Pawel Pawlikowski’s Oscar nominated Cold War, captured the lugubrious atmosphere of 1950s Poland perfectly in a stylish black and white film about two doomed lovers.
But moody ellipses and a teasing episodic structure present challenges for a stage adaptation. Director Rupert Goold’s fluid production is visually captivating, with scenes that shift from Poland to Paris, but Conor McPherson’s script doesn’t quite yield the same emotional truth - despite strong lead performances.
Pianist Wiktor (Luke Thallon) arrives in a Polish village with his colleague and lover Irena. (Alex Young)
They are auditioning performers to be part of a troupe who will travel Europe promoting folk music. Spirited Zula (Anya Chalotra) stands out for her talent and mysterious backstory; a city girl masquerading as innocently rural, she stabbed her abusive father.
While Irena balks at apparatchik pressure to produce performances extolling communist values, resistance proves futile. Promoter Kaczmarek (Elliot Levey in wide-boy mode) ensures propaganda songs about agriculture are plentiful.
The troupe heads to Berlin where Zula fails to make a rendezvous with Wiktor; a plan to defect gone awry. We shift to Paris years later. Wiktor is a successful composer, albeit with a mournful preoccupation for re-working folk tunes.
Capitalism and compromise bite at his heels: facile film producers, Wiktor’s hard-nosed poetess girlfriend. When Zula tracks Wiktor down, having married to be able to travel to find him, their passion remains strong, but the reality of adapting to life in the West plagues them, and Zula’s restless soul yearns for her homeland.
Wistful songs by Elvis Costello alongside haunting polyphonic folk tunes create an unusual score that works well to convey the repressed depths of characters’ emotions.
Choreography is frequently exuberant – the folk numbers, the rock 'n' roll explosion in a Parisian bar. Anya Chalotra plays defiant Zula with a Midlands accent; too abrasive in the early scenes, it’s later on that the searing directness lands.
Luke Thallon’s buttoned-up Wiktor is impressively soulful. In some scenes there’s too much exposition and over-stating of emotions, and the steady gaze of the camera is hard to replicate in its intimacy as powerfully on stage.
But the lovers' impossible predicament rings true.
Cold War runs at The Almeida until January 27, 2024.
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