Interview With Joshua Polanski (Discursions in Time Film Club)
In this illuminating exchange, UNSPOKEN CINEMA interviews Joshua Polanski (There Were No Gods Left), a scholar and critic whose background in the academic study of religion and political theology provides a unique lens for examining the contemplative world of "slow cinema". As the organizer of the online guided film club "Discursions in Time: Slow and Poetic Cinema(s)," (See program here) Polanski argues that slowness is not a monolith but a diverse practice holding multitudes—from the decolonial "Malay time" of Lav Diaz to the stark materialism of Wang Bing.
The discussion traverses Polanski's personal history, including his shared academic roots with Paul Schrader at Calvin College, while pivoting toward his specialized passion for the "Baltic Soul." He provides a compelling defense of the cinema of Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia, highlighting how these regions used poetic documentary and formal experimentation as a form of quiet rebellion against Soviet-era regulation.
UNSPOKEN CINEMA: Hi Joshua. Thank you for agreeing to this interview, and for organising such a beautiful event : an online guided film club around Slow & Poetic Cinema. Before getting into the subject, could you tell us about yourself… You have graduated in the academic study of religion and political theology, this must inform a unique relationship with cinema. How do you view cinema in general and Slow Cinema in particular through this angle? Do you seek for the spiritual like Paul Schrader’s Transcendental Style in Film (1972) or do you consider Slow Cinema a secular practice and endeavour above all?
JOSHUA POLANSKI: Great question. I think my academic background helps me most of all with being able to closely read a "text" through its relationship to power. And, in many ways, slow cinema is ripe with interesting case studies on this front. The films we most commonly associate with the so-called slow cinema movement tend to be films from outside of North America and Western Europe, the center of global power. The Filipino filmmaker Lav Diaz, for instance, claims to be trying to capture “Mindanao time” or “Malay time," which is, in some way, counter to the capitalistic experience of time we have here in North America.
My degrees also help me more practically too when it comes to understanding the religious context of aesthetics when relevant. You bring up Paul Schrader and it's ironic because I went to the same, small Christian undergraduate school as him (Calvin College). We held the same position at the student paper too. I crossed paths with him a few times. So, of course, his thoughts in Transcendental Style have influenced me. It's possible to make slow cinema in this more spiritual tradition(s). The incredibly spiritual Inside the Yellow Cocoon Shell from a few years ago is a great example of this. We will look at some of these films in our club too. The Tsai Ming-liang film we are watching is in a very direct way about a different way to be present in the world—a way that comes from a conversation with Buddhism.
On Schrader, I also think his own orientalism skews his view of Ozu to the point that he is largely wrong about the great Japanese director... but that's a conversation for another day. He also has some very serious allegations against him now too.
At the end of the day, I don't think slow cinema is just one thing. It is many things and none at the same time. It can be very spiritual—and from a variety of different kinds of spiritualities too—as we will see. It can also be materialistic, as with something like Wang Bing's Youth (Spring). There, the slowness of the passing of time is meant to be experienced in a way that doesn't point us to any spiritual truths but rather makes us feel the work of these textile laborers. Slow cinema is diverse and it holds multitudes.
UNSPOKEN CINEMA: I like how you differentiate between Lav DIAZ (decolonialism) and WANG Bing (materialism) since they address politics (or lack thereof) in very different fashion.
How and when did you discover Slow Cinema? Which was the first film that made you think, out there, exists another kind of cinema and that you were going to dive into its (contemplative) embrace?
JOSHUA POLANSKI: There are a few ways I could answer this question. Chronologically, much like (and probably because of) Schrader, it would have been Robert Bresson's Pickpocket. I was a first year college student and I rented the film from a Family Video back when those were still around. I watched it with someone else and they fell asleep 10 minutes in. I was mesmerized and tried to get the other person to watch it with me after they woke up.
I didn't follow up on this impulse the way I should have. That took me time. When Schrader came to campus for the premiere of First Reformed, that sparked me to really dive more in-depth and to chase this other, non-Hollywood cinema that I found more interesting.
