Rack focusing: Making visible everyday violence against women in Polish cinema. The case of Wojtek Smarzowski

Abstract

This article examines the representation of everyday violence against women in the films of Wojtek Smarzowski, one of the most progressive directors of contemporary Polish cinema. Historically, Polish cinema has marginalized women’s experiences, framing them through demeaning stereotypes, sexualization or idealization within the figure of the Polish Mother, while largely overlooking their struggles and the violence they endure. Drawing on Innes and Steele’s conceptualization of everyday violence as gendered, pervasive and normalized, this study explores how Smarzowski’s films bring these dynamics into focus. While his historical dramas, and Hatred (2016), broke taboos surrounding wartime sexual violence, this article highlights the centrality of everyday violence against women in his contemporary works. Utilizing the concept of rack focus, I analyze The Wedding (2004) and The Wedding Day (2021), tracing shifts in the depiction of female figures—specifically the wife and mother—and situating these changes within broader transformations in Polish societal attitudes toward violence against women.

Introduction

For decades, violence against women (VAW) remained a taboo subject in Poland. Despite existing legal provisions in the penal code, women continued to be blamed for acts of violence committed against them in public spaces, while domestic violence was largely omitted from public discourse (Gruszczyńska, 2006). The paradox of Poland’s low official VAW indices and its persistently high gender inequality indicators has been attributed to deep-seated historical and cultural conditions (Grzyb, 2024). Centuries of subjugation—first under the partitions (1772–1918) and later under totalitarian and authoritarian regimes (1939–1945–1989)—produced what scholars describe as a subaltern condition marked by hierarchical social structures and entrenched subordination (Rauszer, 2021). The persistence of traditional peasant culture, characterized by rigid gender norms, social stratification, and the brutalization of everyday life, fostered systemic VAW, particularly among the rural poor (Kuciel-Frydryszak, 2023). Among the upper strata of society—the gentry and intelligentsia—gender relations were shaped by somewhat different mechanisms; yet, beneath the veneer of Polish gallantry toward women often lay paternalism and emotional abuse (Dunin, 2002). Problematic drinking (Kosiński, 2020), the illusion of women’s emancipation during the communist era (Fidelis, 2010), and the pervasive influence of the Catholic Church across all historical periods (Porter-Szűcs, 2011) reinforced this dynamic. Magdalena Grzyb aptly terms this configuration ‘patriarchy à la polonaise’ (Grzyb, 2024)—a resilient and normalized system that sustains VAW while rendering it socially invisible.

As in many Central European countries, the nationalist turn following 2004—intensified by the global rise of neo-nationalism, the resurgence of conservatism, and the advent of the so-called “gender wars”—was accompanied by a pronounced anti-feminist rhetoric. The promotion of so-called “traditional values” and the framing of efforts to protect equality and women’s rights as threats to the national identity—painfully reclaimed after decades of Communist rule—produced regressive outcomes. As Natalia Nozadze (Amnesty International 2022) observes, ‘patriarchal attitudes, misogyny, and homophobia have not only become more entrenched but have flourished’.

An unforeseen turn was brought about by Poland’s signing of the Istanbul Convention. The Council of Europe Convention on Preventing and Combating Violence against Women and Domestic Violence (2011) was politicized and used by right-wing circles as one of the key arguments in the so-called gender wars (Graff and Korolczuk, 2022). Despite protests (black marches in 2016 and 2020), restrictive anti-abortion regulations have become more stringent and the situation of women in Poland has further deteriorated. However, the hysterical reaction of the conservatives had unexpected social repercussions. Gradually, the language of discussing violence became familiar, different aspects of violence became recognizable and its latent and long-lasting consequences, both for victims and society, were acknowledged (Grzyb, 2024).

A similar shift has begun to emerge in Polish cinema, which, long regarded as a medium of public debate, has traditionally instrumentalized women’s experiences in service of national narratives or ignored them altogether—often veering into misogyny (Mazierska and Ostrowska, 2006). Even when instances of VAW were portrayed, critical analyses tended to disregard them or redirect attention to other thematic or aesthetic issues. This was the case with How to Be Loved (Jak być kochaną, dir. Wojciech Has, 1962), A Woman Alone (Kobieta samotna, dir. Agnieszka Holland, 1981/1988) or Hi, Tereska (Cześć Tereska, dir. Robert Gliński, 2001). This article focuses on representations of everyday violence against women in the films of Wojtek Smarzowski.

