Written and Directed by Piotr Domalewski
Starring Zofia Stafieji, Kinga Preis, Arkadiusz Jakubik
Runtime: 98 minutes
Available digitally from Brooklyn Academy of Music’s New Polish Cinema Series

by Miguel Alejandro Marquez, Staff Writer

From the very opening scene of I Never Cry, an audience member will understand that this is a film that will not hold back, both stylistically and dramatically. Our protagonist, Olka, is a seventeen year old girl who believes she is entitled to a new car, is in conflict with both her family and her desire for independence. She is becoming an adult, and the adults around her act like children. Her estranged, selfish father has recently passed, and now she has to move the body from Ireland to Poland. The bleak Polish landscape, and the film’s marvelous cinematography, show us the world of a teenager on the brink of a mental breakdown. Every moment has a level of tension, in which the free spirited teenager lives in a world full of harsh consequences. The first five minutes give us a reason for why we need to both care about her dreams, and know why she can’t have them.

The story begins with our protagonist wanting to have her drivers license, with it ending to her driving off into the sunset. Her goals are clear, and the obstacles to get to them are less than . Her father and mother, people who have been stuck in the same place their entire lives. She has the primary desire to leave their world of responsibility, and this is manifested in her desire for a car. Zofia Stafiej excellently plays a character that wants to run away from both herself and the life that her parents have given her. Our sympathy in her struggle comes from her commanding presence and fiery personality.

The chain smoking heroine is someone that the viewer can both relate to, and be disgusted by. She has the soul of someone twice her age, yet still has the immaturity of a typical teenager. The situation that she is presented with is both serious and humorous. She has to be an adult in a world where no one seems to take real responsibility. Every character has serious faults, yet are still able to be seen as relatable. The film’s tone and style complement the situation she is in, and the message the film is wanting to give.

The constant mentioning of money, and the stability of the household, serve as ways for us to remember the underlying reason for why she must grow. The sharp wittyness of the protagonist acts as a form of escapism for both her and for us. We need levity in a drama. But this is not the only part of her personality that’s highlighted. Her compulsion towards destruction is justified, especially once her goal becomes finding a way to both get her precious car and getting justice from the insurance companies that negate her father’s death. An institution that negates its own responsibility. Everyone is irresponsible, or uncaring except her. This is the irony of the film, a world that demands responsibility, but has none of its own.

The juxtaposition of action, of the drama being both centered and directed against the protagonist, leaves this viewer wanting more from Piotr Domalewski. His work, and the story that he is trying to tell, is both tragic and purposeful. This project reminds me of the films of the Safdie Brothers, especially with a protagonist pushed against her ego in order to find the “peace” she desires. All we need to do is just replace the adrenaline junkie narrative of a typical Safdie project, to a narrative of a woman trying to grieve both her loss of innocence and her becoming just like her parents.

Cinematically, this film is a marvel. The cinematography, the lighting especially, compliments the aesthetic of a hostile world. One must give praise to Piotr Sobociński Jr., who knocked it out of the ballpark with his photography. The scene in which Olka is forced to identify her deceased father is both tragic as well as heartfelt. With the bluish-green hue expertly giving the audience a sense of both fear and grief once we see the corpse. The shot is static and rests on the corpse’s mauled, decayed face. This shot gave humanity to a character that we’ve been told has none.

These moment–moments in which the characters are forced against the wall by the actions of others–create a meaning that is older than time itself. This is a tale of responsibility. Even though the father of the film does not really have a performance, both him and the idea of manhood play a serious role in the film’s narrative. Whether it be simple side characters, or main characters who are in Olka’s way, the males within I Never Cry give us a window into what Olka has lost as an individual, and what she is trying to avoid in her life. This film blossoms as both a metaphorical dig at weak men, and an example of what good men truly must avoid in order to be great.