War films take many different forms, so to classify them as some homogenous mass (normally restricted to the specific war being shown), is one of cinema’s biggest challenges, at least on the part of those who tend to see them all as being part-and-parcel of the same ideas. Like any genre, there has been a decent amount of challenging of conventions over the course of its existence, with individual filmmakers offering their own perspective and giving individual insights into the experience of being in a time of war, whether directly from their own first-hand accounts, or simply from the social and political zeitgeist that defined their generation. It’s led to many different works that are as diverse as they are memorable, and for Andrzej Wajda, war meant something more than just excessive violence and enormous battles, as made abundantly clear in his masterful trilogy of war films produced in the 1950s, the last of which is the subject of today’s discussion. Ashes and Diamonds (Polish: Popiół i diament), is widely considered one of the finest films in Poland’s long and varied cinematic history, and has become somewhat definitive of a particular era when the nation was arguably in its artistic peak, with the decades following the Second World War bringing an abundance of unique and insightful stories into the fray, of which Wajda is capable of picking through the fragments and putting together an absolutely masterful film that blends wartime drama with an unsettling psychological thriller. Not the easiest film in both the themes it focuses on, and the manner in which Wajda realizes them visually, Ashes and Diamonds is nonetheless a vital piece of cinema – a shocking but entrancing work that traverses boundaries and presents us with a very different perspective on war, it’s unsurprising that this as been canonized as one of the most important war films to come out of Europe, featuring many fascinating ideas in a way that most contemporary attempts to replicate such successes have failed to replicate.

Simplicity is certainly the element that is most predominant when looking at Ashes and Diamonds, which could’ve very easily have fallen victim to the tendency of many filmmakers, who often curate stories of wartime horrors in ways that come across as excessive and vaguely blasé about certain issues. From the outset, we already know that war isn’t something that should be taken lightly, so there isn’t much need for the film to educate us in this regard – and it mercifully avoids such conversations, instead launching us directly into the midst of a mission between two mercenary soldiers, who have been given the assignment to assassinate a rival politician who is a threat to their political ideology, and must be eliminated before he can take over the country and disseminate his ideas, which are contradictory to what they believed the country would benefit from. This all takes place over the course of a single day, which gives the film the necessary structure to propel itself forward and explore the more interesting, understated aspects of the story, which would normally be an after-thought in the midst of laborious conversations of the many horrors of war. Wajda was a prolific filmmaker who may have still be a relatively young upstart at this time, but already exhibited a keen control of both form and content, which he channels perfectly throughout Ashes and Diamonds, making it far more than just a run-of-the-mill war drama, and instead allowing it to flourish into one of the most cerebral glimpses into the psychological and social impact of war that is far more widespread than the tales we hear told from the bloodied battlefields. There is much more to war than the binary perspective that many works tend to imply, and as demonstrated here, it’s possible to craft something utterly harrowing, but still incredibly insightful, to the harsh realities of war, beyond the common perspectives.

European war dramas are often defined by their ability to get straight to the point – and Wajda was an early pioneer of this idea, not wasting a single moment in Ashes and Diamonds for discussions that would just be reiterating what the audience knew already. This leaves ample space for a deep, insightful glimpse into the mentalities that surround those involved in the war, albeit not those in the battlefields, but rather in a more metaphorical theatre of war, the cities ravaged by the decline (both social and architectural) that is anticipated in times of conflict. Wajda paints a haunting portrait of Warsaw in shambles – and situating the film in the final days of the Second World War allows him to explore the extent to which every aspect of the city (and by extent, the entire country) had fallen victim to the tyrannical actions of those who had very little hesitation in bringing a whole nation to its knees. The director was clearly angry, and considering he is someone who came of age during the war, he had every right to assert his fury into the form of this vitriolic indictment on war. However, he does so quite creatively, crafting an unforgettable film that often borders on satirical in how it deconstructs the fragile egos the existed on both sides of the divide, and managed to demonstrate the extents to which those indoctrinated by one ideology of the other will go to prove that their beliefs are dominant. Wajda never lets anyone off the hook – both sides receive their comeuppance, and while neither is villainized in a traditional sense, there is a complete lack of pity felt to both, with most of our sympathy residing with those who passively observe the decline of society, which occurs all around them with startling rapidity and a ferocity that makes it very clear that escape is almost entirely impossible.

The machinations of war are always fascinating to see on screen when they’re formed by a writer and director who has a clear artistic vision. In the case of Ashes and Diamonds, the aspect that makes it so compelling is how it dives deeper than just being a cursory overview of Polish wartime issues, and looks into the psychological aspects of the period as well, and some of the more abstract challenges faced by those who found themselves trapped in this era. The film carefully curates a shocking but profound story of the ways in which society functioned when all hope was steadily declining, and all that remained was a sense of nihilistic dread that lurked omnipotent over the lives of the general population. It’s a concept that lurks beneath most war films, but only really manifests well in the case of those that are fully committed to looking beyond the obvious horrors of war. Wajda was entirely intent on exposing the veneer of jingoistic celebrations, taking on something far more complex than a traditional anti-war manifesto, and in the process managed to strike something quite profound. As seen through the eyes of the protagonist, a scrappy young guerilla soldier played by Zbigniew Cybulski (who everyone who writes about this film is contractually-obligated to refer to as “the Polish James Dean”, both for his dashing style of acting and his tragic demise early on in his career), who is conflicted about his place in a war clearly not designed to benefit people like him (if it benefits anyone at all). It’s a striking character-study contained within a stunningly harrowing film about the impact of war – and every moment feels absolutely genuine through the collision of a great leading performance, and a director who knew how to perfectly encapsulate wartime angst in a way that is thoroughly believable.

It’s not a mistake that Ashes and Diamonds is the most well-known of this loose trilogy of war films, because many of the ideas of the previous two (which will be discussed in due course) can be found embedded in every corner of this film, the stark realism, the scathing commentary and the commitment to going beyond the confines of the traditional wartime drama, to deliver something much more profound in how it tackles some intimidating ideas. Wajda was a profoundly gifted filmmaker whose talents knew no bounds, as evident in his long career of exploring a number of fascinating themes. Ashes and Diamonds is possibly his most famous work, both for being a pinnacle of an era in Polish filmmaking where the seeds of revolution were being sown by a small but passionate group of artists who were willing to put their own freedom at risk for the sake of expressing their views on their country, and as a remarkable work of wartime fiction on its own terms. Beautifully-made (the cinematography by Jerzy Wójcik lingers with you long after the film has ended), and manifested with a kind of authorial vision we don’t see very often, Ashes and Diamonds is a revolutionary film, one that may stop just short of being an absolute masterpiece, because it is a film that challenges us beyond what most will be comfortable with – but it’s in this tendency to push the envelope and go in pursuit of something more profound that we discover the inner brilliance of a film that feels authentic and energizing, while still giving us shocking insights into a grim version of reality that many of us may not have encountered before seeing the tragic beauty of Wajda’s incredible and harrowing vision.