Histories of the inter-war avant-garde film are not straightforward at most times. This is largely due to the complexity of the period: wars, emigration, the fluid nature of artistic formations and the artists’ changing relationships to the movements. The first reason is particularly relevant where Polish avant-garde film is concerned, as World War Two had caused a significant damage to the national heritage. Thus, when attempting to piece its history together, one encounters the following questions: How to write about films that no longer exist? Can one form a valid opinion about the nature and shape of such films on the basis of fragmentary evidence? Can the surviving film scripts and proposals be considered as part of a history of film practice? Any answers to such questions can only be provided when one employs approaches that take into account all of the existing material rather than concentrate on the missing evidence.
Below I attempt to only sketch the key Polish avant-garde films made between 1916 and 1934 and the discourses that surrounded them. These works will be looked at as different ‘fragmentations’ that refer to films that were either lost or destroyed in the war and films that were never made and remain in the form of theoretical concepts. Originally given as a presentation at the Alternative Film/Video Festival’s Academic Forum (Belgrade, Serbia, December 2013), the aim of this text is to map out these fragmentations while detailed analysis of the case studies mentioned here have appeared in a variety of other publications.
Polish Avant-Garde Film Prior to the 1930s: Key Facts
A history of Polish avant-garde film of the 1930s is relatively well documented by comparison with the earlier period. The years between 1916 and 1930 require closer assessment and remain the most under-researched area of Polish film history in general. Though without a doubt the most significant figures in the history of Polish avant-garde film of the 1930s, Franciszka and Stefan Themerson’s work has been critically acclaimed internationally, their predecessors’ efforts have met with relatively little in-depth exploration. This is because most of the work made before the 1930s did not survive the war and most films remained as scripts and theoretical concepts that never materialized.
On the whole, a history of avant-garde film has been assessed on the basis of the existing evidence. However, the most recent approaches argue that in order to determine the nature of avant-garde film, one ought to consider all the activities that constituted part of the artistic climate that contributed to the making of these films. Although films themselves bear the most accurate testimony to their existence, their marks can be found outside the apparatus: in anecdotes, historical documents, and personal memoirs.
Most Recent Methodological Approaches
Writing about the artists’ film in the early 1910s, Ian Christie questions the methods of the canonic historiography that, as he argues, tends to work in “reverse teleology, from the characteristic form of the post-Futurist avant-gardes.”1According to him
[…] we need to uncouple from a set of long-held assumptions that artists’ film work is only likely to have resulted from the post-Futurist avant-gardes, and can be evaluated in terms of films achieved, or preserved, or indeed only films per se2.
As he points out, there must have been a “considerable zone of uncertainly and contingency between planned and proposed film projects, and what actually got made – and preserved.”3 Tom Gunning also believes that the achievements and attempts of early cinema should not be judged “in terms of their realization (or the lack of it), but rather as expressions of broad desires which radiate from the discovery of new horizons of experience.”According to Gunning, “unrealised aspirations harbor the continued promise of forgotten utopias, as asymptotic vision of artistic, social and perceptual possibilities.”4Moreover, theorists such as Thomas Elsaesser argue for the necessity of the contemporary researchers to
widen the range of questions deemed relevant, but also to change the starting point of the questions and to put into doubt one’s own historiographic premises; for example, by including discontinuities, the so-called dead ends and the possibility of an amazing ‘otherness’ of the past.5
Pavle Levi argues that what is also crucial to assessing the history avant-garde film are the non-cinematic interventions – “cinema by other means” – which involve a number of film-related activities (photo-collages, drawings, paintings, cine-poems), as well as theoretical writings.6 As he aptly puts it, the production of the theoretical discourse and the scripts prior to the making of the actual films was as important as the films themselves. Thus, the dialectical interplay “between film and cinema” can be understood “only if we fully endorse the principle of inseparability of theory and practice.”7 For Levi a history of avant-garde film “is a tale of the multiple states or conditions of cinema, of a range of extraordinary, radical experiments not only with but also “around” and even without film”8.
All of the above approaches will find their resonance in the six different fragmentations that form a part of a complex history of Polish avant-garde film, however, a more detailed assessment of these methodologies warrants a separate study.
