R*m*n P*l*nsk*

I have been delaying this blog post for some time. A week ago I started to think about how to approach it; then I wrote a number of intros, but ultimately the connections between them and my subject were floppy. Start talking about Paul McCartney’s new album — didn’t work. Start talking about Tarantino’s Hollywood project — also didn’t. About the time when I met Robert Towne — not good either. So (oh shit) here I go.

Roman Polanski.

Having escaped a Nazi concentration camp, formerly married to one of Manson’s victims (who was pregnant at the time of her murder), he is a legendary filmmaker with the most international career imaginable, responsible for some of the most important films in history, in the most varied styles and genres. He is also a notorious sex offender.

People are a mess.

Polanski has been arrested in several occasions, and is, to this day, a fugitive in the US. He hasn’t been here since the 70s I believe, and when the Academy granted him his Best Director statuette for The Pianist, someone had to accept it for him. He’s since been expelled, along with Harvey Weinstein, Bill Cosby, and others.

First of all, I will not try to defend Polanski. I don’t even think there’s a way to do that, even if someone really wanted to. He did, among other things, abuse a minor who was under the influence, which is obviously despicable no matter how fucked up his backstory may be. We can all agree on that, I hope.

What might be harder to do, however, is to look at his work independently from his life.

I can’t think of many people who have a more versatile portfolio than Roman Polanski. From New Wave essentials such as A Knife in the Water and Cul-de-Sac, venturing through silly innuendo-induced comedy in Fearless Vampire Killers, setting new standards for suspense and horror with Repulsion, Rosemary’s Baby, and The Tenant, meshing the classic noir with the New Hollywood vibe and aesthetics in Chinatown, keeping up with the most delicious nuances of dark humor in Carnage and Venus in Fur, and still having works such as Tess and Ghost Writer as backups in case someone runs out of good examples — this guy has done everything.

The challenge here is the age-old question: to what extent can one separate creation from creator?

Welp…

DW Griffith is credited as one of the inventors of modern cinematic language, having mastered the process of decoupage better than most people in his time (trying to avoid superlatives here). Yet Birth of a Nation (1915), a prime example of his technique and one of the most important films ever made, is an epic ode to the KKK, and one of the most openly racist works of art in history. (It was also the first film to ever be screened at the White House, btw.) True, the message it tries to convey is appalling, but it’s a fundamental moment in American history and art, and it is arguably among the 10 best films (cinematically speaking) of that decade. Griffith was an asshole, but he is pretty much one of the fathers of cinema, and that has nothing to do with his opinion on the Civil War.

Polanski is somewhat like that. It is undeniable that he’s one of the most talented directors to ever live. It is also undeniable that he’s a criminal. Whenever I think of him, I am completely divided. I won’t stop admiring his films, nor will I get angry at those who do. But I feel uncomfortable putting him on a pedestal and overlooking his actions.

Why not strike a balance, then?

Let’s suppose that all those films were made by someone whose personal life we know nothing about. The films still constitute a very solid sample, and they relate to each other in a nice way, thematically, stylistically, and so on. That is Polanski, the filmmaker, the author. That is the Polanski that anyone who has any inclination to like film should at least respect. Not personally; remember, we don’t know anything about that guy, because “that guy” is the films he makes. None of his perversion is necessarily reflected in any of those works. Here, Polanski=cinema.

Now think of the broader picture; imagine Polanski, the individual. Troubled, unhappy, criminal. That is someone who we can hardly admire. True, he is the same person made those films, on a physical level. But his personal actions don’t ever mix with what he has produced. His films would still be great had he abused the minor or not, for as horrible as that was. It’s important to say that one thing does not cover for the other.

So having the Academy kick him out for being who he is is absolutely right. But they weren’t wrong when they praised The Pianist — it is a hell of an expression of grief coming from a Holocaust survivor (again, thinking of him as the author of a work), and a beautiful film.

I do think he should be punished (as he has already been in the past). If that means he shouldn’t be able to make anymore films, that’s fair; the fact that someone like him can in a practical sense bask on his privilege is frankly horrible. But I won’t negate the work that he has done (even after the occurrence) just because of that. It’s unfair to the work itself.

This is not an apology. This is not a defense. This is not a manifestation of support. This is not in any way shape or form ignoring what the entity of Roman Polanski has done. If you got this far in this post and still didn’t understand that, I’m quite sorry for your friends and family.

Polanski, person, is a dick.

Polanski, cinema, is essential.

I admire one. I dread the other.

Fuck Manichaean duality.

I think I’ll watch Chinatown tonight.