(1.5 / 5)
The fundamental question any film must ask itself is, “Why tell this story?”
In the case of 11 Minutes, the twenty-fifth film from Polish director Jerzy Skolimowski, the problem is exacerbated: why tell these stories, any of them?
Why tell the story of ambivalent blonde actress (Paulina Chapko), the intense, insinuating casting agent (Richard Dormer) looking to bed her, or her wounded husband (Wojciech Mecwaldowski), who spends the film stalking stylized hotel corridors in search of her? Why tell the story of a well-informed hot dog vendor (Andrzej Chyra) with possible history of pedophilia, the nuns he serves, or the coked-up, sexed-up courier (Dawid Ogrodnik) heading towards a rendezvous?
Why the porn-watching couple (Piotr Glowacki and Agata Buzek), the team of thwarted paramedics, or the callow teen (Lukasz Sikora) looking to carry out a robbery? Why the recurring, slightly askew POV of that dog, its stylishly coiffured, if troubled owner (Ifi Ude), or the sudden image of an iridescent soap bubble?
Set in an unidentified city center, and apparently filmed in Warsaw, 11 Minutes’ dead-infused appeal hinges on its repeated time-frame building to some as-yet unidentified apocalyptic event, one which you presume (or hope) will tie all these disparate strands together. The roar of a low-flying airplane carries an eerie resonance of 9/11 and a mysterious dark blot is reportedly seen in the sky by several characters.
The film’s convergence-cum-climax, however, hinges on arbitrary details that are easily overlooked amidst the stylistic flourishes, like a droplet of water flowing backwards up a wall or a fast-forward elevator freak-out reminiscent of Jacob’s Ladder. While Skolimowski’s direction is often elegant, if a bit over-reliant on Spike Lee-type dolly shots, all it shows us is ultimately incidental.
There’s an abundance of mood, but with the narrative of Vantage Point — but none of the drive— and the pretension of Zabriskie Point — but none of the poetry — 11 Minutes simply ends up generating static.