Fragmentation 1: Feliks Kuczkowski – the First Polish Avant-Garde Filmmaker
Feliks Kuczkowski (aka Canis de Canis, 1884-1970) was a Cracow-based journalist, and an amateur-artist-turned-animator. Kuczkowski constitutes a unique example because as early as in 1916 he had began making films solely according to his own vision. Sadly, none of his films survived and the information concerning his oeuvre is limited to two primary sources: stills from his films and his memoirs concerning the period prior to World War Two (written in retrospect in 1955). Despite this serious shortcoming, there is little doubt that had his work survived, the first Polish avant-garde film prior to 1920 would have been made. Kuczkowski’s first film, Flirting Chairs (1916), was created according to his unique principle of ‘synthetic-visionary film.’ Made of thirty-eight drawings by Lucjan Kobierski, according to a few surviving descriptions and stills, the film consisted of depictions of two chairs, ‘flirting’ with each other. Close-ups and long shots appear of the chairs floating in the same flat screen space. Kuczkowski inserted his own drawing into the film, which portrays a fat priest carrying a skull and a glass of beer, which he keeps spilling on the two ‘flirting’ chairs.
Elsewhere I have discussed in detail ways in which Kuczkowski’s vision of film corresponds with first Polish avant-garde formations (Expressionism and Futurism), as well as international developments (the work of Wassily Kandinsky and Oscar Fischinger, to name a couple)9.I shall highlight these in brief here but first, Kuczkowski’s own words describing his method film will be of some use:
I create a synthetic screen. On this screen I demonstrate spiritual connections, which one cannot express by photographing natural, impetuous reality […] In order to express such spiritual connections in a supernatural fashion, one needs to create tools of expression that are equally supernatural, synthetic […] like artificial rubber or fibre. The screen makes it all possible, because it operates only by the laws of the optical matter […]10
It is worth unpacking some of the key words used by Kuczkowski in the above statement:
Kuczkowski believed that constructing his own puppets (synthetic actors) out of plasticine was an expression of the artist’s subjective vision and allowed him the full control over his images. He was influenced by the Formists – a new artistic group that emerged in Cracow in 1917. The key member of the movement, Andrzej Pronaszko, declared his artistic position in the following fashion: “A real object in painting constitutes a mere excuse for artistic creation, and forms, despite being depictions of nature (distant), grow out of an individual dream about colour, not from mimicking nature” 11.
In dialogue with Cubism, Expressionism, Dada and Futurism, the Formists wanted to express spiritual values, which they believed were lost in the contemporary world. In his refusal of naturalism and the embrace of abstraction and non-human forms, Kuczkowski’s films reflected the key concerns of the movement.
Kuczkowski’s notion of spiritual connections seems to derive from Wassily Kandinsky’s seminal text, Concerning the Spiritual in Art (1911-1912), which he most likely would have read in a catalogue to the ‘Futurists, Cubists, Expressionists’ exhibition in Lvov (1913) 12. Kandinsky’s notion of the higher, spiritual universe, his rejection of materialism and the stress on individualism of the artist manifested itself in Kuczkowski’s above statement.
Ten years after Kuczkowski’s Flirting Chairs, Oscar Fischinger’s Spiritual Constructions (1927-1929) would present a very similar approach to filmmaking. The film consists of two male figures struggling in a fight over a table. The two men, like Kuczkowski’s chairs float in a fluid screen space. They rotate and change shapes into animals and less recognisable, abstract forms. It is almost certainly coincidental that the adjective ‘spiritual’ appears both in Kuczkowski’s description of his films and in the title of Fischinger’s piece. Nonetheless, it is striking how both, Kuczkowski and Fischinger embraced cinema of no actors as the alternative to live action film and as a way of introducing a more subjective and independent approach to filmmaking. In a manner similar to that of Kuczkowski, Fischinger also reflected on the role of a filmmaker: “The creative artist of the highest level always works at his best alone, moving far ahead of his time.”13
Kuczkowski often stressed on the non-natural aspects of his films and although he did not use the word ‘surreal’ in his writings, his employment of the terms nadnaturalny (‘supernatural’), hyperrealny (‘hyperreal’) and hypernaturalny (‘hypernatural’) begs a comparison with Surrealism, particularly when considering his interest in film’s ability to create alternative realities. However, Kuczkowski’s views on Surrealism were rather ambiguous and according to him, the hyperrealism of synthetic-visionary films “meant heightening and enrichment of realism, crossing the boundaries of naturalism”, rather than Breton’s nod towards the absurd.14
The laws of the optical matter
Through the employment of animation rather than live action Kuczkowski experimented with the language of cinema. In his seminal book The Tenth Muse: The Aesthetic Issues of Cinema (1924), the leading Polish film critic Karol Irzykowski considers Kuczkowski “a true innovator of Polish cinema” and placed his films in the highest category of film – “cinema of pure movement.”15
Fragmentation 2: Europe (Franciszka and Stefan Themerson, 1932): Futurist and Dada Aesthetics
There exists a significant lack of critical discourse regarding Polish Futurism’s involvement with film. Polish Futurists wrote film scripts, cine-novels and cine-poems, as well as critical writings on film, all of which were as important in the process of formulating the avant-garde film culture in Poland as the films themselves.
