By Ray Pride

Music Box Films Takes U.S. and Canadian Rights For Pawel Pawlikowski’s IDA

For Immediate Release

Second Quarter 2014 Release Planned

Chicago, IL (September 25, 2013) – Music Box Films announced today that it has acquired all U.S. and Canadian rights to Pawel Pawlikowski’s Polish Communist-era drama IDA, which riveted festival audiences at its premiere screenings in Telluride and Toronto.

IDA tells the story of a young orphaned novice nun exposed to a past and a family she never knew existed. Best known for his breakthrough The Last Resort and BAFTA-award winning My Summer of Love, IDA marks the first film for the Polish-born, British filmmaker, set in his homeland and was a co-production with Opus Film (Poland), Phoenix FilmInvestments (Denmark) and Fandango Portobello (UK).  IDA won the International Critics’ Prize (FIPRESCI Prize) in Toronto as well as the won the top prize at Poland’s recent Gdynia Film Festival along with Best Actress (Agata Kulesza) and Cinematography (Lukasz Zal and Ryszard Lenczewski). Music Box plans a winter/spring North American festival campaign followed by a late second quarter 2014 theatrical release.

In 1962 Poland, Anna (newcomer Agata Trzebuchowska), an eighteen-year-old orphan raised in the convent, is preparing to become a nun when the Mother Superior insists she first visit her one remaining living relative. The sheltered and innocent Anna soon finds herself in the presence of her aunt Wanda (Kulesza), a worldly and world-wearyCommunist Party insider, who informs Anna that her real name is Ida, she isJewish and her parents were murdered during the Nazi occupation. This revelation triggers a heart wrenching journey for the two women into the countryside, to the family house and into the secrets of the repressed past as it evokes the legacy of the Holocaust and the realities of postwar Communism.

The deal was negotiated by Academy Award-winning producer Eric Abraham (Kolya) for the production and William Schopf, President of Music Box Films.

“IDA is a beautifully directed, powerfully acted drama that seamlessly weaves two wonderfully realized characters with deeply resonant narrative and thematic motifs,” states Edward Arentz, Managing Director of Music Box Films. “In short, IDA is a masterwork from Pawel Pawlikowski, and we look forward to sharing it with North American audiences.”



Music Box Films is a leading theatrical and home entertainment distributor of foreign language, American independent and documentary films in North America.


Past releases include Guillaume Canet’s hit thriller TELL NO ONE; the film adaptations of Stieg Larsson’s trilogy of international mega-selling novels – the first in the series- THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO, with over $10 million in US box office, was one of the most popular international releases of thedecade; Terence Davies’ THE DEEP BLUE SEA starring Rachel Weisz, New York Film Critics Circle Best Actress winner; and Philippe Falardeau’s Academy Award-nominated MONSIEUR LAZHAR.


Upcoming titles include Roger Michell’s LE WEEK-END, written by Hanef Kureishi and starring Jim Broadbent; the hit French mini-series THE RETURNED premiering on Sundance Channel; five-time Academy Award® nominee Jan Troell’s THE LAST SENTENCE; and Jan Ole Gerster’s German smash hit OH BOY, which swept the German Oscars earlier this year.


Music Box Films is independently owned and operated by the Southport Music Box Corporation, which also owns and operates The Music Box Theatre, Chicago’s premiere venue for independent and foreign films.


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This is probably going to sound petty, but Martin Scorsese insisting that critics see his film in theaters even though it’s going straight to Netflix and then not screening it in most American cities was a watershed moment for me in this theatrical versus streaming debate.

I completely respect when a filmmaker insists that their movie is meant to be seen in the theater, but the thing is, you got to actually make it possible to see it in the theater. Some movies may be too small for that, and that’s totally OK.

When your movie is largely financed by a streaming service and is going to appear on that streaming service instantly, I don’t really see the point of pretending that it’s a theatrical film. It just seems like we are needlessly indulging some kind of personal fantasy.

