Krzysztof Komeda Quintet
Astigmatic

Komeda will never see the end of his golden decade.

There is this certain Krzysztof Trzciński, also known as Krzysztof Komeda (April 27, 1931 – April 23, 1969), a young man dear to the gods, from whose fingers and head emanated a peculiar frenzy. And there are those who made a requiem out of this frenzy.

Take Polish cinema of that period, for example. What would it be without Komeda? A spit on the asphalt.

Take Skolimowski's Le départ, Golden Bear in Berlin in '67 (not to mention the films of Polański or Andrzej Wajda): there's Jean-Pierre Léaud, the barely twenty-year-old assistant of a hairdresser, who turns and writhes, frantically trying to give body to his obsession. He looks for a car to race, because speed is the purpose of his life, the only and the true. And he does everything to have it.

Of course, who doesn't love the enfant prodige of the nouvelle vague? Oui, tout est très beau, mais...

Mais il y a de la musique. Only Komeda's touch can give shape to everything, accompanying, almost dialoguing, with Léaud's obsession.

(cf. here)

Take instead, for example, this shimmering jewel from 1966 named Astigmatic. Only three pieces, of frantic and humble research; to map a sound world that Komeda had dug out from who knows where.

This pianist, who in the '50s played like everyone in Poland then, still like the roaring twenties à la Dixieland, now picks up a handful of daring youngsters and plays an after-bop in gratia dei.

And how he plays!

He smooths the time of a restrained and cinematic frenzy. Not only animated but internally shaken by a long tremor of three-quarters of an hour.

With the raven phrasing of Tomasz Stańko, from the inflamed clamor, yet very light, swirling like a leaf in the wind, you can see the sound.

It sounds exactly like a vague unease, never completely satisfied.

These five fanatics draw invisible geometries of a hypnotic world, and with feverish rhythms, they set them in motion.

There is no break or pause, but only an imperceptible transfer, which from syncopated becomes quiet and humble, and then tirelessly moves forward with that fury and restlessness.

All in one breath, a sharp and rhythmic cinematic swoon.

In short: a movie for the ears.