Description: by Konrad J. Zrębski

The new Feliks Falk’s film, awarded the Gold Lions at the jubilee 30th year of Polish Feature Film Festival in Gdynia, differs from most Polish features of today in that it shows no world of the TV screen or glossy magazines.

 It was shot on location in Wałbrzych, where, like almost everywhere, you may find beautiful residences and elegant restaurants, but they are not what you hear about. What you do hear, however, is of the decline of local industry, primitive coal pits and growing unemployment. The sorry plight of the townsfolk and the whole region bears out the negative aspects of the post-1989 transformation.

Likewise the lead epitomizes unambiguously negative characteristics. No wonder that when this court official shows up on the scene to collect overdue debts, he symbolizes a double misfortune: On the one hand, he reminds the debtor of the debt, on the other, his visit spells further deterioration of the living conditions. Can a collector make the hero? Neither our literature nor film has come up with such an attempt, though there has been a number of interesting films about collectors from the documentary Urząd by Maria Zmarz-Koczanowicz (1986) to the 20-part series Komornicy by Beata Janucha made two years ago. What we should talk about is the double image here: a good collector, as an efficacious official, will always be negatively viewed by his victims – the debtors. No matter if he seizes their property, which in most cases aggravates their poverty, or when he only – more rarely – punishes for dishonesty and smartness. A collector who deals with a deadbeat, given the severe law, its instruments at his disposal, and the eventual profits he gains is not viewed sympathetically by most of the population. Whereas the juristic milieu has a different opinion, defending the rights of the creditors. When debts of hospitals come into play, however – a sad experience of recent years – it is hard to maintain an objective stance.

Feliks Falk begins his story with his collector’s raid on a hospital to seize apparatuses that save life, to which inpatients are hooked up. A striking unambiguous image that signals ambiguity that will characterize this film. Neither the Wałbrzych on the screen will fully remain itself, but rather one of the many medium size towns with such problems, or will the collector remain the heavy until the end. Andrzej Chyra, playing Lucek Bohme, the lead, has so far specialized in similar roles of ambitious thirtysomethings, driving straight ahead without looking over their shoulders. In The Collector, he plays a topnotch specialist – a representative of the growing number of Polish yuppies, who carries out his duties with surprising consistency and efficacy. With his uncompromising stance, he sends shivers down the spines of his victims, the debtors; as well as his juristic milieu, where he works. The jeopardized deadbeats raise few brows, whereas the fears of his milieu surprise at first blush at least. One of the reasons for their anxiety is Lucek’s rigorous consistency in carrying out the letter of the law, a characteristic praiseworthy in its own right, which in a particular social situation may be mistakenly interpreted. Worse still, the young collector has another valuable trait: He is impossible to corrupt. Allegations against the rest of the milieu are never pronounced loud and clear, giving rise to a suggestion that the compliance and the mitigating stance of other collectors (as well as of the rest of the lawyers) result from their having been corrupted.

Also Lucek’s driving force seems ambiguous: you never know if it’s his career drive, sheer hubris, or a perverse sense of vengeance for his humiliations years ago, as he comes from an impoverished, father-dominated family. This has no special significance, although the motive would have characterized the lead a little better. What is more essential is Lucek’s propensity to play games where everything is put at stake. When one debtor offers him a big bribe for helping him to fix an auction, which would enable him to buy back his auctioned-off equipment for peanuts, Lucek unexpectedly accepts a handsome sum of money. What he is thinking of is another game that would help him discredit the local elites. The snag is his hubris blinds him to his opponents’ real potential. All it takes is a moment of weakness that will make his painstakingly built renown crumble.
An unpleasant coincidence, a kind of chance accident, makes Lucek unexpectedly notice the disparity in the spirit and the letter of the law. It finally dawns on him that acting in the name of the law he does harm to people. His moment of expiation only deepens the crisis of his consciousness. The bribe, which turns out to be a deliberately planned provocation, with which he intends to right the wrongs, is spent overnight. The juristic milieu heaves a sigh of relief, anxiously reaches out a helping hand and helps to cover up the affair, their nerves having been steadied, as Lucek has finally become one of them, fully swamped in dependence on the local administrative-social circuit. Will he still manage to break free?

Dynamic, at times even rapacious, the film of Feliks Falk, in many respects resembles the works of the ‘moral anxiety cinema’ period, which the director co-created. Moreover, Lucek Bohme does not resemble the lead of Top Dog only in his given name. Like the Danielak of Top Dog, Lucek represents a social group, which on its way to a social promotion sets rules of conduct. Although there is a 30-year-long difference between them, methods of making a career are not much different at the moment. However, the two leads differ in their capacity for soul-searching. Danielak, simply, is completely devoid of it. Lucek Bohme, however, unexpectedly discovers that he is willing to have second thoughts about his road taken and his self-appraisal. The answer waiting to be found is whether that is just a question of individual sensibility or a characteristic of the new generation of Top Dogs.

The review of the KINO magazine, no. 10/2005

directed by: Feliks Falk
written by Grzegorz Łoszewski
photography: Bartek Prokopowicz
music: Bartłomiej Gliniak
art director: Anna Wunderlich
editing: Krzysztof Szpetmański
sound: Maria Chilarecka-Barczyńska
starring: Andrzej Chyra (Lucek), Kinga Preis (Gosia), Małgorzata Kożuchowska (Anna), Marian Opania (Chełst), Jan Frycz (Chudy), Sławomir Orzechowski (Wiśniak), Marian Dziędziel (Horst)
executive producer: PERSPEKTYWA Film Studio
producers: Janusz Morgenstern, Jerzy Buchwald, Dorota Ostrowska-Orlińska, Andrzej Serdiukow, Paweł Mossakowsk