Showing posts with label Passport to Poland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Passport to Poland. Show all posts

Tuesday 30 November 2021

Towards an appreciation of, or adequate response to, the riches of Wes Anderson's sheer genius in The French Dispatch (2021)

How even enumerate the riches of Wes Anderson's sheer genius in The French Dispatch (2021) ?

More views of - or before - Cambridge Film Festival 2019 (17 to 24 October)
(Click here to go directly to the Festival web-site)

29 November

Towards an appreciation of, or adequate response to, the riches of Wes Anderson's sheer genius in The French Dispatch (2021)






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More to come



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Unless stated otherwise, all films reviewed were screened at Festival Central (Arts Picturehouse, Cambridge)

Tuesday 20 May 2014

Money well spent ?

Passport to Poland

More views of - or before - Cambridge Film Festival 2014
(Click here to go directly to the Festival web-site)


20 May







Passport to Poland

To @UKIP with [g]love - with a silent 'g', more of a gauntlet really...

UK border control. A man stands in front of an official, who is behind a desk.


MAN

(Indignantly.) What do you mean, I’m Polish ? (With pride.) I was born in Braintree !



BORDER OFFICIAL


Do you have proof of that, sir ? (Man goes to interrupt, silenced by a finger.) By which I mean, are you carrying your birth-certificate with you… ?



MAN


No, but if you let me through, I could go home and get it. (The official just looks at him, almost pityingly.) But I suppose everyone says that… (Pause. Suddenly.) I know – what if I called my boss !



BORDER OFFICIAL


Sorry, sir – your passport states that you’re Polish (Man goes to interrupt, silenced by a finger.) – and so, I suspect, are the people I take to be your wife and daughters behind you. (A look silences a further attempt.)



Next in the queue, a woman in a cardigan and sandals, with a five-year-old pulling on her arm, and an eleven-year-old standing bored beside her, idly playing with her pigtails (as her iPad had to be switched off).


BORDER OFFICIAL


(Sing-song voice.) How is 'your boss' going to change that ?


(Abruptly, and without compassion.) Do you think that ‘your boss’ would prefer to deny knowing you to facing any 'difficult' questions ?



MAN


(Thinks, hesitates.) But…



BORDER OFFICIAL

Please ask your family – in your own language, if you like (The man looks surprised, but says nothing.) – to come over here with me. (He gestures to a waiting-area to one side, set out with a desk and chairs, and goes over to it with the passport.)


MAN

(Turns and speaks to them. Under his voice. Failing to interject any feeling of calm.) Don’t worry, dear – or you, or you. As you’ve heard, just some new procedure – picked out at random for some stringent checks – (As they approach.) just need to humour this chap, who’s pretending to think we’re Polish.


BORDER OFFICIAL

I’m not (The woman hands the other passports to him. He glances at them.) – pretending – to think that – you’re all Polish. You are all Polish !


WOMAN

(Indignantly.) But I’m a vicar’s daughter – from Brentwood ! (As the official looks at her.) And, no, I don’t have my birth-certificate, either…


BORDER OFFICIAL

Doesn’t matter, ma’am – you’re Polish now, and, to be frank, you need to accept going back to your homeland, rather than trying to sneak into England to set up a car-wash ! (Woman goes to say something, but cannot think what to say.)

Unless, although you’ve all got Polish passports, there is something that you can tell me to change my mind…

(Looks directly at the man.) And, no, I don’t mean that little question about what my wife likes to drink – or have I ever been to Norfolk, where you’ve got a lovely second home… !


MAN

(Getting up courage.) Now, look here – I’m going to complain to my MP !



BORDER OFFICIAL

Well, sir… (Flicks through the passport.) You can, of course, do that, but it seems that your MP is in Gdansk, where you now live.


WOMAN

But I’ve never even been to Gdansk ! (On the edge of tears.) Who would have thought that our holiday in Venice would end like this !



YOUNGER DAUGHTER

(Cackling.) Venethia, Venethia ! (Woman hushes her. Nonetheless.) Grand–ay, Grand–ay ! Venethia !



WOMAN


(To elder daughter.) Please take Ruth for a little walk – to explore that corner. (In angry response to elder daughter’s malevolent stare.) Or something ! Go ! ! (Over the top, the younger daughter babbles a convincing case for obeying.) Can’t you see how serious this is ! (Elder daughter trails her off, shoulders hunched.)



MAN, WOMAN


(Together.) But what has happened ? (She alone.) How did we leave with British passports… (He alone.) but they’re Polish ones when we come back. (Suddenly. Together.) Someone at the hotel !



BORDER OFFICIAL


(Shakes his head.) Let me explain it to you. (They nod. Baldly.) Do you remember that you decided – as you only had four months left to run on them – to renew your passports for this trip ?



MAN


Yes, but--- (The official puts his finger to his lips.)



BORDER OFFICIAL


Your wife had noticed that they were actually cheaper than a year ago (She nods.), and you thought it as well to renew them now, just in case (He nods.) – you both thought that it ‘made sense’.


(They both nod.)


WOMAN

But what’s this got… ? (Loudly.) I just want to go home to our house in Brent Pelham – and unpack our cases !



ELDER DAUGHTER

(Decides to join in. Calls out.) I’ve got to be back at six – Naomi’s calling for me. (Unfortunately for her, her sister has swept some things off a desk onto the floor, and is in more need of her attention.)


BORDER OFFICIAL

(Sternly.) Just listen to me. Who filled in the passport renewals ? (Man raises his hand.) And you read the guidance booklet ?