Unlike in Italy, in Poland, Futurism (1919–1922) was primarily a literary movement. The fact that no Polish Futurist films per se do not exist is not at all that surprising if we consider that Filipo Thomaso Marinetti himself did not formulate his ideas about film until 1916 (the year when Kuczkowski made his first animated film, Flirting Chairs).16 The primary reason for this was the limited experience of painters and poets with the new medium of film and the lack of appropriate equipment: only 35mm cameras were available, and these were usually too expensive to experiment with, and were used mainly on large productions. Film was more costly to produce than painting. Unlike Viking Eggeling and Hans Richter, and the Russian and Italian Futurists, Polish Futurists did not manage to complete any films. Taking into consideration the fact that at that time German and Russian film industries, for example, were well developed in comparison with that of Poland, which until 1918 was still under occupation, it is hardly surprising that there was little scope for experimentation in the area of film. As will be shown, some of the works by the Themersons and Jalu Kurek betray close links with the Futurist and Dada aesthetics.
Themersons’ Europe is based on a 1925 Futurist poem-script of the same title by Anatol Stern, one of the key poets of Polish Futurism. Stern’s ‘Europe’ is a Dada-like apocalyptic vision of the world. Although as a unified art movement Dada did not exist in Poland, much of its attitude was present in Polish Futurism. Like Dada artists from Zurich, Polish Futurists were rebelling against art and believed themselves social revolutionaries.This political activism and critique is visible in Stern’s poem and honoured in the Themersons’ film. Stern’s poem is filled with rage against politicians and the socio-political situation in Europe:
Abecedary of slaughter
of dirt lice fires
states at war
who will always win
who wolf meat
once a month
we who drag along the streets
stuffing our pockets
An anarchic prediction and denouncement of wars and socio-political upheavals, the Themersons’ Europe was lost during World War Two. What remains of the film are just a few stills and the filmmaker’s own recollection of the original script. In a letter to Piotr Zarębski, who in 1988 remade the Themersons’ Europe from the surviving frames, Stefan Themerson stated that “Stern’s poem was not the ‘inspiration’ for the script, [it] was the script, because it was written in the style of a script.”18Europe was a silent piece thus the images functioned on an autonomous level. In the preserved scenario for Europe, there was a description of the following scene: “drawing by George Grosz -/ in place of a heart: a motor animated frame by frame.”19 This suggests both the presence of Dada (Grosz) and Futurist (a motor) aesthetics. Europe can also be seen as a reflection of the Polish Futurists’ refusal to glorify the machine aesthetic because of its links to war. Polish Futurists did not share the same enthusiasm for the war as their Italian colleagues and in this aspect they resembled the Dada artists. Their political inclinations were much more to the left and the Italian Futurists’ political extremism did not pass without critique from Polish side, especially when many Italian Futurists joined the fascist movement20.
To return to Europe, we may note that despite possessing a wide knowledge of the European literature, the Themersons remained faithful to their Polish heritage by choosing Stern’s poem for their film. In this way the legacy of Polish Futurism was acknowledged by the leading figures of Polish avant-garde film.
Fragmentation 3: Jalu Kurek’s Rhythmical Calculations (1934) and Futurism
Jalu Kurek’s abstracted vision of reality and the shots of body parts in his Or (Obliczenia rytmiczne, Rhythmical Calculations) resemble the Italian Futurist film Amor pedestre (1914). In Marcel Fabre’s film a love story is depicted through close-ups of the protagonists’ feet. In Or we see the crossed legs of a man and a woman sitting on a bench. As in Fabre’s film (and in Kuczkowski’s work), Kurek’s piece constituted an expression of his belief in the redundancy of actors in film21.