The concept of everyday violence against women (EVAW) serves to highlight the pervasive and often normalized forms of harm that women experience in their daily lives. It encompasses verbal, physical, psychological, sexual and economic forms of abuse—acts that may appear minor or isolated but collectively render women’s lives more difficult, insecure, and at times, perilous (Innes and Steele, 2019). Public discourse frequently construes VAW as exceptional, associating it primarily with extreme acts such as rape or assault committed by strangers. However, statistical and sociological studies demonstrate that violence is far more pervasive and typically occurs within the contexts of women’s ordinary interactions and intimate relationships (UN Women, 2024b). Rooted in systemic sexism and misogyny, such violence operates as a structural condition embedded within social, cultural and institutional practices (Innes and Steele, 2019; Manne, 2019). It manifests in everyday forms—street harassment, micro-aggressions, coercive control, routine sexual harassment and the less visible psychological and economic abuse that occurs in workplaces, public spaces and domestic settings alike (UN Women, 2024a). Due to the scalability and interrelatedness of these experiences, scholars speak of a ‘continuum of violence(s)’ (Fitz-Gibbon and Walklate, 2023). Polish cinema has historically tended to overlook or marginalize such gendered forms of violence, focusing instead on collective or historical suffering; in this light, the notion of EVAW becomes particularly valuable for analyzing Smarzowski’s intervention into entrenched cultural narratives.

Among the filmmakers who emerged in the 1990s, Wojtek Smarzowski occupies a particularly prominent position. Born in 1963, Wojtek Smarzowski is widely regarded as one of the most innovative and socially engaged directors in contemporary Polish cinema. According to Izabela Kalinowska (2016), Smarzowski not only distinguishes himself through his artistic sensibility but also in a way follows a creative path established by Andrzej Wajda (1926–2016). Both directors are profoundly engaged with themes central to Polish national identity and collective memory (Kalinowska, 2016). Their works explore key social and historical issues—ranging from the traumas of the past (Wajda in Kanal [Kanał, 1957] or Katyń [2007]; Smarzowski in Volhynia [aka Hatred, Wołyń, 2016]; or The Wedding Day [Wesele, 2021]), through contemporary moral and institutional crises (Wajda in Man of Iron [Człowiek z żelaza, 1981]; Smarzowski in Traffic Department [Drogówka, 2016]; or Clergy [Kler, 2018]), to ethnic and cultural tensions (Wajda in The Promised Land [Ziemia obiecana, 1975] or Holy Week [Holly Week, 1996]; Smarzowski in Rose or Volhynia [2016]).

Both filmmakers have developed distinctive artistic languages that allow them to address questions of national identity and moral responsibility while sustaining a strong connection with their audiences. Their films frequently stimulate public debate and collective reflection—for instance, Wajda’s Ashes and Diamonds (Popiół i diament, 1958) and Smarzowski’s Rose, Traffic Department and Clergy. Although Smarzowski’s works are often overlooked by the juries of the Polish Film Festival in Gdynia and receive limited international exposure (Duda, 2025), they consistently achieve significant box-office success and enjoy wide popular recognition in Poland. At the outset of his career, Smarzowski even echoed Wajda’s artistic gesture by employing the motif of a wedding reception in The Wedding to expose the contradictions and moral frailties of Polish society (Kalinowska, 2016).

Often described as ‘the national auteur’, Smarzowski has developed a distinctive cinematic voice that exposes the darker dimensions of Polish life—xenophobia, envy, hatred, alcoholism, corruption and violence (Haltof, 2019: 405–411). This article concentrates on a recurring yet largely overlooked theme in his work: everyday violence against women, particularly domestic violence perpetrated by intimate partners. From his debut Earlobe (Małżowina, 1998) to The Wedding Day (Wesele, 2021), Smarzowski has persistently portrayed women as victims of both structural and interpersonal violence. These representations include the female neighbor in Earlobe, the mother and daughter in The Wedding, Bożena Środoń and a policewoman in The Dark House (Dom zły, 2009), Róża and Amelka in Rose, policemen’s wives in The Traffic Department (Drogówka, 2013), alcohol-dependent women in The Mighty Angel (Pod mocnym aniołem, 2014), the protagonist of Volhynia (Wołyń, 2016), and the priest’s housekeeper in Clergy (Kler, 2018).

Whether situated in domestic or wartime contexts, VAW in Smarzowski’s films constitutes a persistent and defining motif throughout his oeuvre. Two significant shifts, however, can be discerned in his treatment of this theme. The first occurs in Rose, a postwar melodrama that brings to the fore the issue of mass rapes, gendered violence and the enduring trauma such conflicts inflict upon women (a film to which I will return later in this analysis). The second is indicated by Smarzowski’s most recent production, Home, Sweet Home (Dom dobry), released in November 2025. The title itself—deliberately juxtaposed in Polish with The Dark House (Dom zły)—signals a new interpretive perspective. In this film, Smarzowski explicitly foregrounds the problem of EVAW and, through the strategic use of focalization, compels viewers to confront female subjectivity and the lived experience of violence directly.

I argue that Smarzowski is one of the few Polish directors of his generation to consistently acknowledge and represent EVAW. Although it often remains in the background of his earlier films, EVAW recurs as a persistent motif, gradually assuming greater thematic significance. Initially framed as one of many facets of Poland’s complex socio-cultural landscape, EVAW in Smarzowski’s more recent work is treated as a serious—and arguably central—social issue. He broadens its representation, explores it in diverse forms, provides contextual depth, and increasingly foregrounds women as victims of both structural and interpersonal violence. The most compelling examples of this evolving approach appear in two of his films: The Wedding (2004), an early work, and The Wedding Day (2021), his second to last work.