Right around the same time, I found Jia Zhangke's A Touch of Sin. I watched that film at 3:00am and immediately rewatched it after finishing it. I have never done that before or since. There was no going back after finding Jia. Ironically, I would find out shortly after, A Touch of Sin might be his most kinetic film. Still Life is my favorite of his. I love how he breaks his realism with fantasy there. I cried the first time I saw the building fly away. It was such a rupture with the meandering style preceding. There is no reason slow cinema should be married to realism.
UNSPOKEN CINEMA: True. We have the “magic realism” of Roy ANDERSSON, Elia SULEIMAN, BI Gan, Matthew BARNEY, Pedro COSTA, and some films from TSAI Ming-Liang, Carlos REYGADAS or Apichatpong WEERASETHAKUL…
There Were No Gods Left, your blog, is the only active English-language website dedicated to the niche interest: Baltic Cinema. What is it exactly in the aesthetic of Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia (maybe particularly “Baltic Poetic Documentary”) that resonates so deeply with you? Do you know people over there? Do you have Baltic contacts?
To the uninitiated, could you explain what defines the Baltic spirit in cinema and how their brand of Slow Cinema differs from others? Do you have an example in mind of a single film or filmmaker to discover Baltic Cinema and leave you wanting for more?
JOSHUA POLANSKI: The birth of cinema as we think it today is really, in no small part, thanks to Sergei Eisenstein. He was born and raised in Riga, Latvia, though he was an ethnic Russian. When we talk about Baltic cinema, in some ways, we are just talking about the story of cinema more broadly because of this.
It's difficult to characterize any regional cinema, let alone national cinema, even for countries as small as Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. Only with this concession can we talk about something of a Baltic spirit though. It's ironic you use that phrase. I'm leading some Q&As with filmmakers at the Boston Baltic Film Festival later this month and their slogan is "get to know the Baltic soul." I like that word because it implies a strength of life and perhaps resilience that I think you find broadly in Baltic cinema. Resilience and memory might be two of the biggest themes across Baltic cinema.
It's also a region with a lot of formal experimentation. I think of a lot of the films of the Lithuanian director Jonas Mekas here. His "diary" films are fully original and deeply personal excavations of memory, loss, and identity—topics and questions that festered in him after leaving Lithuania for the United States during the Nazi invasion. Mekas isn't usually thought of as part of the Baltic poetic tradition, but he shares so much with those filmmakers. Robertas Verba, one of the best known filmmakers in the movement, even made a short documentary about Mekas' second return to Lithuania in 1977.
The Baltic countries have rich histories of animation and documentary, in part because these were less regulated genres by the USSR. The Baltic poetic documentary tradition (really, traditions) comes in this context. Baltic poetic filmmaking, speaking broadly but especially of the Riga school, followed an impulse to find beauty in mundane life and avoid straightforward answers in favor of ambiguity. There is often very little talking, usually no plot in the conventional sense, and they were politically apolitical. The rejection of agit-prop and the Soviet house style for documentaries was political itself.
We're watching many Baltic films in this club. One really fun one will be the Estonian short Pikk Street, which is composed of largely non-sequitur documentary footage from a single street in Tallinn. The Estonian character of the town comes through much more than any attempts at Russification. One way to interpret the final shots is as an explicit rejection of the Russification of Estonia. And all of this is communicated without words.
We will also be watching Uldis Brauns' 235 000 000, which is a truly remarkable film. It was made in honor of the 50th anniversary of the October Revolution and the title refers to the number of people living in the Soviet Union at the time. In the tradition of Dziga Vertov's A Sixth Part of the World, the Latvian crew traveled all across the USSR to capture the daily life of its diverse citizens. We see the full gamut of human life in a poetic beauty and through a fully humanizing lens. It's one of the greatest films ever made and I'm excited to share it with the rest of the group.
I do have lots of Baltic contacts. In the respective countries and expats. I also have Kazakh and Russian family members, which, though still totally different cultures, has been helpful as I've grown more passionate about cinema from Eastern Europe and the former Soviet bloc.
UNSPOKEN CINEMA: Eisenstein (who is a genius of cinema history) is like the antithesis of Slow Cinema... My only acquaintance with the “Baltic soul” would be Sharunas Bartas, a master of Contemplative Cinema, whose films share these same themes of resilience and memory (mutism/alienation too maybe).
