I first noticed the Polish director Jan P. Matuszynski a few years ago thanks to his excellent 2016 film ‘Ostatnia Rodzina‘ (released in English as ‘The Last Family‘), which brought to the screen the story of a highly original painter and the unconventional family surrounding him. His 2021 film ‘Źeby nie było śladów‘ (titled ‘Leave No Traces‘ for the English-language distribution) is also a docudrama based on real people and events; it reconstructs a dramatic case from the Polish history during the final decade of communism—an incident that took place in 1983. The film confirms the talent of one of the most compelling filmmakers of a generation that upholds the tradition of a cinematic school—one that has consistently produced films offering a clear-eyed look at the painful moments of a history fraught with suffering and contradictions. A shared strength of both films lies in the director’s ability and talent to recreate not only the setting and atmosphere of communist-era Poland but also the lived experiences of the people who inhabited that world.
The real-life case upon which the film is based is that of Grzegorz Przemyk, an 18-year-old who had just finished his high school exams; he was arrested by the Polish “Citizens’ Militia” in downtown Warsaw while horsing around with a friend. His refusal to produce identification papers (martial law had theoretically been suspended) resulted in a brutal beating at the hands of the militia officers. Two days later, he would die from internal hemorrhaging caused by these acts of violence. The boy’s mother—a well-known poet and supporter of independent trade unions—demands justice, while the friend arrested alongside him is ready to testify at a potential trial. Yet, is justice even possible in a dictatorship where the prosecutor’s office, the courts, and law enforcement are politically subservient? Terrified of a PR disaster on the eve of Pope John Paul II’s visit to Poland, the Party and its police apparatus attempt to cover up the case and shield the perpetrators—even at the cost of punishing innocent people (the paramedics who had transported the young man to the hospital) and by exerting extreme pressure on the mother, the key witness, and his family.
Spanning over two and a half hours, the film reveals and depicts the system’s actions: illegal surveillance and wiretapping, arbitrary arrests, blackmail, and physical and psychological pressure on witnesses. Those of us who lived under the communist dictatorships common to Eastern Europe know these tactics all too well, but I believe the film holds immense documentary value for younger generations. The screenwriters drew upon a work of investigative non-fiction, basing most of the depicted events on its revelations; however, they also added a—shall I say—fictionalized element that, in my view, failed to add anything of real interest. The acting performances are remarkable, featuring Tomasz Ziętek as the young friend and Sandra Korzeniak as the mother—both subjected to the full pressure of a system intent on concealing the truth and silencing them. Jacek Braciak, as the boy’s father, and Robert Więckiewicz, as the system minister orchestrating the cover-up, also deliver memorable performances. Yet, the film’s quality shines brightest in its depiction of the atmosphere in Poland during that era: the streets of Warsaw where the ferment of change was palpable; the police stations and hospitals infiltrated by the system’s tentacles; and the homes where ordinary people lived with a pervasive sense of lacking freedom and personal privacy. The film’s title stems from an torturer’s instruction to strike without leaving a trace. In reality, however, the film stands as proof that traces do exist. Much like in actual history—where the primary culprits were never punished—the scars left by blows struck against personal freedom and fundamental human rights are still felt today in societies that emerged decades ago from Eastern Europe’s dictatorships.