I don’t think that making a feature film length production that is going to go straight to a video platform is some sort of “step down.“ I really don’t. Theatrical exhibition as we know it is dying off anyway, for a variety of reasons.

I should clarify myself because this thread is already being misconstrued — I’m talking about how the movie is screened in advance. If it’s going straight to Netflix, why the ritual of demanding people see it in the theater?

There used to be a category that everyone recognized called “TV movie” or “made for television movie” and even though a lot of filmmakers considered that déclassé, it seems to me that probably 90% of feature films fit that description now.

Atlantis has mostly sunk into the ocean, only a few tower spires remain above the waterline, and I’m increasingly at peace with that, because it seems to be what the industry and much of the audience wants. We live in an age of convenience and information control.

Only a very elite group of filmmakers is still allowed to make movies “for theaters“ and actually have them seen and judged that way on a wide scale. Even platform releasing seems to be somewhat endangered. It can’t be fought. It has to be accepted.

9. Addendum: I’ve been informed that it wasn’t Scorsese who requested that the Bob Dylan documentary only be screened for critics in theaters, but a Netflix representative indicated the opposite to me, so I just don’t know what to believe.

It’s actually OK if your film is not eligible for an Oscar — we have a thing called the Emmys. A lot of this anxiety is just a holdover from the days when television was considered culturally inferior to theatrical feature films. Everybody needs to just get over it.

In another 10 to 20 years they’re probably going to merge the Emmys in the Oscars into one program anyway, maybe they’ll call it the Contentys.

“One of the fun things about seeing the new Quentin Tarantino film three months early in Cannes (did I mention this?) is that I know exactly why it’s going to make some people furious, and thus I have time to steel myself for the takes.

Back in July 2017, when it was revealed that Tarantino’s next project was connected to the Manson Family murders, it was condemned in some quarters as an insulting and exploitative stunt. We usually require at least a fig-leaf of compassion for the victims in true-crime adaptations, and even Tarantino partisans like myself – I don’t think he’s made a bad film yet – found ourselves wondering how he might square his more outré stylistic impulses with the depiction of a real mass murder in which five people and one unborn child lost their lives.

After all, it’s one thing to slice off with gusto a fictional policeman’s ear; it’s quite another to linger over the gory details of a massacre that took place within living memory, and which still carries a dread historical significance.

In her essay The White Album, Joan Didion wrote: “Many people I know in Los Angeles believe that the Sixties ended abruptly on August 9, 1969, ended at the exact moment when word of the murders on Cielo Drive traveled like brushfire through the community, and in a sense this is true.”

Early in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, as Leonardo DiCaprio and Brad Pitt’s characters drive up the hill towards Leo’s bachelor pad, the camera cranes up gently to reveal a street sign: Cielo Drive. Tarantino understands how charged that name is; he can hear the Molotov cocktails clinking as he shoulders the crate.

As you may have read in the reviews from Cannes, much of the film is taken up with following DiCaprio and Pitt’s characters – a fading TV actor and his long-serving stunt double – as they amusingly go about their lives in Los Angeles, while Margot Robbie’s Sharon Tate is a relatively minor presence. But the spectre of the murders is just over the horizon, and when the night of the 9th finally arrives, you feel the mood in the cinema shift.

No spoilers whatsoever about what transpires on screen. But in the audience, as it became clear how Tarantino was going to handle this extraordinarily loaded moment, the room soured and split, like a pan of cream left too long on the hob. I craned in, amazed, but felt the person beside me recoil in either dismay or disgust.

Two weeks on, I’m convinced that the scene is the boldest and most graphically violent of Tarantino’s career – I had to shield my eyes at one point, found myself involuntarily groaning “oh no” at another – and a dead cert for the most controversial. People will be outraged by it, and with good reason. But in a strange and brilliant way, it takes Didion’s death-of-the-Sixties observation and pushes it through a hellfire-hot catharsis.

Hollywood summoned up this horror, the film seems to be saying, and now it’s Hollywood’s turn to exorcise it. I can’t wait until the release in August, when we can finally talk about why.

~ Robbie Collin