MAN

Yes, yes I did. (Hesitates.) Maybe not all of it, but I did. (Explains.) I had to.


BORDER OFFICIAL

What about the footnote to the footnote on page 38 ? (Man looks blank.) It says, in layman’s terms, that you need to tick the box underneath where you sign, in section 11, if you do not wish to retain British nationality. (Man looks sheepish, woman reproachful.)

People who tick that box get allocated to countries with ‘spare capacity’, and, again under the policies that you voted for, you then have to prove an extremely good reason to be allowed back into the UK.

(To the woman.) Did neither of you (To the man.) look at these passports, (Back to her.) along with your itinerary and other travel documents (Back to him.) before you made ready to go ?


MAN

(Shakes his head.)

Didn’t you even wonder why the colour of your passports was different, or they had a different crest on the front ? Too embarrassed by the photo… ?


MAN

(Pause. Disbelieving.) So you mean that our own country has kicked us out – given us a different nationality – in a country where we have no (Judders with each thought.) friends – job – family – school – home !


WOMAN

(Grief-stricken.) Oh, George – what have you done ! Was this because you skimped, and didn’t get the form checked at the post office ?!


MAN

(Ignores the accusation.) No… – wait a moment, she was a bit knowing at when I asked for the forms over the counter – said was I sure that… in case… I didn’t want more than one for each of us…


BORDER OFFICIAL

If you’d paid to have the forms checked, they would have been bound to ask you whether you no longer wanted to be British…

(Folds his arms. Sighs.) As it is…


WOMAN

(Not really believing all this.) But this is ridiculous ! When we voted not to have so many East Europeans here, we didn’t mean us !


BORDER OFFICIAL

Well, ma’am… (Momentary pause. Slightly condescendingly.) It’s not for me to say that no one learns lessons from history, but…


MAN

(With venom.) Oh, spare us your analysis of the origins of Kristallnacht ! (Official shrinks, for the first time thinking anything of his prey. Very loudly.) God, there must be some way through this Nonsense !! (To the woman.) Have you ever heard anything so crazy : they deem us no longer British because, on a form to renew a British passport, I tick some bloody stupid box that apparently says I’d rather be Croatian – or Czech !


BORDER OFFICIAL

Now that you put it like that, sir---


WOMAN

(With fury.) Yes, we do put it like that !


(Gesturing wildly, and overacting just a little bit.) We’re not about to let everything that we have be stolen – just because some dimwit government thought it a clever wheeze to let us leave the country, travelling on some gimcrack set of bogus papers !


BORDER OFFICIAL

Well---


MAN, WOMAN

(Together.) Aha ! (Man.) There’s nothing that you can say now, man – (Woman.) we know that your heart’s not in it !


BORDER OFFICIAL

(Sobs.) It’s true – I thought that I was better than this – tough as old boots. (Heaves his heart out.)


MAN

(Bracingly.) This is all very well, man, but pull yourself together –

(Gestures to the border.) or none of us will get out of here with honour.


BORDER OFFICIAL

(Self-pityingly.) You’re right, you’re right – it’s just that I thought that it would be a cinch to enforce these new rules…


WOMAN

Look, never mind that – we don’t want an apology, we---


ELDER DAUGHTER

(Calls out. To woman.) Look, I’m not even a registered child-minder, you know, and how much longer do I have to---


MAN

We’ll be with you in a minute – just stop Ruth playing with whatever she’s got in---


WOMAN

Wait a moment ! That’s the passports – we don’t want her eating those !


BORDER OFFICIAL

Don’t worry, ma’am. The passports are quite safe here (Gestures.), for what they’re worth, but… – do you mind if I see what she’s got ?


MAN, WOMAN

(Together.) Be my guest !


WOMAN

(Calls out. To elder daughter.) Go back and join your sister a moment. (To man.) He’s won over… but where do we go from here ?


BORDER OFFICIAL

(Returning.) Sir, what did you do with the old British passports when they were returned to you ? (Woman looks quizzical.) Put them somewhere safe ?


MAN

No, I don’t honestly remember seeing them – they didn’t come at the same time as (Gesturing at the Polish ones.) these.


WOMAN

(Uncertainly.) But didn’t Ruth ask if she could have them… ? And you said Yes, they were no use to us… ?


MAN

Yes, that’s possible…


BORDER OFFICIAL

I think that you’re right, ma’am, and that you did say so, sir. (Pause.) At any rate, your daughter must have put them in her bag before you went to Venice – and has just taken the opportunity to play with them (He waves them in the air.) now !


MAN, WOMAN

(Hesitantly.) Do you mean… ?


BORDER OFFICIAL

Yes, although they’ve been cancelled, I have a discretion to consider the unexpired portion of ‘your Britishness’ still valid, and, of course, I shall !


WOMAN

(Approaching the daughters with the man. To elder daughter.) Come, Abigail – we need to get back for that lift---


MAN

(To younger daughter. Catching her up in his arms.) And you, Ruth, can have that pony thing you’ve been wanting !


They re-join the official, and shake hands and exchange hugs all around.


BORDER OFFICIAL

Take care of these, now, and book an appointment with your MP as soon as you can – if you’ve got a good one, they’ll want to know all about it, sir, ma’am ! (He leads them back to the border, and lets them through.)

(As they walk away. Shakes head.) I’m just too soft-hearted, me – they were Polish, bang to rights !



ENDS

© Copyright Belston Night Works 2013







Unless stated otherwise, all films reviewed were screened at Festival Central (Arts Picturehouse, Cambridge)