My analysis adopts a cultural studies perspective that integrates textual and contextual approaches. On the one hand, a close reading of the film—focused on its aesthetic and narrative structures—serves as a point of departure for a theoretical reflection on the representation of EVAW. On the other hand, this study situates Smarzowski’s work within a broader cultural and historical framework, drawing on auteur theory and the notion of Zeitgeist to account for the evolution of his authorial position in relation to shifting social discourses. Within this cultural studies framework, feminist film theory provides a key interpretive lens, enabling a critical engagement with both the representation of women and the cinematic articulation of gendered violence.

Methodologically, my reading employs the concept of rack focus, as developed by Polish scholars, Sylwia Borowska- Kazimiruk et al. (2023), to describe shifts in visual and narrative attention. Originally a cinematographic technique that transfers focus from one subject in the frame to another, rack focus has been adopted by scholars in cultural studies to describe changes in attention and perception. Rather than merely guiding the viewer’s eye, it metaphorically enables the emergence of previously overlooked or blurred elements within a narrative or cultural field. Borowska-Kazimiruk et al. (2023) extend this concept, emphasizing its critical potential. For them, rack focus allows not only for the redirection of attention but also for the surfacing of objects or issues that have remained peripheral or obscured. They argue that this shift may involve a necessary disruption—an excess or transgression—that helps reveal what has long existed nearby, yet outside the scope of conscious recognition (Borowska-Kazimiruk et al., 2023: 7).

This article adopts a problem-oriented and analytical approach. Before proceeding to a comparative analysis of The Wedding (2004) and The Wedding Day (2021) with respect to their representation of EVAW, I first return to an earlier stage of Smarzowski’s career, focusing on Rose. This detour serves two purposes. First, Rose marks a crucial moment in which Smarzowski introduced another dimension of VAW—wartime sexual violence—into the public debate. Second, the film demonstrates a significant shift in his cinematic technique: one that, while contributing to the formation of his distinctive authorial language and broad popular appeal, has also been the subject of critical controversy. This preliminary discussion thus provides the groundwork for situating Smarzowski’s authorial position within contemporary Polish culture and for understanding the particular ways in which his cinema engages with socially contentious issues. In what follows, I examine how Rose reconfigures the representation of gendered violence and how this turning point anticipates Smarzowski’s later treatment of EVAW.

Rose, VAW and safety valves

A notable shift in the portrayal of violence against women emerges in Smarzowski’s Rose, his fourth feature film. This historical drama, which garnered critical acclaim and sparked widespread discussion, follows Tadeusz, a former Home Army soldier fleeing the Communist regime after World War II. Seeking refuge in the Masuria region, he meets Róża, a widow of a Wehrmacht soldier, who endures immense hardship as she resists forced exile under the new Polish authorities. As Tadeusz learns of the brutal persecution of Masurians, he uncovers the systematic rape of women, including Róża, by the Red Army. Róża continues to suffer at the hands of Wasyl, a Russian marauder, who is protected by Polish authorities to further the forced exile.

Upon its release, Rose sparked widespread debate, addressing several key issues. The film challenged the conventional postwar narrative of Poland as a period of peace and reconstruction, instead portraying it as one of internal conflict, political violence and chaos—an era later described by Marcin Zaremba (2022) as a time of ‘great fear’. It also questioned the belief in the uniqueness of Polish suffering, revealing not only that Poles were not the sole victims of war, but also their role as perpetrators of violence. Most importantly, Rose brought the long-silenced issue of wartime sexual violence to the forefront, depicting rapes committed by soldiers and forcing public discourse on a topic erased from Poland’s collective memory.

The extraordinary popularity of Smarzowski’s films and the strong audience interest they generate are accompanied by criticism. His historical dramas, due to their contested interpretation of the past (Mroz, 2016), have faced two primary forms of critique. Conservative and right-wing groups accuse Smarzowski of engaging in what they call the ‘pedagogy of shame’—a term coined by right-wing publicists and politicians to discredit critical perspectives on Polish history (Ponczek, 2017). According to this view, proponents of the ‘pedagogy of shame’ exaggerate negative national traits, depict Poles as perpetrators and emphasize the darker chapters of Polish history.

Smarzowski’s historical films align with this so-called ‘pedagogy of shame’ because they present Poland’s tumultuous past in a nuanced and unflinching manner, confronting painful and less heroic aspects of national history. Following the release of Volhynia in 2016 (concerning the events of 1943)—after Law and Justice took power—Smarzowski was effectively blacklisted and faced financial obstacles in developing subsequent projects. As a result, he managed to produce only two films in the years that followed. His critical approach continues to draw condemnation from right-wing circles, further fueling debate over the role of historical narratives in Polish cinema.

