Silver (Marta Mazurek) and Golden (Michalina Olszanska), a pair of mermaids, seduce the members of a band to introduce them to human culture. Getting legs when they are dry helps them move around. With their stunning singing voices and their reappearing tails when they get wet, the two win over crowds as part of a burlesque show. Silver takes an interest in the bass player, but relationships with humans are dangerous, and tricky as she lacks genitals, at least in the expected place. While she sets her mind on obtaining a “pussy,” Golden is finding less to enjoy and more to be concerned with. She also hasn’t forgotten that humans are generally food. A punk rocker merman, who ripped out one of his horns, warns Golden that if Silver’s love interest does not return her feelings, she will turn to sea foam, and if she loses her tail, she’ll lose her voice.
I complain about films being too familiar. It’s the same thing over and over. I’m normally happy if anything about a movie can be considered new. Well, The Lure made me very happy. A Polish, surrealistic, comedy, tragedy, fairytale, horror, art house, musical—sometimes all at once, more often swapping from one genre to the next—The Lure is as odd a film as you are likely to find. Yet the basics of human (and inhuman) interaction are grounded, so it all holds together, even as it ditches a department store musical number with dozens of dancers to move on to a blood drenched crawl in the dirt with a heart being chewed on. I never knew if I was about to see disco dancing, nudity, or an artery being ripped open, or perhaps several combined with some bittersweet romance.
In the 1980s, with the communist state still standing, but badly shaking, Poland briefly had a type of night club which was unique to that country. These were high classed establishments while also being sleazy. They were places for fine dining with the spouse as well as a good place to pick up prostitutes. The entertainment was a mix of nicely produced Western cover songs and strippers. And our mermaids end up at one such club. First time director Agnieszka Smoczynska calls upon the nostalgia for those places, and thus the nostalgia for a time of hope and dismay. But that’s about as political as The Lure gets, unless we start talking about sexism and the role of women in society. But even there, the film is more interested in eternal questions of love, men & women, and family bonds. And if any of it starts getting too deep, then there’s a song, or bared breasts, or graphic surgery.
While all of the actors do a fine job with their bizarre characters, Michalina Olszanska is something special. She dominates—a metaphoric siren as she plays a literal one. I have little knowledge of Polish cinema, but it seems her career is flourishing and I’m going to search out her work. She is a star.
The Lure will no doubt turn some people off due to its weirdness, but to me that’s its biggest selling point. This is a film that doesn’t care about the rules, but does care about its characters and its moments.