
Now, the novelty is gone, and the young people seem as disaffected and listless as they might in any capitalist country. After the fall of Communism in 1989, the country’s curiosity for all things Western drove a seemingly insatiable appetite for imported pop culture. Here, for virtually the first time in Polish history, is a group of twentysomethings allowed to be idle - old enough to be out from under their parents’ supervision, yet not so much that they’re obliged to work for a living. At least Marczak has chosen characters who are easy on the eyes (though give them a decade, and those handsome faces will likely look as if they’ve been working in the coal mines for 40 years), which buys a fair amount of goodwill as they spout reams of existential angst, sounding vaguely like the melancholy characters of “Oslo, August 31st.” Kris and company belong to a generation determined to avoid boredom at all costs, and yet, they are themselves profoundly boring. Otherwise, this intermittently hypnotic paean to youth amounts to a loose catalog of how these three millennials spend the hazy hours between twilight and dawn when security guards, vampires, and party animals do their thing - which consists mostly of dancing, drugs, clumsy attempts at seduction, and various spontaneous acts of silliness (picking fights, playing chicken with oncoming trains).
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Theirs is not quite a love triangle, though a brief fling between Kris and Eva (who is Michal’s ex-girlfriend) creates a tension between the two men that’s as close to a plot as the movie has to offer. Featuring a trio of real people more or less playing themselves, Michał Marczak’s quasi-documentary is breathtakingly beautiful at times, filmed in a style more reminiscent of recent Terrence Malick movies than anything reality-based as it floats at arm’s length behind Kris, best friend Michal (Michał Huszcza), and the girl they both covet, Eva (Eva Lebuef). Over the course of nearly two hours - compressed down from roughly a year in the life of its characters - “All These Sleepless Nights” gives us plenty of time to ponder Bagiński’s head from every angle, and to a lesser degree, the thoughts flickering inside it. In profile, he suddenly takes on an almost Neanderthal appearance, as his heavy forehead pushes down on that sharp wedge of a nose.
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Head-on, he could be Michelangelo’s David, with his broad cheeks and full lips, a question mark knit in the crease between his eyebrows. From some angles, it projects a vulnerable kind of curiosity, almost childlike as questioning eyes peer out from deep hollow sockets.


Cast as an avatar for a nation of disaffected Polish twentysomethings, Krzysztof Bagiński has an amazing face.