However, Smarzowski has also faced criticism from progressive/leftist circles. This perspective was most fully articulated during an editorial discussion in Krytyka Polityczna following the release of Rose. Weronika Szczawińska (Wiśniewska et al., 2012) identified what could be considered Smarzowski’s modus operandi: his tendency to engage with difficult and contentious moments in Polish history—particularly those tied to Poland’s identity as a victim—while presenting them through highly emotionally charged scenes. According to Szczawińska (Wiśniewska et al., 2012), intense affect, in Rose specifically fear, serves as the organizing principle of his films. While the narrative may conclude with a sense of calm, this resolution emerges from the dynamics of the situation rather than any meaningful confrontation or resolution of the issues raised. In her view, Smarzowski introduces weighty historical problems but fails to explore them in depth, merely ‘ticking off’ topics rather than critically unpacking them.

More significantly, Szczawińska (Wiśniewska et al., 2012) highlights what she calls ‘safety valves’ in Smarzowski’s films. She and her colleagues argue that his work relies too heavily on emotional intensity, without leading to deeper reflection or discourse. As she puts it:

I’m afraid we’re trapped in a vicious circle of compassion. It happened, and it was terrible. Of course, you can stage such shocking scenes—like a gang rape, with women lying on the ground—but what next? What does this change in our thinking about history, memory, and community? And this is probably my main complaint about this film. He boldly takes up such a topic, yet immediately introduces these safety valves, ensuring that we have nothing more to say about it—except that it happened, and it was terrible. (Wiśniewska et al., 2012)

In Rose, Szczawińska identifies two ‘safety valves’. First, while the film depicts the rape of Masurian women by Red Army soldiers and Soviet bandits with the consent of Polish communist authorities, it omits the involvement of Poles in these crimes, despite historical evidence of sexual violence by Polish settlers. This omission presents a sanitized version of history that absolves Poles of responsibility. The second ‘safety valve’ is the portrayal of Polish oppression. The Masurian people suffer not from Poles in general, but from Communist authorities. Poles who resist the regime, such as Tadeusz, are depicted as sympathetic to the Masurians, offering support when possible (Wiśniewska et al., 2012). These narrative shifts, which influence moral judgments and whitewash Polish actions, are what Szczawińska terms ‘safety valves’.

The explicit depiction of sexual violence in Rose sparked controversy, with Smarzowski facing accusations of exploiting the subject through graphic imagery (Morstin, 2012). However, scholars such as Joanna Szydłowska (2016) argue that the film is groundbreaking in its portrayal of sexual violence. Szydłowska emphasizes Rose’s role in shaping post-2000 narratives on the rapes of women in East Prussia in 1945. She asserts that Smarzowski brings this issue to the forefront, using visual and auditory elements to convey the emotional weight of sexual violence. This portrayal underscores the violence’s pervasiveness and its devastating physical and psychological consequences for women, thus sparking national discussion and ‘generating a language about the traumatic experience’ of women (Szydłowska, 2016: 81).

In The Wedding Day, the filmmaker revisits the theme of sexual VAW in the context of war. Through flashbacks depicting the youthful love between Antoni, the grandfather of the Wilk family, and Lea, a member of the Jewish minority, Smarzowski returns to the events of WWII. The backdrop to their story is the pogroms against the Jewish community in the summer of 1941, carried out by Polish neighbors with the consent of the occupying German forces (Gross, 2001; Machcewicz and Persak, 2002). By meticulously reconstructing these events, the filmmaker underscores that sexual violence, particularly the rape of women by Poles, was an integral part of these atrocities. In the contemporary timeline of the 2021 film, Smarzowski shifts his focus to EVAW. This violence extends beyond the protagonist’s wife and daughter to include female workers from meat plants across the eastern border. Due to space constraints, I will highlight only one narrative thread, examining the similarities and differences in the portrayal of violence against the protagonist’s wife in The Wedding and The Wedding Day. These portrayals reveal a significant shift in perspective over time.

Seventeen years apart

The similarities between The Wedding and The Wedding Day are striking. Smarzowski not only returns to the same setting but emphasizes this repetition through structural and narrative parallels. Both films unfold over the course of a single wedding day, encompassing preparations, the ceremony, and the reception. At the center is a local entrepreneur—Wiesiek Wojnar, a horticulturist, in the earlier film, and Rysiek Wilk, a livestock breeder and abattoir owner, in the latter—who hosts a wedding for his pregnant daughter (Kaśka in The Wedding, Kasia in The Wedding Day). In the former, the pregnancy is an open secret; in the latter, it is visibly apparent.

In The Wedding, the groom is not the biological father of the child. Kaśka, a student in Kraków, becomes pregnant by her boyfriend, who abandons her. To avoid scandal, she returns home and marries a childhood friend in a transactional arrangement—he agrees in exchange for a sports car, a honeymoon and other material incentives. In The Wedding Day, paternity is questioned differently: Janek casts doubt on being the father, though this appears to be manipulative rather than sincere, a form of gaslighting. His infidelity, shown twice during the wedding night, underscores his insincerity. Unlike Kaśka, Kasia lives in Ireland and views the wedding as a means to fund her future business—a vegan bar for pregnant women. Her father, however, wants Janek to remain in the village and take over the family meat production enterprise, offering him a car and a promotion as incentives. In both films, the recurring motif of the sports car highlights the transactional nature of marriage and raises doubts about the groom’s true motivations.

