Written by Andreas Babiolakis

Warning: The following review is of a film that is part of TIFF 2023 and may contain spoilers for Green Border. Reader discretion is advised.

While acclaimed director Agnieszka Holland was perusing through the streets of Toronto (as she was in town for TIFF 2023), she had six or seven bodyguards surrounding her at all times. This is highly understandable given the sensitive circumstances she is currently facing, including Holland threatening a lawsuit against the justice minister for Poland (these follow accusations that Holland has acted unpatriotically towards her homeland with her latest feature film, Green Border). This led to a disastrous, review bombing smear campaign from a plethora of dolts that haven’t even seen the film. I don’t expect everyone to respond positively to Green Border given the film’s incredibly difficult nature, but my screening at TIFF concluded with thunderous applause. For two and a half hours, we were left feeling sick to our stomachs. Despite the hostile nature of Green Border, I don’t think it’s fair to say it is explicitly against Poland as a nation; Holland is clearly angry with the treatment of refugees in general. She even acknowledges that the onus is also on the countries that these immigrants flee or are led away from, as a part of Green Border has the revelation that the nation of Belarus has lied to these citizens when they promised asylum in Poland (likely to use these people as political pawns).

Look. I’m not completely in tune with global politics nor would I ever pretend to be, and I cannot tell you to not be offended by Green Border or that it will sit well with those that pay attention. Holland goes all-in with this feature film to the point that it is actually quite expected that people will be pissed off (either in favour of the film and what Holland is saying or against the director and Green Border to the point of loathsomeness). All Holland wants is a response, and that’s precisely what she will get with this feature film. As we endure human suffering for nearly two and a half hours, there’s no way you can’t be moved — in either direction — by Green Border. Despite the critical success the film currently has, it’s clear that the film will almost certainly not be submitted by the government of Poland as the country’s submission for the Academy Awards’ Best International Feature Film category (the thought of Poland selecting this film after the ongoing legal threats is almost hilarious at this point). All I would say is to watch the film before making any judgment on it (but that kind of goes without saying in almost any situation, one would think).

We start with the titular barricade, and the “green border” happens to be a sea of trees separating Belarus (and the Middle East) and Poland (and Europe). The film takes place during a time when Poland declared a state of emergency due to Belarusian dictator Alexander Lukashenko’s declaration that he would poison the EU with immigrants, contraband, and drugs. All we can see is foliage, but there is spilled blood, barbed wire, and turmoil underneath these peaks. These trees are actually green, but they will fade to greyscale as the title card itself turns the emerald hue. For the remainder of the film, there’s not a hint of colour in this high-contrast, black-and-white nightmare. We proceed with a family of Syrian refugees en route to Sweden who connects with an Afghanistan woman travelling alone (she has an issue with going forward due to language barriers so the grandfather of the Syrian family gladly helps her with translations since they both can speak English). We eventually come across other immigrants from all over including parts of Africa, but everyone faces the same fate: once they make it into Poland (should they be so lucky), they are thrown back to the Belarus border, only to be sent back to the Polish side shortly afterwards. People are made to be unwanted goods here, regardless of where they want to wind up; even corpses are hoisted over the border wall so neither nation can claim these lives.

The refugees starve, are weakened, and are slowly rotting away. Some get sicker than others, but it’s safe to say that everyone is experiencing extreme anguish. Amid this agony are two subplots of opposing views. The first of these outlier chapters is that of one of the border guards named Jan, who is expecting his first child with his wife. She promises others that Jan is unlike the other border guards, but that doesn’t stop the general public from judging them. To be fair, Jan is continuously mocked in training for being softer or having a heart, and it’s clear to see that his descent into the dark side will be short. Additionally, there is Julia: a therapist who finds two of the refugees from the start of the film drowning in a swamp outside of her house (one sadly doesn’t survive). This event persuades Julia towards a new life of activism to try and save more people who are just trying to find ways to live peacefully. Because these people are caught in a game of chicken between two nations during a state of emergency, it is crucial to understand the trajectories of both Jan and Julia, particularly because their stories converge in the final act (and maybe not in ways you’d expect).

Rarely does Green Border let up in tone as it pummels you again, and again, and again with its message. I feel that the third act (after the moments where we get introduced to Julia, let’s say) slows down a little bit, and while I appreciate the downtime in a film that is quite unforgiving, it’s the only sore point of a film that is relentlessly powerful because of how it takes a breather (in a way that seemingly stunts the film at least every so slightly). I don’t expect to see much hope in a film with subject matter this troubling, but there’s always going to be even a sliver of it in an Agnieszka Holland film: from a director who may appear to have no faith in humanity on the surface (but I think she is far more interested in the stories of promising revolutionaries than one may think). I don’t think Green Border does the Polish government any favours, but — and not to be otherwise — I don’t think the film is holding any particular nation in any high regard. In fact, it shows disdain towards the very idea of the limitation of freedoms, resources, and aid for those who have nowhere to go. The topic of refugees is a tricky one and I understand that nothing is as simple as just accepting people into your country, but we also have to acknowledge that the treatment that is presently going on is no moral answer by any stretch.

No matter where your views fall in this discussion, Green Border is sure to get your blood boiling. While a teensy bit overlong, Green Border feels permanent with its exhibitions of distress. Because we follow so many different people, you won’t know who will survive and who won’t (without going into specifics, a large portion of the characters we follow will not see the end of their journey alive, I’m sad to say). What Green Border showcases is an established cinematic titan operating with extreme rage and sympathy via portraits of the damned during a drought of compassion and solace. It won’t answer much or provide many hints of comfort, but even just getting distraught individuals to their destinations is a victory. With very few changes of heart (but exactly where they need to be in the confinements of the narrative), Green Border proclaims that any shred of help is enough to go the distance whether people realize it or not (or no matter the repercussions). Agnieszka Holland has put herself in hot water more than ever before with Green Border, but it’s clear she doesn’t care. She felt that this film needed to be made, and it is only by watching it that you can ascertain whether or not you agree with what she is conveying; it is next to impossible to not agree with her that it at least needed to be made. In an age where news is either fake or censored (thanks, Trudeau), art is sterile in hopes of not hurting any feelings, and people are being conditioned into complacency, it’s at least important to be aware of the extent of contemporary crises.

Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Toronto Metropolitan University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.