Kurek’s now lost film also included some figurative elements and can now be viewed in the form of a reconstruction by Ignacy Szczepański (1985), from a scenario by Marcin Giżycki (based on Kurek’s notes). Or begun with a sequence with a rotating globe and a schema of a solar system in movement. An image of a heart was intercut with shots of a clock and an aeroplane about to take off. This was followed by a more lyrical section – shots of legs juxtaposed with depictions of cityscapes, with skyscrapers and trees. The scenes worked on the basis of association rather than cause-and-effect rule. The text appearing on the screen read: ‘direction, tension’ (upper part) and ‘the life of a man is the beating of his heart, which measures the working patterns of blood’ (lower part). Kurek’s text brings to mind a Futurist poem by Tytus Czyżewski, Hymn do maszyny mego ciała (“Hymn to the Machine of My Body”, 1922):
Czyżewski’s lines ‘blood / stomach / they pulsate / the beat / of my brain / blood / blood […] further resemble the writing that appears on the screen of Kurek’s film: ‘human life’, ‘blood’, ‘rhythm of a heart.’ In Czyżewski’s poem the rhythm of a heart equals the rhythm of a working machine. This perfectly working machine – machine-heart, telephone-brain – then sends electrical impulses to the rest of the body. In Kurek’s film see and hear a pulsating heart, inter-cut with a plane’s quickly moving propeller and a ticking clock as to further imply the link between a human body and the machine.
In another publication I have discussed that Kurek’s employment of abstract shots and his rejection of actors also resembles the key concerns of the French Impressionists, as captured in their concept of photogénie, which I shall discuss in relation to Jan Brzękowski’s script below23.But to conclude, it is worth mentioning that Kurek was the author of over 500 critical texts about cinema, all of which remain inaccessible to non-Polish speakers, as it is the case with most of the Polish avant-garde film sources, with the exception of the Themersons’s oeuvre.
Fragmentation 4: Jan Brzękowski’s Unmade Scenario A Woman and Wheels (1931) and Photogénie
In the late 1920s and early 1930s the French concept of photogénie interested many Polish critics, as well as the emerging avant-garde filmmakers, primarily because it allowed for an exploration of the aesthetic values of film. The French Impressionists’ various explanations of photogénie, all of which defy any unanimous definition, mostly emphasise the ‘magical’ and ‘mysterious’ (Louis Delluc) 24. Like Delluc, Jean Epstein allied photogénie with irrationality, indefinability, and instability, which could not be specified, qualified, or described by a film theorist. For him cinema’s essence relied on its elusiveness, thus making possible the expression of uncanny effects.25Wiesław Warszawski, a Polish critic and author of the lengthy study Photogénie (1928), also believed that searching for photogénie in film resembled “looking for a grand mystery of the optical illusion which gave form to the vision of life.”26
Given such definitions, traces of photogénie can be found in the imaginative leaps of Jan Brzękowski’s unmade scenario Kobieta i koła (A Woman and Wheels, 1931). The film was to open with an abstract étude, in which rectangles and circles changed their size and overlapped with each other, eventually forming planetary arrangements in a Cubist-Suprematist and Expressionist style. From the explosion of these faces an angel falls from the sky and changes into a magician-astronomer. In this unmade films images were to be transformed into different shapes, for example: when the angel walks down the street, suddenly a metro station appears transformed out of a suitcase; an image of a train changes into an opening drawer, while the angel pulls out a chess board from the suitcase; chess board figures transform into soldiers. At the end of the film all the figures bow and change into Cubist-like mannequins. The screen fills with people, and a large cloth appears above the crowd. A brutal hand rips it apart. This image quickly changes into a yacht, which moves away towards the horizon, which eventually tears apart like a paper. A black spot fills the whole screen27.
The film was never made but the script follows a dream-like logic and associations, which suggest Brzękowski’s fascination with the cinema of the French Impressionists (which he was familiar with when living in Paris). He also cited the mysterious paintings of Giorgio de Chirico as his main influence.
In 2010 an American experimental filmmaker Bruce Checefsky made the film under the title Woman and Circles (http://artmuseum.pl/en/filmoteka/praca/checefsky-bruce-a-woman-and-circles), using Brzękowski’s notes as guidance.