The eventful day is primarily depicted through the perspective of the family patriarch, whose involvement in questionable activities heightens the prevailing tension. In The Wedding, Wiesiek Wojnar seeks to purchase a car for his future son-in-law at a bargain price while attempting to sell land once owned by his father-in-law, all while becoming entangled in criminal dealings. Similarly, in The Wedding Day, Rysiek Wilk faces blackmail due to the mistreatment of piglets by his company, and negotiations with German partners threaten a crucial contract. In addition, Ukrainian workers demand overdue wages, and illegal Asian laborers arrive early. Tensions escalate as his son and associates engage in anti-Ukrainian violence, while a delegation from Israel honors Rysiek’s father with the Righteous Among the Nations award, revealing his wartime history. This visit stirs memories of his past, including a romance with a Jewish woman and the pogroms of 1941. The planned construction site for Rysiek’s new factory coincides with the burial site of Jewish victims, further intertwining personal and societal histories. These events expose broader social issues deeply ingrained in Polish society.

In The Wedding, key issues include car theft, illegal imports, speculative land trading tied to EU accession, and widespread corruption among authorities. In The Wedding Day, the focus shifts to farm animal mistreatment, nationalism, xenophobia, exploitation of economic migrants, and ruthless interpersonal relations. Unresolved historical injustices, such as anti-Semitism and the 1941 pogroms, remain central. Despite these broader concerns, EVAW is a recurring theme in both films. This article specifically addresses this issue, which has often been overlooked in critical discussions that prioritize Smarzowski’s exploration of national and social issues (Haltof, 2019; Rychcik, 2019).

Both films share several similarities, including the names of the main characters, with one key distinction. The wife is named Elżbieta, but in The Wedding, Wojnar affectionately calls her Eluśka, while in The Wedding Day, she is referred to as Ela. The daughter is named Katarzyna, though the full and diminutive forms differ between the films: in The Wedding, both are used, with the subtitles rendering her name as Kaśka, while in The Wedding Day, her grandfather calls her Kasia. The groom’s name shifts from Janusz in The Wedding to Janek in The Wedding Day. The father’s name changes: Wiesiek (short for Wiesław) in The Wedding and Ryszard (Rysiek) in The Wedding Day.

Certain scenes and motifs recur in both films. The father’s wedding speech, for example, serves as a moment of self-mythologizing, positioning him as the pater familias through performative elements. The theme of bribery reappears, with the groom being enticed by his future father-in-law with a flashy sports car—either to marry the daughter or remain in Poland. Both films also feature moments of infidelity, though with a twist: in The Wedding, Wojnar is caught cheating, while in The Wedding Day, the bride discovers the groom’s infidelity via surveillance footage. In addition, both brides are depicted craving pickles, a stereotypical Polish pregnancy sign. A central theme in both films is EVAW, which Smarzowski reworks significantly. The recurrence of these motifs is deliberate and refined, with Smarzowski intensifying the focus on violence in The Wedding Day, making it a prominent and unavoidable issue.

EVAW in The Wedding

I argue that while The Wedding acknowledges the existence of everyday violence against women, it does not fully recognize or critically engage with it. Moreover, Smarzowski employs ‘safety valves’ (Wiśniewska et al., 2012) to frame such violence within the structure of satire. Female characters who experience violence are often depicted as unattractive, with their ugliness exaggerated to disarm the severity of their suffering—what could be termed the ‘disgusting woman who does not deserve pity’ trope. This is exemplified by the character of Eluśka in The Wedding. In The Wedding Day, however, Smarzowski revisits this theme within the context of marital relations. By focusing on the dynamic between Rysiek and Ela, he employs rack focus (Borowska-Kazimiruk et al., 2023) to redefine the portrayal of domestic violence, framing it as an everyday reality for women. One of the film’s final scenes—a conversation between the spouses—serves as a quilting point, solidifying the recognition of this violence. Initially subtle and difficult to discern, this recognition is conveyed through small gestures, silences and glances.

Eluśka is introduced in The Wedding during the opening church scene, seated beside her husband in a medium close-up. This composition references monidło, couple portraits commonly found in lower-class photography, often displayed in households (Kwiatkowska, 2017). As a recurring visual motif, this framing appears throughout the film, symbolizing the stability and durability of marital relationships. This repeated visual arrangement of the Wojnar couple highlights their harmony and cooperation, which is further emphasized in later scenes. The couple resolves problems swiftly, often requiring only brief consultation or eye contact, demonstrating their mastery of silent communication through subtle gestures and expressions. This enables them to navigate both the wedding celebration and Wiesiek’s business dealings with ease.

