LFF 2020: Never Gonna Snow Again
LFF
“I am taking away your misery, your suffering, your sickness. Like a black steam, it flows from your feet through your body, your heart, and into my hands. Take a deep breath. As you exhale, you become lighter, like a piece of dust.”
These words are uttered, in a form of ritual, by Zhenia (Alec Utgoff), the masseuse at the centre of Never Gonna Snow Again. With soft intonation, a soothing presence and slightness of touch, he hypnotises his patients, providing the serenity they desperately crave.
The first such routine is performed on an unwitting immigration officer, who blocked Zhenia’s path from Ukraine to Poland. After this quasi-prologue, we see him enter a gated estate on the outskirts of Warsaw, having acquired subjects where he can put his talents to use. The vast residential area, a collection of sparse streets and near-identical mansions, is devoid of bright colours and warmth, being pristine to the point of clinical. The homogenous nature of the setting belies the exploits of its bourgeois inhabitants, with their zany idiosyncrasies and troubled personal lives being a consequence of their sterile surroundings.
This eclectic bunch, consisting of a downtrodden mother (Maja Ostaszewska), a grieving widow (Agata Kulesza) and a needy dog-owner (Katarzyna Figura), are the lost souls, growing more enraptured with their reserved healer after each session. However, it’s Wika (Weronika Rosati), a shy housewife caring for her cancer-stricken husband, who catches the eye of Zhenia; as opposed to the somewhat vacuous neighbours, Wika, in the words of Zhenia, “is kind”. The vignette-like structure creates numerous avenues for the narrative to explore, but directors Malgorzata Szumowska and Michał Englert refuse to limit themselves thematically, opting instead for a multi-faceted and elliptical feature.
Whether it’s in the satirising of the bourgeoisie, commentary on climate change or exploration of metaphysics, each element interlocks seamlessly due to the atmospheric style. Englert, the longtime cinematographer for his co-director, tempers the slight surreal and absurdism with a muted colour scheme, creating an evocative and alluring tonal balance. The crisp visuals denote the sense of isolation felt by its characters whilst also emanating the wintery chill of Poland, with the pinpoint framing keeping the viewer in limbo between intimacy and alienation, much like the masseuse at the heart of its story.
Utgoff, following on from a breakout role in the third season of Stranger Things, is captivating in the lead role, managing to be both warm-hearted and enigmatic. As the plot progresses, his past is slowly chipped away via flashbacks, showing his upbringing in Pripyat around the time of the Chernobyl disaster. Hints are made to a potential supernatural ability, but like so much of the proceedings here, Szumowska and Englert leave any conclusions to the viewer. The tension of these two sides – whether you view the character as a Christ-like figure or an extraterrestrial in a new world – is beautifully juxtaposed; even when Zhenia is cleansing his patients through hypnosis, there’s always a lingering feeling something could go awry.
Ordinarily, a film so ambiguous could be rendered both voiceless and shapeless, but the evocative style leaves one yearning for further viewings and the chance to decipher it. The title, uttered by a child, speaks of the gradually warmer winters, hinting at impending doom and potentially the futility of it all; Zhenia, though a healer, is no miracle-worker – he offers respite, not long-lasting peace. Never Gonna Snow Again operates in much the same way, dealing with temporary fixes instead of permanent solutions, but like the hypnotic messages that punctuate the narrative, it is entrancing and captivating in all the best ways.