Fragmentation 5: Polish Constructivism and Abstract Film: Henryk Berlewi’s (Unmade) Mechanofaktura (1924)
Polish Constructivist (1921-1934) was arguably the most important of all Polish avant-garde formations. Although much in line with the Soviet avant-garde, Polish Constructivists did not develop any coherent theory of montage.Neither did they make any films, despite the attempts to create abstract films influenced by the German Absolute film. These unmade projects, however, testify that had the artists’ visions been realised, abstract films in Poland would have been created on the fringes of Constructivism. Instead, the Polish Constructivists’ attempts at making experimental films, like those of Vladimir Mayakovsky and Kasimir Malevich, remained theoretical.
An example of Henryk Berlewi in particular is of interest here. Berlewi considered film an ideal technical tool, which could realise the most utopian and futurist ideas. To illustrate this, in 1922 he developed a concept of mechano-faktura (‘mechano-facture’), which in its dynamic treatment of elements on the surface can be seen as in dialogue with Viking Eggeling’s experiments. Berlewi cited Eggeling’s films as a crucial influence. For him Eggeling had successfully resolved the problems of space and time to create music of abstract painterly forms, seen in their biological progression through his exploration of rhythm and application of constructivist principles. In this project Berlewi was concerned with surface texture, which modified “the flat character of a picture through the rhythmic arrangement of the differing textual properties, constituting the surface.”28 He imagined his film in the following fashion:
Composition with vertical and horizontal movements. The reading of this two part graphic invention should begin with the thin line at the bottom right. It increases in volume as it goes higher, grows stronger and swells in a crescendo into a thick bar, when the spectator (or listener) has reached the summit of this xylophone-like ascent, he descends by following the series of five squares, he then begins to move horizontally by advancing from the small black dot to the large one. From those the eye goes right, following the graduated vertical bars. The circles form the finale29.
A fascinating recent reconstruction of Berlewi’s concept, Kinefacture. Three Variations on Henryk Berlewi’s Mechanofacture of 1924 (2012), offers some insight into how the film might have looked. Giżycki’s short film (http://vimeo.com/37643832) is an attempt at constructing an animated abstract film, based on Berlewi’s drawings and notes.
But there were many other unrealised projects, for example those of Teresa Żarnowerówna and Mieczyslaw Szczuka. In the mid-1920s Poland’s leading film critic, Karol Irzykowski, wrote a Symbolist scenario but never managed to turn it into a film. Nonetheless, it is important to remember that like elsewhere in Poland much of the theory concerned with avant-garde film was created in tandem with practical attempts to explore the new medium. However, with the exception of Kuczkowski’s work, in the first half of the inter-war period in Poland avant-garde film existed only hypothetically, as the subject of critical writings and unrealised projects. But as suggested in this brief sketch, taking into account new approaches allows to fill in the existing gaps and thus invites a revisit of the existing accounts of the histories of the origins avant-garde film in general.
1. Ian Christie, ‘Before the Avant-Gardes: Artists and Cinema, 1910-14’, in Leonardo Quaresima, Laura Vichi (eds.), La decima musa: il cinema e le altre arti. The Tenth Muse: Cinema and Other Arts. Proceedings of the Vi Domitor Conference /VII International Film Studies Conference (Forum, Udine 2001), p. 367.
4. Tom Gunning, ‘Loie Fuller and the Art of Motion’, in Leonardo Quaresima, Laura Vichi (eds.), La decima musa: Il cinema e le altre arti. The Tenth Muse: Cinema and Other Arts, op. cit., p. 25.
5. Thomas Elsaesser, Filmgeschichte und frühes Kino: Archäologie eines Medienwandels (Edition Text + Kritik, München 2002), p. 305. Translated in Malte Hagener, Moving Forward, Looking Back: The European Avant-Garde and the Invention of Film Culture 1919-1939 (Amsterdam University Press, Amsterdam 2007), p. 27.
6. Pavle Levi, Cinema by Other Means (Oxford University Press, Oxford, New York 2012), p. 161.
7. Ivi, p. xiii,
8. Ivi, p. xvi.
9. Kamila Kuc, ‘Visionary Concepts and Non-realistic Expressions: Feliks Kuczkowski’s Animated Films and the Avant-Garde’ (forthcoming).
10. Feliks Kuczkowski, ‘Wspomnienie o filmie przyszlości’, typescript in the collection of the Archive of Polish Cinematheque, Syg.A.129, Warsaw , p. 6. My italics.