Initially, the Wojnars are depicted as a loving, harmonious couple, with Wiesiek managing public affairs and Eluśka overseeing the household. While Eluśka plays an active advisory role, helping her husband navigate challenges, the marriage reveals an underlying imbalance. Wiesiek controls the family’s finances, with all monetary decisions, including payments for household expenses, directed to him—even Eluśka must turn to him for funds. His habitual bargaining adds to the film’s comedic tone. Despite the couple’s apparent equality, Eluśka’s unwavering support and trust in Wiesiek, constantly affirming his decisions, ultimately shape the dynamics of their relationship. Change occurs with the revelation of infidelity. At the wedding reception, where the bigos likely caused food poisoning, Eluśka, worried about a sanitary inspection, discreetly removes the leftovers. During a power outage, she, her daughter and the head cook transport the pot to a hidden location, only to find Wiesiek in a sexual encounter with a bridesmaid. In a fit of rage, Eluśka dumps the contents of the pot onto him.

From the outset, Eluśka is depicted as a caricature, with her larger body size and lack of conventional attractiveness emphasized by her pink dress, exaggerated hairstyle and excessive makeup. This portrayal mirrors a historical tendency to reduce empathy for women who have experienced violence by presenting them as unattractive. In The Wedding, Eluśka’s appearance diminishes the validity of her emotions, transforming her experiences into comedic elements and prompting the audience to laugh at her rather than empathize. Smarzowski uses mise-en-scène—costume, makeup and hairstyle—to ridicule Eluśka, creating psychological distance that obscures recognition of the gender-based violence she suffers. Eluśka’s negative portrayal is also reinforced by her depiction as morally flawed, a common narrative device acting as a safety valve to suggest she ‘deserves’ her mistreatment. This mechanism often arises when a female character engages in provocative or unethical behavior. In Eluśka’s case, she serves bigos made with stale sausage at the wedding to cut costs, causing gastric distress among guests. This portrayal positions her as complicit in unethical actions, reinforcing the idea that she is no different from her husband and undeserving of sympathy. Eluśka’s character and narrative arc operate as a safety valve that mitigates audience empathy. In a key conversation with her daughter Kaśka, she advises prioritizing pragmatism over love, revealing that she knowingly sacrificed love in marrying Wojnar. Her suffering is thus neutralized through three strategies: her lack of conventional attractiveness discourages identification; her moral compromise—serving tainted food—aligns her with Wojnar’s unethical behavior; and her deliberate choice to marry for gain frames her betrayal as a foreseeable consequence, not an injustice. Moreover, by endorsing these norms to her daughter, Eluśka becomes complicit in upholding patriarchal structures.

Both the scene in which Eluśka discovers her husband’s infidelity and the moment she ultimately leaves him are structured as comedic gags, following a pattern of buildup, surprise, and exaggerated reactions designed to elicit laughter rather than concern (Coursodon, 1969). Crucially, this laughter is directed at the victim rather than the perpetrator. This stands in contrast to The Wedding Day, where Kaśka’s discovery of Janek’s infidelity elicits horror and anger, underscoring the disparity in how female suffering is framed. Consequently, when Eluśka at one point cries out that she has endured years of physical abuse at Wiesiek’s hands, her revelation is overshadowed by her hysterical delivery and ultimately goes almost unnoticed.

In conclusion, The Wedding presents the experience of VAW as an inherent aspect of gender dynamics, shaped by the broader structure of Polish society. However, within the film’s narrative, such violence remains unrecognized, instead serving as a source of humor and comic relief. Smarzowski thus preconditions the audience’s emotional response, encouraging laughter rather than empathy. As a result, Eluśka is portrayed as a pathetic and comical figure who, within this framework, appears to have received her just deserts. Her final act of defiance only reinforces this interpretation, further distancing her from recognition as a victim of everyday violence.

EVAW in The Wedding Day

In The Wedding Day, EVAW emerges as a central theme, framed as a symptom of toxic masculinity (Kupers, 2005). Smarzowski employs rack focus (Borowska-Kazimiruk et al., 2023) not to resolve the issue, but to underscore its pervasive, structural nature. EVAW recurs throughout the film in various contexts, revealing its entanglement with broader systems of oppression—such as exploitative labor practices, animal cruelty, commodified tradition, and sexual violence. By emphasizing its daily impact on women’s lives, Smarzowski situates EVAW as a fundamental component of toxic masculinity and, by extension, of patriarchal structures.

Ela is introduced in the film’s opening sequence amid a restless household on the eve of the wedding. In separate rooms, her daughter Kasia watches an ultrasound recording, showing a moving fetus, the grandfather examines pre-war photographs and a television broadcasts Majdanek—the Cemetery of Europe (dir. Aleksander Ford, 1944), juxtaposing images of historical atrocity with personal memory. Meanwhile, Ela lies awake in the dark, silently crying, as a recording of her wedding with Ryszard plays in the background, highlighting the contrast between past joy and present sorrow. Ryszard, absorbed in late-night business calls, discusses a device for the mass killing of surplus piglets. When alerted to a road accident caused by an escaped pig, he leaves abruptly. A conversation with the police officer handling the incident reveals that nothing in the area happens without Wilk’s knowledge and approval. What is more, the local authorities operate under his influence, secured through gifts and financial incentives. Ryszard does not return home but instead pursues those responsible for the pig’s escape before meeting with potential German investors.

