Interviewer: Daria Weps

Why did directing become your way of telling stories about people and the world? How did this journey begin?
The idea of a film-related career started to take root when I was in high school, though from today’s perspective, I see that directing was what I was truly searching for.  Back then, however, I didn’t think I could tell or create stories. I definitely preferred listening and observing. Even now, when I’m in a large group, I tend to hold back rather than speak up. Back then, this felt like it was limiting me more than helping me. As a child and teenager, I was part of various theatre and film groups. I performed on stage as an amateur actress, but my favourite part was the preparation process for a performance. I can still recall the incredible tension that accompanied me before every show. And when films began to appear on DVD, I was most fascinated by the “making of” materials – I would watch them so often the discs would wear out.

So you already knew back then that you were going to be a director?
I felt a strong interest in it, so I started thinking about what to do next. But I didn’t really have the courage to go straight into directing. I thought: maybe set design, maybe production? At that time, I didn’t fully understand who did what in filmmaking, so I chose... journalism at the University of Wrocław. It’s a broad programme – we could create our own class schedule, and when I printed mine out, it turned out that all of my courses were related to film. It was a time of finding my voice, experimenting with small film projects. I learned a lot there, and after three years, I finally gained the courage to apply for exams at the Warsaw Film School.

Working on a film production requires months, sometimes years of effort, determination, and finding your own path and means of expression. What motivates you to keep going?
I waited eight years for my debut, and that doesn’t feel like a long time at all. I have read somewhere that female directors often wait until they are around fifty to make their debut, whereas men typically do so around forty. It was very discouraging, and to make matters worse, when I first got into Warsawy Film School, I was convinced I wouldn’t make it there. I didn’t really believe I belonged in the world of film. For the first few weeks, I didn’t even unpack in my rented studio apartment. But after making my first short film at school, which was well-received, I started thinking seriously about my debut. By the time I finished my studies, I knew what story I wanted to tell – this one, and no other. The plot of “There Will Be No Other End” had been forming in my mind for several years. I didn’t know when I’d make it, but I was certain that I would. There are many career paths after studying directing: I could have worked on other people’s sets or developed my skills directing TV series. For a long time, I wondered if it was wise to stake everything on this debut. But I’m stubborn, and I’ve given a part of my life to this film, so I chose to follow my own path.

In your films – both your shorts and your latest, “Innego końca nie będzie” [“There Will Be No Other End”, editor’s note] – you explore complex interpersonal relationships, subjects that are difficult to discuss and even harder to portray convincingly on screen. Where do you draw your inspiration from, and what is the biggest challenge in making these kinds of films?
The inspiration for “Inka” came from a news story about a woman whose neighbours broke her window to frighten her. She knew them by face, by name. I began to wonder what was going through their minds when they did that – what led them to act that way. How old was she? Where was she sitting? What had she been doing before? My imagination immediately started to work on the story. It might sound a bit cliché, but in every story, it ultimately comes down to the questions the author asks themselves and the emotions they grapple with. That’s what I love most about storytelling, especially in cinema – when a film tackles a big topic but presents it using a particular nuance. When I watch a film, I feel like its creator is talking to me, forcing me to think, explore the topic from a given perspective, and focus on a key detail. To answer the second part of your question: the biggest challenge is that very few people believe in a story when they first see it on paper. It’s not immediately clear that it will resonate and draw audiences to the cinema. All my productions so far have been simple stories, relatively inexpensive to make in the sense that they didn’t require huge financial resources. But the greatest cost is time. Films need time – in pre-production, during shooting, and in post-production – to find the right means of expression and tell the story authentically. You can’t film several emotionally charged scenes in a single day; both creators and actors have their limits. It’s not easy to find a producer and team who understand and feel that. For me, it was incredible that we were able to achieve that with my debut.

You brought together both experienced and up-and-coming actors for “There Will Be No Other End”, including Bartłomiej Topa, Agata Kulesza, Maja Pankiewicz, and Sebastian Dela. What was it like working with such a team, and what did you learn from the experience?
It was the best work in the world, just as I had always imagined. We had long conversations, questioning every line of dialogue, and there was mutual respect throughout. For a time, we managed to create a little family. Perhaps the only thing I’d change in the future is to have more rehearsals with the actors. Rehearsals are amazing! I’ve definitely gained more self-confidence and learned to overcome my introversion or shyness. Working with them has given me more empathy, but also made me realise how much more I still want to learn. As you mentioned, actors like Agata and Bartek have years of experience, but we also had Klementyna Karnkowska, who is a raw talent with incredible charisma – we were all captivated by her. It was great to see how they inspired each other. For me, as a debuting director, it was like directorial gymnastics, as each actor needed a different approach.