11. Andrzej Pronaszko, quoted in Stefania Krzysztofowicz-Kozakowska, Sztuka Młodej Polski (Wydawnictwo Kluszczyński, Kraków 2005), p. 255.
12. Teresa Kostyrko, ‘Formiści polscy a ideologia awangardy’, Liliana Bieszczad, ed., Wiek Awangardy (Universitas, Kraków 2006), p. 401.
13. Oskar Fischinger, ‘My Statements are in My Work’, Cindy Keefer and Jaap Guldemond (eds.), Oskar Fischinger 1900 – 1967. Experiments in Cinematic Abstraction (EYE Filmmuseum, Amsterdam 2013), p. 113.
14. Kuczkowski, 1955, p. 1.
15. Karol Irzykowski, Dziesiąta Muza. Zagadnienia Estetyczne Kina (Wydawnictwa Artystyczne i Filmowe, Warszawa 1977) , p. 84.
16. For a debate about the existence of ‘Futurist cinema’ see Wanda Strauven, ‘From “Primitive Cinema” to ‘Marvellous’, Wanda Strauven (ed.), The Cinema of Attractions Reloaded (Amsterdam University Press, Amsterdam 2006).
17. Anatol Stern, ‘Europa (fragment)’, Iluzjon, n. 3, 1989. See also Kuc, ‘The inexpressible unearthly beauty of the cinematograph’: The Impact of Polish Futurism on the First Polish Avant-Garde Films’ and ‘Excerpts from the “Archives” of the Polish Avant-Garde’, Kuc and Michael O’Pray (eds.), The Struggle for Form: Perspectives on Polish Avant-Garde Film, Columbia University Press, New York, 2014.
18. Stefan Themerson, ‘Europa: A letter to Piotr Zarębski’, 14 April 1988, published in Benjamin Cook and Łukasz Ronduda (eds.), The Films of Franciszka and Stefan Themerson, a booklet accompanying a DVD with Themersons’ surviving films (LUX, London 2007), p. 35. Piotr Zarebski’s remake, Europe II (1988) can be seen here http://artmuseum.pl/pl/filmoteka/praca/zarebski-piotr-europa-ii.
19. Stefan Themerson, ‘Europa: A scenario’, a letter to Józef Robakowski, Cook and Ronduda, 2007, p. 28 .
20. Mussolini’s victory in the 1922 elections was greeted with some interest in Poland. An unsigned article praised the Italians for a ‘healthy instinct’ in supporting the fascists, thus beating the socialists from ruling the country. See Anonymous, ‘Zwycięstwo faszystów’, Tygodnik Ilustrowany, n. 46, 11 November 1922, p. 7.
21. It is not certain that Kurek would have seen Fabre’s film, but out of all the Polish Futurists, he enjoyed the closest links to Italian Futurism. From 1922 he was in close correspondence with Marinetti, and in 1924 he studied in Naples, where he met Marinetti and his wife, the painter Benedetta Cappa. From that time on Kurek translated much of the Italian Futurist poetry, eventually publishing an anthology Chora fontanna. Wiersze futurystów włoskich (Sick fountain. The Poems of Italian Futurists, 1971).
22. Tytus Czyżewski, ‘Hymn do maszyny mego ciała’, Bogdana Carpenter, The poetic avant-garde in Poland, 1918 – 1939 (University of Washington Press, Seattle, London 1983) 
23. Kamila Kuc, ‘Grasping Fragmentary Evidence: Jalu Kurek’s Rhythmical Calculations (1934) and the Notion of Photogénie’, Greg de Cuir, Jr. (ed.), On Fragmentation: Alternative Film/Video Research Forum, 2012-2013 (Academic Film Center/Student City Cultural Center, Belgrade 2014).
24. Leo Charney and Vanessa R. Schwartz (eds.), Cinema and the Invention of Modern Life (University of California Press, Berkeley, Los Angeles, London 1995), p. 286.
25. See Jean Epstein, ‘On Certain Characteristics of Photogénie’, Richard Abel (ed.), French Film Theory and Criticism, vol.1: 1907-1929 (Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey 1988) , p. 317.
26. Wiesław Warszawski, Fotogeniczność (Uniwersytet Jagielloński, Kraków 1928), p.12.
27. See Jan Brzękowski, ‘Kobieta i koła (scenariusz filmowy)’, Linia, n. 1, 1931.
28. Henryk Berlewi, ’Film w plastyce. Wywiad’, Film, n. 33, 1958, p. 10.