The opening sequence introduces central characters and narrative threads while echoing motifs from the 2004 film: the father’s illicit dealings, patriarchal control, the bride’s pregnancy and societal pressure surrounding the wedding. Further parallels emerge in the strong bond between Kaśka and her grandfather, and in the grandfather’s critical stance toward the father figure. In The Wedding, he is Eluśka’s father, condemning his son-in-law’s greed; in The Wedding Day, he is revealed to be Rysiek’s adoptive father, whose disapproval takes the form of anti-Semitic remarks. His casual reference to the groom as ‘a Jew’, mistakenly directed at his granddaughter, introduces the theme of everyday anti-Semitism, underscored by the community’s silent complicity.

In the context of EVAW, the parallels between mother and daughter in The Wedding Day, as well as continuities and shifts between the two films, are especially salient. Kasia and Ela are introduced through near-identical shots: both lie on their right sides in close-up, unable to sleep, framed in bluish darkness that evokes introspection. Each is accompanied by a screen image reflecting her inner state—Kasia watches an ultrasound of her fetus, while Ela views a recording of her wedding. Yet their emotional responses diverge: Kasia smiles, Ela weeps. The scene’s ambiguity invites varied interpretations, suggesting either anxiety about the future or mourning of the past. In the morning kitchen scene, Kasia urges her mother to move to Ireland, echoing a similar mother-daughter exchange in the 2004 film. Whereas Eluśka once advised Kaśka to prioritize pragmatism over love—speaking from a position of authority to a hesitant daughter—The Wedding Day inverts this dynamic. Through mirrored mise-en-scène, Kasia stands in the background reaching for pickles, while Ela sits in the foreground. Yet unlike her mother, Kasia asserts agency and determination, actively encouraging escape. This reversal marks a growing divergence between the two maternal figures as the narrative unfolds.

In The Wedding Day, Ela, like Eluśka in the earlier film, wears a pink dress, yet its modest design contrasts sharply with Eluśka’s exaggerated styling. Her hair is neatly parted and pinned in a bun, and her makeup remains minimal. Silent and composed, Ela moves quietly through the house, tending to others. Communication with her husband is nonverbal, marked by body language; yet in his presence—especially when alone—she visibly tenses, revealing her unease. This underlying tension is affirmed during the car ride to the wedding. When Ela realizes grandpa needs a diaper change, Rysiek lashes out, accusing her of prioritizing her appearance over caregiving. Ela responds with silence, exiting the vehicle without acknowledging either his anger or his apology. The scene’s mise-en-scène evokes a similar moment from The Wedding, where Eluśka and Wiesiek are framed together in a car from the back seat. In contrast, The Wedding Day uses shot-reverse-shot to separate Ela and Rysiek into distinct frames, with a wide lens and edge positioning emphasizing their emotional and physical estrangement.

In The Wedding Day, the positioning and arrangement of the Wilks during the church ceremony mirror those of the Wojnars, which I interpret in the context of the Wojnars’ use of the visual motif of the monidło (Kwiatkowska, 2017). In the 2021 film, Ela and Rysiek are shown seated side by side in a frontal position, although they are less connected within the frame than the Wojnars. Furthermore, the camera’s pan to the right and the shift in focus to the individuals seated in the background serve to divert attention from this repetition. When the shot reappears, the subsequent cuts and altered angles of the Wilks subtly mitigate the impact of invoking the monidło visual scheme.

The pivotal scene of the father’s wedding speech also reappears, albeit with notable alterations. Rysiek dedicates a significant portion of his speech to recounting the family’s history, particularly focusing on the grandfather’s wartime experiences and subsequent imprisonment by the secret police. This narrative introduces a thread of the past, likely intended to counterbalance the recent arrival of the Israeli delegation and the announcement of the honor bestowed for aiding Holocaust victims. Rysiek then shifts the focus to his children, Igor and Kasia, before turning to his wife, Ela, and recalling their own wedding. The surprise and joy evident on Ela’s face, accompanied by an embrace and prolonged kiss with Rysiek, are presented through the use of intense pink filters. This visual technique conveys a sense of unreality, suggesting the artificiality of the scene and the insincerity of the words spoken, subtly cautioning the audience against taking the portrayal of the marital relationship at face value.

In the 2021 film, it is not the father who is caught cheating on the mother with a bridesmaid, as in the earlier film, but Kasia who discovers her newlywed husband, Janek, in an affair with her best friend. Ela has already made the decision to leave for Ireland with her daughter and has informed her of this choice. In a phantasmagorical scene featuring a burning barn, which merges two temporal dimensions—the 1941 pogrom against the Jewish population by the town’s residents and an attack by football hooligans (Janek, Igor and their friends) on homes occupied by Ukrainian economic emigrants, ostensibly for their involvement in the destruction of a car—Ela communicates her decision to Rysiek. In this scene, Smarzowski primarily focuses on the brief exchange between the characters.

RYSIEK:

Are you leaving me? . . . You? . . . You?

ELA:

I’m filing the papers on Monday.

RYSIEK:

I’ll take everything from you. You can’t do anything. What will you live on? Where will you live? You can’t do anything. You’re old and ugly.