What do you remember most?
There are two moments that stand out to me, and they felt like real gifts. The first one came from Agata Kulesza, who always arrived on set with ideas for her scenes. Once, when we couldn’t agree on the tone of a particular line, I started to worry if I could clearly explain why I wanted to stick to my vision. At one point, she just waved her hand and said, “Okay, I’ve been thinking about this for days, but you’ve been thinking about this story for years. I trust you’re right”. That was incredibly empowering. She understood what mattered to me and respected it. The second moment – one that still gives me chills – was the farewell scene we shot with Bartek Topa.  It was an intense, high-stakes scene, filmed almost at the very beginning of production. It required a special atmosphere, just him and the camera. It was deeply moving, not only for me but for him as well, as we worked together to figure out how to convey those emotions. His trust in me during that moment had a lasting effect and carried me through the rest of the shoot.

The words the priest said to Ola at the cemetery still resonate: “To live, you have to live”. What message did you want to convey to viewers through “There Will Be No Other End”?
It was during filming that I realised the heart of the film’s message is in those words you quoted. When I was writing it, there were many possible messages. I hope this film makes viewers aware that sometimes we must accept that not all questions will have answers. And instead of scratching the wall in one place, sometimes we need to step aside and notice that there’s an open door nearby. Then it’s up to us to decide whether to walk through it or not. After speaking with the audience in Gdynia, I was reminded of something I’d written down in one of my earliest notes about the film: family is the place where we search for answers to the questions that haunt us. Sometimes uncomfortable questions come with uncomfortable answers.

And I guess we never really leave our family home, as the very first scene in the film shows.
Yes, even though Ola has lived far from her family home for several years, she has never truly left it. Regarding the film’s message, I want it to convey that we often have no idea when someone close to us is experiencing a crisis. It may sound strong, but our duty – our obligation – is to be sensitive to those around us.

Do you think the audience felt that?
I attended the festival without any expectations, and the opportunity to debut in Gdynia was significant for me. However, it turned out that our film resonated with audiences, filling all the rooms and sparking much discussion in the corridors. It was electrifying for us as creators. After the first screening, viewers shared their thoughts about the film and their personal experiences with losing a loved one. It struck me how many people have similar stories in their families and how much these experiences shape our futures.

I think that is something that changes us irreversibly.
Yes, we become more sensitive, we start to see more, feel more. I have to admit, the festival was full of surprises for me. For example, I found letters in the festival box from viewers who were deeply moved by the film. It felt like a reward for years of work, but more than that, it created a sense of community – a reminder that in mourning, you are not alone.

Do you think this is the most important role played by contemporary cinema?
In my opinion, cinema should play whatever role we want it to at a given moment. Depending on where we are in life, it can open up a dialogue, spark reflection, encourage internal confrontation, inspire, or even provoke anger. It definitely has the power to regulate and release emotions.

Which filmmaker do you admire the most? Do you have someone like that who serves as a guide for you?
I would love to have one, but I don’t. I used to believe in the idea of a master and disciple, but I haven’t had the chance to experience it myself. However, there are films that I treat as my mentors.

Will you tell us which ones?
Definitely “Incendies” directed by Denis Villeneuve – it’s a film I return to often. Also, the films of Jean-Marc Vallée – “Café de Flore” – who sadly passed away recently, but had the potential to surprise us with his narratives for many more years. I really appreciate the simple cinema of the Duplass brothers. They’re actors, producers, directors, and what they do feels very close to me. “City of God” by Fernando Meirelles made a huge impression on me, as did the works of Alejandro González Iñárritu, Joachim Trier, and Sarah Polley. I could go on; the list of films I regularly return to is quite long.

Finally, I wanted to ask – when are you heading to the Dr Irena Eris Krynica Zdrój 12+ SPA Hotel?
Oh, by the way! I was so surprised when I received the award, and just moments later, I spoke to my mother, who reminded me that I’d been to that hotel as a child. She said it was a fantastic trip. I only remember the snow! [laughter] But now there’s a chance to make up for it. I’m really grateful because it’s such a wonderful gift for a filmmaker after many years of working on a film. I dream of taking a break and going somewhere, not to write, but just to rest. I’d love to go in the autumn, although I’m sure it’s beautiful in the spring too.