Streaming Review: Slawomir Grünberg’s Still Life in Lodz shows how art and objects can take us back emotionally to another place and time
Entire families are shaped by trauma; burning a neat hole in the hearts of grandfathers all the way down to great grandsons. This trauma can feel abstract to anyone outside of its presence, and when the trauma is large enough it can seem incomprehensible. That’s at the root of Slawomir Grünberg’s Still Life in Lodz (which is currently available via various streaming sites) when three people meet to recover their personal memories of this small neighborhood-turned-ghetto. The damage and hurt inflicted upon the two holocaust survivors resonates, not in the grandiose “man’s inhumanity to man” way, but through the detail work. Still Life in Lodz describes a painting displayed in the home of one of the subjects but it more accurately describes the manner in which this generational trauma unfolds and finally evokes our empathy for these three people.
Lilka Elbaum kicks off this story by describing the aforementioned painting. Well over seventy five years old, the painting played silent witness to her family being rounded up from the ghetto and turned in to death camps. The painting serves only as the opening focus as Paul Celler and Roni Ben Ari join her to experience the old city for themselves. Together the three weave tales of every day life and terrible trauma to recognize each other in a city that has largely forgotten it’s history.
Genocide is not something simple to explore and cover, especially as the geographical home to history’s most notorious genocide. Lodz the city tends to look the other way, letting old buildings of Jewish neighborhoods fall by the wayside to decay and graffiti. Lilka, Paul, and Roni give the old stones meaning when they revisit them. Using old photographs and family stories they anchor the audience’s investment in what otherwise looks like dilapidated apartment buildings.The pain of those years can be felt in the details. Recounting individual steps and where tables used to exist feel exponentially more profound when put in the context of horrible loss. From the sharpest details we begin to see a broad picture of loss and working backwards can feel the hurt all three subjects feel. It’s an impressive trick and one that takes time to sink into a casual audience member, but it’s worth its weight in gold.
It might be enough to simply stop and rebuild the old lives of these three’s families, but the filmmaker goes above and beyond to recreate as much of this town in its original form as possible. With a dearth of archival material and an emphasis on bringing them to life we HEAR the trains engines firing up and the cries of Jews being sent to death camps. The middle section of the film really draws out the history of the Nazi takeover of this neighborhood. Whether we experience a “Ken Burns” effect over an ancient photograph or watch Paul wander in a museum, the film really works to bring the past to life. In its final moments it recreates entire photographs perfectly and demonstrates the tidal shift of time: brick floors become parks, walls turn into arches, and the small children playing disappear completely.
Still Life in Lodz plays somewhat episodically and therefore works well in chunks. As it stands I could easily see this movie catching praise from fans of Ken Burns’ work and from PBS watchers. It’s a powerful documentary with a sharp eye, bent on telling a story by the details rather than handing us the script. Much like the painting we learn context after the initial visit and so grow in our understanding. This film truly impressed me for it’s poignant and sharp depiction of human loss and history’s erasure.
