In contrast to the Poland of 2013, which oozed economic potential and seemed to eager to further relations with NATO and western partners, the picture of Poland in 1962 that Pawel Pawlikowski paints is much more bleak. The film’s black and white frames pull the viewer back to a post-war communist Poland, where the collective memory and national identity of the Polish people is complicated and questioned through the story of Anna (Agata Trzebuchowska) and her aunt, Wanda (Agata Kulesza).

In the days before taking vows to become a nun, Anna is sent by the mother superior to meet her only living relative, who reveals that Anna is a Jew named Ida Lebenstein whose parents died during the war. Ida and her aunt set off across Poland to find where Ida’s parents are buried, starting with the village where Wanda and her sister Roza grew up. Their journey uncovers fragments of  Wanda Gruz’s past life as a state prosecutor where she was known for sending “enemies of the people” to their end. The film draws a comparison between the faithful, innocent, naive Ida and her life-hardened, bitter aunt who regularly engages in nights out, heavy drinking, one-night stands, and smoking. It is through this pair of characters that Pawlikowski presents his inquiry into the history and identity of Poland.

What is remarkable about “Ida” is the numerous and overlapping contrasts that Pawlikowski weaves into the film. Not only are the personalities and lifestyles of Wanda and Ida at odds with one another, but the two represent larger societal chasms. The most visibly obvious of these is generational. Wanda was witness to the war and remembers the invasion, occupation, and liberation as lived personal experiences. Ida, on the other hand, is part of the generation that grew up in its shadow of the war. Yet another contrast is that of ideology. Ida is a devout Catholic, and adheres to a tradition that has been an important part of Poland’s history. Although Wanda was once an active and proud member of the communist party, her idealism was dashed as the party betrayed the people’s revolution. This highlights the third of the film’s contrasts, that of devotion. In contrast to Wanda, who has lost her devotion, Ida remains pious, reading her bible and saying her prayers even as Wanda looks on condescendingly.

Both women are reflective of political and cultural sects present in Polish society. In this way, the tension in their interactions and the challenges they face are representative of the same challenges to identity and tension between sects that existed in Poland in the post-war years, and perhaps persist today. The days of traveling and the weight of what the pair might discover create an environment in which these ideologies and ways of life are set to clash. In the hotel room, when intoxicated Wanda mocks Ida’s devotion to the church, Ida pulls the book from her aunt’s hands and places it under her pillow on the farthest side of the bed from her aunt. Though this scene is the most confrontational between the two, the tension is set up much earlier, as Wanda asks while still in her apartment “And what if you go there, and you realize that there is no God?” However, while the heaviness of their potential discovery creates the atmosphere for this clash, it also forces each to confront a shaking reality that ultimately blurs these demarcations.

The setting of the film presents contrasts of its own, including the interplay of different cultural influences in everyday life. Wanda’s previous involvement with the Communist party is a reminder of the political and social influence of Russia in Poland in the post-war period. However, at a bar in the hotel where the two stay during their journey, a young musician, who takes an interest in Ida, plays and discusses the music of Coltrane. Though the film is set in the sixties, the possibility of outside influence, even through the iron curtain, calls Poland’s identity once more into question. Context, dialogue, and action are in short supply; silence is plentiful. “Ida” is a relatively short film filled with long moments. Following the conclusion of dialogue, the camera stays focused within the frame seconds longer than necessary in terms of the narrative. The tension from the scene, whether it is a result of grief, guilt, or anger, persists in the moments after the action of the scene concludes. It is the pauses, these prolonged silences, that cultivate the heavy, inescapable bleakness that pervades Pawlikowski’s film. The use of silence, in tandem with shots of the convent, the rundown home of Ida’s parents, Wanda’s apartment, and the Polish countryside create an image of a Poland that is peaceful but disturbingly stagnant.

In this aspect as in others, Pawlikowski’s film rests on the belief that viewers will read in between the lines and grasp the indirectly delivered themes and motifs of the film. This reliance on cultural and political knowledge contributes to the sense that the film belongs to the 1960s despite its 2013 release. In fact, the film runs for 15 minutes and 3 seconds before the word wojna – war – is ever uttered, which is surprising since the action of the film is derived from understanding the tragedy and legacy of this event. The film “Ida” conforms to artistic norms of post-war film in terms of subject, cinematography, and the innate ability to question the political reality while creating art within the bounds of censorship. Sound, for much of the film, is diegetic, which is common in films of the early sixties. Like other film of this era, “Ida” focused on the cost of the war and the impact on individuals in ways that earlier film didn’t allow, fitting in with the black and white films of the late-50s and early-60s and after the Polish October (1956). Though the film itself makes no ideological claim, its subtext calls into question the systems of both organized religion and communism.

Pawlikowski’s juxtaposition of numerous contrasts, the links to past film, and the intersection of multiple components of Poland’s history results in a gray zone, not only in reference to each character’s place in society, but also in reference to Poland itself. Catholicism, Judaism, and Communism intermingle in Pawlikowski’s consideration of Polish identity. At the end of the film, viewers understand the choices and identities of Ida and Wanda. What Pawlikowski does not venture to answer, and what he leaves hanging in the final sequence, is the identity of Poland. After complicating viewers’ perception of Poland’s history and people, he leaves his viewers once again with silence, forcing them to find his message in frames not seen and words not said. The image of Poland is one of people immersed in gray uncertainty. They are neither fully aligned with the eastern bloc, nor with the western. It is clear that Catholicism plays a significant role in Poland’s identity, but the place of both Judaism and Communism is more uncertain. Poland has experienced tragedy and stagnation, and there is little hint of what is yet to come.