Rysiek’s words are laden with emotional violence. His response to Ela’s act of subjectification—her announcement of her decision to leave—is marked by threats, the discrediting of her abilities, and, ultimately, an act of humiliation. This scene, viewed through the lens of Jacques Lacan’s and Slavoj Žižek’s theories, functions as a ‘quilting point’, ¹ articulating the actual underlying dynamics of the marital relationship that had been conveyed in the preceding scenes (Žižek, 1991).

The scenes depicting Ela’s interactions with her family, particularly her daughter and husband, are initially constructed in a way that allows for multiple interpretations. She is consistently pushed into the background, appearing as someone who struggles to keep pace with her husband’s business endeavors. Her role seems confined to managing the household and caring for her father-in-law, a responsibility she appears to have assumed voluntarily. Notably, she does not even occupy the position of Rysiek’s confidante.

Rysiek’s wedding speech and his remark in the car about her supposed failure to properly care for his grandfather subtly imply Ela’s inadequacy—she is loved and appreciated but ultimately incapable of keeping up with her husband. The film presents her as someone unable to manage the responsibilities entrusted to her. This portrayal is reinforced by two references to her alleged alcohol problem: first, when Ela assures her daughter that she is no longer drinking, and second, when Rysiek warns her to be cautious with alcohol at the wedding reception. These moments seem to validate the notion that the issue lies with her.

However, Rysiek’s detached, transactional approach to those around him introduces a sense of unease, suggesting alternative interpretations. The conversation between Ela and Rysiek in the burning barn scene retrospectively clarifies earlier ambiguities. Here, the relationship between signifier and signified is established, revealing a pattern of domestic violence: Rysiek as the aggressor, Ela as the victim. From this perspective, her behaviors, expressions, and demeanor are reinterpreted as manifestations of trauma resulting from sustained domestic abuse. Unlike The Wedding, where comic elements serve to diffuse the severity of certain situations, The Wedding Day presents this dynamic with stark realism, offering an unfiltered depiction of gendered violence.

Conclusion

Violence against women is a recurring and integral theme in Wojtek Smarzowski’s cinematic work. In each of his feature films, this subject is not only introduced but actively explored in various forms, including physical, emotional, verbal and economic violence. Presented as an inherent aspect of social reality, this theme gained significant attention from audiences and critics, particularly in his fourth film, Rose, where its depiction sparked controversy while also contributing to the destigmatization of wartime VAW in Polish society. Smarzowski’s most recent film, Home, Sweet Home, similarly resonated with audiences—attracting over 1.8 million viewers within its first two weeks of release—while also generating measurable social impact. Following the film’s premiere, the Feminoteka Foundation, an organization working for women’s rights, reported an increase of more than 200 percent in reported cases of domestic violence (Dróżdż, 2025). The Institute of Media Monitoring has described this phenomenon as the ‘Home, Sweet Home effect’, noting a 63 percent rise in traditional media coverage addressing domestic violence and a 524-percent increase in related discussions on social media platforms (IMM, 2025) which proves the explicit stance on EVAW.

In this article, I have sought to demonstrate that Smarzowski’s approach to the portrayal of VAW has evolved over time. By comparing The Wedding and The Wedding Day—two films separated by 17 years—and analyzing the depiction of one of their central female characters, Eluśka and Ela, I have examined how this shift is reflected through the films’ narrative and stylistic construction. I conceptualize this transformation through the notion of rack focus, which serves as a metaphorical framework for analyzing the filmmaker’s shift in emphasis and understanding. The concept facilitates an examination of how the subject is reoriented and redefined within its broader social and cultural context.

In The Wedding, Smarzowski addresses VAW explicitly through the protagonist’s own words: when Eluśka, betrayed by her husband, decides to leave him, she directly articulates her suffering. However, the impact of this revelation is mitigated by the film’s mise-en-scène and scene construction. The portrayal of Eluśka as a comical figure, coupled with the use of gag structures that provoke laughter rather than concern, diminishes the gravity of the violence she endures.

Conversely, in The Wedding Day, Smarzowski adopts a markedly different set of cinematic strategies. By relegating Ela to the background for much of the film, he heightens the emotional and narrative impact of the moment when the truth is finally revealed. The scene is rendered all the more disturbing by the fact that the audience does not hear the victim’s voice until the very end; instead, it is the perpetrator who discloses the extent of his brutality. Through the use of rack focus, Smarzowski abruptly redirects the viewer’s attention, creating a jarring visual clarity that compels the audience to confront and acknowledge the victim’s horror as the full scope of violence comes to light.

This shift in Smarzowski’s directorial approach—particularly significant given his status as a nationally recognized auteur who engages with key social issues and contributes to shaping Poland’s collective imagination—marks a critical intervention in public discourse. It can be interpreted as a deliberate act of making visible the issue of EVAW, a subject that has historically been marginalized or dismissed. This representational shift functions as a form of social performativity, paralleling broader societal changes in Poland’s approach to gender-based violence, especially in the context of public debates surrounding the ratification and (non)implementation of the Istanbul Convention.