Many film scholars have provoked the idea of a Polish New Wave, a movement that represented a seismic shift in the cinema of a country that was hit quite hard by the burden of communism, on the same level of a number of other USSR-aligned countries. Yet, it has been questioned whether the films produced between the 1950s and 1970s actually can count, since there are arguments that these works were more part and parcel of a collective artistic mentality, rather than being confined to a particular movement (to the point where theoretical works have been written and hotly contested on this very matter), with the general consensus being that the best descriptor is the “Polish Film School”. Regardless, we saw a number of incredible films produced over the decades throughout Poland, each one adding yet another piece to the eternally growing puzzle that was the nation and its varying responses to the influence of Soviet rule. One of the more potent (but also sadly underpraised) entries is Man on the Tracks (Polish: Człowiek na torze), the most well-known film by Andrzej Munk, whose tragic demise only a few years after this film, which many consider to be his crowning achievement, adds to the melancholy intrigue of the film. The story, which focuses on the death of an elderly railway worker, who dies by the very hand of the profession he dedicated his entire life to serving, takes the form of a dark, twisted attempt at revolutionizing the film noir genre, which Munk does through taking on the more popular aspects, and employing them into this film, putting these components alongside the slow-burning, quietly ruminative sense of intrigue that governs most of the story, and creating something entirely unforgettable in the process.

Man on the Tracks is the kind of film that never tells you too much, nor does it withhold information unnecessarily – we know what we need to know, and everything else is irrelevant, since the concept is to be present for the specific moment shown on screen, rather than submitting to our very human tendency to scratch around in the hopes of uncovering clues that would help explain the intricacies of the story. Munk made a deconstructive mystery film, one where the purpose of the story isn’t to only solve the crime, but also the nature of it, with questions of whether it was an accident, suicide or murder, which forms the foundation of the film. Yet, it is so much more complex than this, especially in its efforts to penetrate the psychology of both the victim and the potential suspects that the police believe had some motivation to commit what they’re starting to gather was an intentional death. This abstract approach to a murder mystery is contrasted with the socio-cultural background of the film, with Man on the Tracks painting a particularly vivid portrait of a distinct time in European history, exploring the peaks of Communism, both in its infancy and after it had been consolidated as a seemingly indelible system in the nation, through the eyes of the community at large, which is often a quality of films that dare to take on the political institution. The director himself is bringing a sense of first-hand experience to the proceedings, as his own youth was spent briefly as a member of a local, low-level branch of the Communist Party, from which he was duly expelled for misbehaviour, which certainly explains the renegade tone of this film and its incredulity towards the political system it is built on.

What makes Man on the Tracks so compelling is the lack of a binary approach, which comes from the director’s ambigious structuring of this story, alternating between the present, flashbacks and speculative constructions. There isn’t anything close to a cut-and-dry concept of “good” and “evil” – all of the characters are coloured in with varying shades of humanity, being both admirable in some aspects, and abhorrent in others. Not even the doomed victim receives our sympathy, since he is shown to be just as hubristic and unlikeable as the people who are suspected of his murder. The character motivations are left intentionally vague, which means that every judgment we make is based on our own instinctual perception, rather than any clues left for us throughout the film. There is something about mystery films that are set on trains that are so incredibly compelling – these are confined spaces, where someone is surrounded by many strangers, and where escape isn’t easy. Yet, this is still a vessel in rapid transit, constantly moving, meaning that there isn’t much time to linger or marinade on the clues, with the destination being just over the horizon. Munk makes sure that every possible detail that can elevate this film is found somewhere in the story – even if it may occasionally feel somewhat stilted, it all proves to be very much relevant to the tone and themes, which find the director actively approaching these ideas without becoming too heavy-handed in the execution. It makes a fundamental difference, because when dealing with a story as intimate and character-driven as this, it is extremely helpful to approach it from a perspective where it says just enough, but not too much.

A pioneering work of this era in Polish cinema history, and one of the closest examples we have to a cohesive representation of a New Wave movement, Man on the Tracks is an absolute triumph. It may not be a particularly complex film, since it follows a relatively familiar pattern and never seems to be entirely averse to relying on conventions when they’re useful. The key to the film’s success comes in terms of the growing unease that arrives as a result of the genuinely unsettling story – we see glimpses into the past, which are contrasted with alleged reconstructions based on speculation, which means that we never know what is real, and what is merely the product of discussion. Right until the end, we aren’t sure where the film is heading, and considering the resolution is yet another manifestation of a theory, the film arguably doesn’t have any of the answers to the question it so boldly asks. Yet, Man on the Tracks is not a film that is seeking out answers in the first place. Instead, it is a dark and cynical work of anti-communist fiction that demonstrates a deep fury towards the political institution, and a sense of hopelessness to the drone-like following its leader receives from the general public. Passionate but fiery in all the ways that matter, Man on the Tracks is an exceptional and undeniably essential work of socially charged filmmaking that is vital for anyone with even the vaguest interest in this era of politics, and the impact it had on the general public, and artists in particular.