25/03/2022 - In Bartosz Blaschke’s debut feature, a young man finds a reprieve from his disability through musical excellence

If we consider music or musical notation to be a language, it follows that some people could be more proficient in expressing themselves this way, compared to their spoken mother tongue. This is the predominant concern of Sonata [+see also:
trailer
film profile], the directorial debut by seasoned Polish screenwriter Bartosz Blaschke, which dramatises the life story of Grzegorz Płonka (brilliantly played by Michał Sikorski), a young man initially misdiagnosed with autism, who finds a profound outlet of self-expression through classical piano. Sonata is in the midst of a successful festival run, following its premiere at Gdynia last year; this month, it played at Sofia, where it waltzed off with the top prize, the Sofia City of Film Award (see the news).

Sonata also garnered the Audience Award at Gdynia, and this fact goes some way to explaining its distinct appeal and its accessibility to practically any viewer. There isn’t a trace of art-film chilliness or obfuscation in its make-up, yet it also avoids any Hollywood-style sugaring of the pill, never forcing a lifelong struggle into a tidy arc of redemption. Blaschke is always keyed into the existential uncertainty of Płonka’s ongoing journey: that any breakthrough or recognition for his musical talent may augur another cul-de-sac in his growth.

Grzegorz – referred to by his parents with the diminutives “Gresziek” and “Grześ” – begins the story in an unclear developmental stage: in the opening scenes, he is shown refusing to engage in juvenile activities in a class with Down syndrome-afflicted children, and responds to a kind address by his teacher with an upturned middle finger. His stepmother Małgorzata (Małgorzata Foremniak) exists in an eternal fug of “what are we to do with poor Gresziek”-type anguish, whilst his dad Łukasz (Łukasz Simlat) is more avoidant, preferring to focus on his quiet and solitary watch-repair work, whilst prophetically noting that what might help his son is if he would only “get out more and get laid”.

Two inciting triggers – Łukasz’s purchase of a junked baby grand piano for the living room, and the revelation that Grzegorz’s difficulties rather lie in a hearing condition – set the story on its eventual course, an unsentimental look at the connected issues of disability, difference and social exclusion, all told very consciously from the vantage point of the early 2020s, where the mores of the preceding decades are shown in all their misunderstanding and prejudice.

The gradual treatment of his hearing issues – first with an aid accentuating lower frequencies on the auditory spectrum, and then an electronic implant replacing his ear canal entirely – goes hand in hand with his near-miraculous proficiency with, and love of, music, particularly Ludwig van Beethoven and his piano compositions “Moonlight Sonata” and “Für Elise”, now of course overplayed in adverts and call-centre hold music. But their ubiquity is redeemed, for us in the audience, and also for our lead’s growing retinue of admirers in the film, by the sheer passion of Grzegorz’s performances: banging and knocking on the low-register keys, vesting these old warhorses from the classical repertoire with discordant and sometimes arrhythmic vitality.

One of Blaschke’s most subtle directorial gambits is keeping non-diegetic music to a minimum, so Grzegorz’s contributions can rise with uncanny grace out of the naturalistic cinematography and drab sound mix of real-life noises. He does shoot for a final, triumphant public performance at a specialised recital for disabled musicians, which we could’ve foreseen from the beginning of the second act. But it still captures a special poignancy, knowing what Grześ has been through, and what he will still have to endure, with the odds so cruelly against him.

Sonata is a Polish production staged by Media Brigade, with backing from the Polish Film Institute.