Now about the film club, could you deconstruct its title for us: ‘Discursions in Time: Slow and Poetic Cinema(s) — A Guided Film Club’, each word is important here. Notably, why “Discursions”, “Cinema(s)”, “Guided”? What is this online film club all about?
JOSHUA POLANSKI: I don't want it to feel like a course. I'm not some lofty expert who has spent a life dedicated to this topic. I also, selfishly, am interested in learning alongside the fellow club members. We will use a few different loosely structured formats in our discussions. We want to make sure everyone has a chance to contribute. We will also use a variety of formats since not every format works for every person. Everyone learns and engages in discussion differently.
That said, it is guided and I will contextualize the films (and readings) when needed. I will share from my own experience talking with slow cinema directors like Lav Diaz and Wang Bing, among others. My familiarity with Baltic cinema, I hope, will make it a more interesting and learning-filled experience for others since most people, even those familiar with slow/poetic/contemplative film, tend to have limited engagement with the region's cinema. Some people are coming with open minds and very little experience with so-called slow cinema. And that's great! Others, like you, are coming with a wealth of experience and thoughts and feelings. And that is also great!
I chose "discursions" because not every slow/poetic film is alike. I like how "discursions" is plural. Akerman uses the slow ticking of the clock (a la depression) in a very different way from the oppressive endurances in a Béla Tarr film. Time (and sisterhood) heals in Smoke Sauna Sisterhood, which may be the most controversial inclusion on the list. At the same time, these are films that have something in common: time, or perhaps more simply, the shot, transgresses from their mainstream cinema peers. These films and filmmakers are up to something (or somethings!) that forces deeper contemplation, even meditation at times (not unlike the Christian practice of Lectio Divina / Visio Divina).
Poetic is an important word because sometimes people, mistakingly, assume "slow equals boring" or "slow equals nothing happens" and that misses the mark. (It also assumes there is nothing worth treasuring in boredom). The word adds a little something about the goal of these filmmakers. Their images capture real life poetically: sometimes beautifully, sometimes tragically, always with complexity. The word "poem" comes from the Latin "poema" which means "to create." Sometimes people mistakenly characterize slow cinema as devoid or empty of style (Schrader on Ozu), but that's a terribly poor understanding of the motion picture artform. These films, even when they have very long static shots, are still rich in direction and the decisions that go into them. They are not "empty." That's one of many reasons why I chose "poetic" as part of the title.
UNSPOKEN CINEMA: Why do viewings take place online, in isolation, and not in a communal theatre? How many attendees do you expect by the last meeting? Why not try a remote watch party (with an accompanying Discord server) as it is popular these days?
JOSHUA POLANSKI: It's mostly just practicality. We already have people from, I believe, three or maybe four different time zones. It would be difficult to do in a theater, especially with the added cost of paying for distribution. I love the idea though and it could be possible one day.
I thought about the Discord watch party. It could be possible, especially for some of the shorts. But timing, ironically, was of the essence here. The last two meetings, in particular, have films with really long run-times and it would be difficult for people to all find the same chunk of hours to watch the films. We all have busy lives and we don't all live in the same place, so it may be very difficult to find the exact same time to watch the almost 11 hours of Evolution, for example. Maybe in the future though! Or perhaps, if the group wants, we could discuss adding a final week where we watch a film off the list as a celebration at the end. If demand is there, it's certainly something I'd consider.
Registration is still open and has been growing each day. Almost every one, with one or two exceptions, can make every meeting too. Beyond their own cinephilic interests, I'm hoping the structure and community of the club encourage people to attend. That's also, to be honest, the biggest reason for the fee. When people pay for something, they feel invested in it.
UNSPOKEN CINEMA: It makes sense. So what is the procedure to join? I notice you offer a discount with a proof of donation to support anti-ICE protests in Grand Rapids, Michigan (where you’re from in the USA) or Minnesota. I like this militant posture. Will the online debate be political in nature? Is it crucial for you to merge cinema culture and political engagement?
JOSHUA POLANSKI: The procedure to join is simply an email to me saying hello (joshuapolanski16@gmail.com). I will then confirm payment and scheduling logistics with individuals. They will receive Google calendar invites for each individual meeting.
