys and one girl) must all sleep in the same room. For a moment's peace or a quick smoke, the only places to go are the basement or the pickle closet. The matriarch and patriarch of the clan are Jadzia (Lena Olin) and Bolek (Gabriel Byrne), who have been married for more than twenty years. Over the span of their union, they have had five children (four boys), the oldest of which is now married and has his own son. There are nine members of the Pzoniak family, and it's about to get even more crowded.
Over the years, Jadzia and Bolek's marriage has become a thing of dull-but-comfortable familiarity. She works days as a cleaning woman; he works nights as a baker. They rarely interact and never have sex. He suspects that she's having an affair, and he's right. Jadzia has taken up with a wealthy businessman, Roman (Rade Serbedzija), who treats her like a queen and satisfies her physical needs. She wants nothing more from him, however, and when he offers, she refuses.
Jadzia and Bolek's only daughter is Chala (Claire Danes), a carefree and sensual teenager who finds subtle ways of rebelling -- smoking when she's not supposed to, sneaking out of the house at nights, and flirting with any number of older boys. She's very close to her father, but there's an emotional gulf between her and her mother. This year, Chala has been selected to lead the annual procession for the Feast of the Virgin, an honor reserved for girls of the highest moral caliber. Ironically, it's around this time that Chala elects to lose her virginity with Russell (Adam Trese), a local policeman. The brief tryst, which begins with smoldering looks, results in a pregnancy.
Theresa Connelly, who clearly has a great deal of affinity for these characters, presents them in warts-and-all fashion, rightfully certain that we will sympathize with them in spite of (or perhaps because of) their faults. Connelly displays the skill of a veteran in the unforced manner in which she weds comedy and pathos throughout the film. There are a few occasions when she strikes a jarring note, such as a when Jadzia and her sons storm Russell's house, but these are exceptions. For the most part, the whimsical and dramatic elements are seamlessly fused. Connelly also understands the unique dynamics of a large family. Often, as we see with Jadzia and Bolek, it's not love that keeps couples together, but loyalty and a sense of duty.
Nothing is simple in Polish Wedding, not even Jadzia's infidelity. She considers Bolek to be a good man and a suitable "catch" (at one point, she relates the story of how, by becoming pregnant, she trapped him into marrying her), but he feels unworthy and unloved. His lack of sexual attention drives Jadzia into Roman's arms, but her unfaithfulness stings him deeply. Every night when he suspects she's out with her lover, he sits by the window, gazing into the darkness. Chala comments that he waits for her "like a dog," and he sadly agrees that we all wait for someone in that fashion.
The major parts are all well-acted. Lena Olin brings both a sensuality and a haughtiness to her role as Jadzia, one of the most forceful female characters to grace the screen this year. Gabriel Byrne, abandoning his regular accent for an unsteady Polish one, plays Bolek as a likable (albeit somewhat thick) sad-sack. Claire Danes, borrowing a page from Christina Ricci's "how to be a teenage seductress" book, exudes a sexuality that, despite the occasional appearance of coquettishness, is never innocent. Although Olin and Byrne have the most screen time, Danes' character may be the most interesting.
Certainly, the American film industry has produced a large number of first- and second-generation immigrant family stories. This is only natural, considering the ethnic diversity of our society. Polish Wedding uses the Pzoniaks' cultural heritage as more than a colorful backdrop -- it's an integral part of the plot, and that's one of the things that makes the film enjoyable. By offering a slightly different flavor of the immigrant experience, Polish Wedding carves out its own small niche in a crowded genre, and manages to entertain in the process.
© 1998 James Berardinelli