The United States is, as I'm sure you're aware, in a dangerous place right now. Every day our neighbors are being kidnapped in the streets. I wanted the club to, in a small way, fight against this. I had one person pay for 5 seats for people who may not be able to afford it easily. And they made a large donation to an immigrant law group in Minnesota. It is within the rebellious tradition of the filmmakers we will be watching together.
Our discussion will largely stick to the films we are viewing. But these are very political films too, especially the final three meetings. We also only have one film from the US and it's a 14 minute short by two excellent trans women directors. I didn't realize my own bias against my own country in regards to the list until now. MCI-LAX is actually one of the films I was most excited to include. Politics are fair game for discussion as it relates to the films, their contexts, and our reactions to them. I could see the horrendous conditions of my country coming up in Evolution of a Filipino Family, for example, or Seven Songs from the Tundra.
UNSPOKEN CINEMA: Indeed, it’s critical to be critical before it’s too late...
The lineup of this event, with 16 compulsory titles and 9 optional titles, spans from LUMIERE (1898) to WANG Bing (2023). How did you build this list? I believe it is pretty significant to include Lumière, as the origin of Contemplative Cinema (not everyone recognizes this fact), but why a narrative fiction instead of one of his magnificent documentaries?
JOSHUA POLANSKI: I spent a long time building this list. It went through several iterations and I was balancing a variety of things. I was thinking through the "canonical" or essential films/filmmakers and wanted to balance those with less familiar titles and filmmakers. I didn't only want to do a few of the "big" films: Turin Horse; Jeanne Dielman; Stalker; Goodbye, Dragon Inn. etc.
I also was balancing the load. That was the hardest part. There were so many great films and filmmakers, but I wanted to not turn people off with an unwieldy workload. At the same time, this is a club for a reason and I thought people would be up for a challenge. The last few weeks reflect that: these are long and, at times, difficult films. Our group is there as an incentive. If you watch an 11 hour film, of course you'll want to talk about it!
I really leaned into my own strengths too when building the list. I wanted to make sure I have a lot to bring to the conversation as a baseline for our conversation.
I don't think there was a wrong choice with Lumière. I could have chosen any number of films and it would have been excellent. I chose The Execution of Joan of Arc because I thought many people in the group would be much more familiar with several of the more famous documentaries. I also think it pairs really well with Berlin Horse that same week for a discussion of violence and contemplative cinema. They handle violence very differently. But you're right. I could have chosen any number of Lumière films.
UNSPOKEN CINEMA: I commend you for a remarkable selection of films (half of which I didn’t know existed, so I’m excited to discover them). “Slow Cinema” is too often too broad a net that catches mere precursors, borderline entries or films simply not “slow” at all.
Are you attempting to train the participants’ attention span by opening with shorts and closing with an epic duration like Lav DIAZ’s film? There is food for everyone, from the neophytes to the aficionados (or “cinemaholics” as you call them), do you expect your attendance to follow your program at various speeds and come together for a collegial finale at the end of the journey (in just 3 months)?
JOSHUA POLANSKI: That's one way to put it. We are building our attention spans as we go along. It also makes sense to me to start with a wide palate of the various types of slow / contemplative cinema: from cinema's origins itself with Lumière to digital slow cinema with the Jane Evelyn and Elaine Fuentes short.
Yes, that's the hope. That we will all be at the same speed, as it were, for the finale. I'll be watching everything on the list. I suppose I am a cinemaholic. There will be a variety of opinions and good-natured disagreements on the way there, and we will hold those with us in polarity much like the contradictions of life in films we watch. Either way, it is my hope that our speed will be similar to the walker in Journey to the West!
UNSPOKEN CINEMA: Slowly but surely. In meeting #2, you offer a choice between Chantal AKERMAN’s News From Home and Béla TARR’s The Turin Horse, why this pairing? And what will come out of the discussion between viewers of a different film in this case?
JOSHUA POLANSKI: I'm really excited for this week. The pairing is partly to put side-by-side two of the greats in slow cinema as we talk about some key themes like memory, boredom, and longing. The optional film that meeting, Seven Songs from the Tundra, I see as something of a bridge between the two.
I gave the option because I know many people will have seen one or both already. They are probably the most popular films on the list. We will also spend some time in small groups with the others who chose the same title as us. In the large group, those who watched one film or the other will "represent" their film as we circle back to some of the bigger questions in slow and poetic cinema that we will establish in the first meeting. It's tough to know exactly what will come out of the discussion since we haven't had it yet though! As I said, it won't be a class. So our discussion will depend on our fellow members.
UNSPOKEN CINEMA: That’s right, I forgot you said there were going to be different forms of debates and organisations in store for each meeting…
In your Film Club description you say “we will even debate whether or not there even is an identifiable movement or aesthetic that we can accurately call ‘slow cinema’.” So what is your position regarding the discrepancy between “Slow Cinema” (as the anglophones call it) and “Contemplative Cinema” (as the French call it)? or is it a moot point?
JOSHUA POLANSKI: My position changes. Maybe it's boring, but I think neither "slow" nor "contemplative" cinema is just one thing. I suppose there is a difference in the verbiage. Slowness has more to do with time, poetic has more to do with the mise-en-scène, and contemplative describes the effect or (a) teleological function of the films. If we think about it this way, there could be a discrepancy. One can be one of these three things—or two—and not all three.
I'm interested to hear where people fit something like Smoke Sauna Sisterhood on this axis of slow, contemplative, and poetic. It could be argued it is both poetic and contemplative but not slow. I'd argue it is slow too, but in a different way than many of the other titles. It is visually or kinetically slow without being narratively slow, even though it's a "plotless" documentary. The passage of time plays a key role in the sauna, as we will see. And we become aware of that time, how the women are spending it, and also how we are responding to that passage of time. That sounds like slow cinema to me! I'm excited to hear others' thoughts when we get there.
UNSPOKEN CINEMA: Maybe “Poetic” will be the new consensual appellation… The existentialists and Modern Cinema named it “ennui” (as something positive); do you view “boredom” (which has a negative connotation) as a productive state? And why is it important to accept being bored without giving up on this cinema that will bring greater riches through this ordeal? Something to mull over before committing to this long haul film club maybe…
JOSHUA POLANSKI: Yes, of course. Boredom, or at least what we call boredom, can be a great thing. We need more of it. I recently read Silence: In the Age of Noise by Erling Kagge, the Norwegian explorer who became the first person to complete a solo expedition to the South Pole. Silence and boredom aren't one and the same thing, but they certainly have a lot in common. He wrote, “Shutting out the world is not about turning your back on your surroundings, but rather the opposite: it is seeing the world a bit more clearly, staying a course and trying to love your life. Silence in itself is rich. It is exclusive and luxurious. A key to unlock new ways of thinking. I don’t regard it as a renunciation or something spiritual, but rather as a practical resource for living a richer life.” Slow cinema does this for us if we let it. It opens space for contemplation, for moral growth, for spirituality. That's not something you're going to get from Ant-Man or whatever the latest superhero is.
At the same time, and contradictorily so, slow cinema can help us retrain what we think of boredom. It can help us become unboredable. Our attention spans have shrunk collectively as a society. People read less today. The moving pictures they engage with they consume rather than critically evaluate. We want to challenge this to the extent we can. We want to train our personal cinema palettes to find beauty in the slowness, in the silence. It will be a challenge, especially for those who are trying this for the first time, but it will be a rewarding experience.
UNSPOKEN CINEMA: That’s beautiful. Slow Cinema offers a rare sort of “sacred” silence; what this fertile void touches in yourself when you watch such films?
JOSHUA POLANSKI: Each film touches me differently. Some make me angry in a radical sort of way. Others make me grateful for this life. 235 000 000 is one of these films. I feel fully human watching it. I see myself in The Corridor, in ways I like ... and also in ways I don't like. That dissonance becomes a place of growth.
I like the word "fertile" in this context. They are all fertile in their own ways and they feed me differently.
UNSPOKEN CINEMA: Thank you Joshua, I really appreciated this discussion. See you at the first meeting on March 8th.
JOSHUA POLANSKI: Thank you too, Benoit, I look forward to talking with you even more and hearing your thoughts on these films in our group.
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