Warsaw

Polish director Jan Komasa might be best known in the United States for his 2019 Oscar-nominated film “Corpus Christi,” but his biggest box-office success was in Poland for his 2014 film “Warsaw 44,” about the Warsaw Uprising, the bloody effort by the Polish resistance to expel the occupying German army from the city toward the end of World War II.

Komasa knows authoritarianism in its most flagrant, brutal forms, but his new film “Anniversary” imagines a scenario in which fascism doesn’t stomp in, jackbooted, but creeps, pretty and ladylike, on kitten-heeled feet. It’s a thought experiment more than anything else, from a story by Komasa and Lori Rosene-Gambino, the latter who wrote the screenplay.

“Anniversary” maps five years in the life — and obliteration — of an American family, a microcosm of a larger rapid political devolution that turns suburban utopia into a dystopia with a speed that could make your head spin.

Meet the Taylors — we’ll get to know them across reunions and celebrations starting with an anniversary party for Ellen (Diane Lane) and Paul (Kyle Chandler). She’s a professor at Georgetown, a public intellectual caught up in the university culture-wars debate; he’s a chef, and they have four children upon whom they dote: Cynthia (Zoey Deutch, also in this week’s “Nouvelle Vague”), an environmental lawyer, Anna (Madeleine Brewer), a provocative comedian, high-school science nerd Birdie (Mckenna Grace) and brother Josh (Dylan O’Brien), a nebbishy, struggling writer. The camera knits them all together in long shots, swirling around their idyllic backyard.

Josh has brought home a new girlfriend, Liz (Phoebe Dynevor, of 2023’s “Fair Play”), who is carefully coiffed and poised, immaculately presented and mannered, though her perfection gives his sisters pause. After the introductions, she and Ellen have a quiet, awkward moment together. As one of Ellen’s former students, Liz wrote a thesis that scandalized the professor, which Ellen describes to her husband as having “radical anti-democratic sentiments,” advocating for a single-party system. The title? “The Change.”

While Liz says she “came here with the best of intentions” and claims she and Josh were introduced by their shared agent, Ellen is suspicious and rightly so. The enigmatic Liz is mild-mannered and quiet, but her ideas are anything but. As she hugs Ellen, she whispers, “I used to be afraid of you but I don’t think I am anymore.” That is never more clear than when she sends Ellen a copy of her newly published book, “The Change,” dedicated to “the haters, the doubters and the academic stranglers.”

Two years later, the Change is officially afoot. Liz is a celebrity, now working with a mysterious organization called the Cumberland Company. She and Josh are married, pregnant with twins, and he’s achieved a conservative glow-up. New flags are popping up in the Taylor’s well-heeled neighborhood and things are shifting in ways that make Ellen uncomfortable, enraged even. But in the spirit of politeness and family unity, she acquiesces to Paul’s desire for a nice family Thanksgiving, despite their political differences.

Therein lies what might be “Anniversary’s” biggest warning: Don’t let the fox into the henhouse, even if it seems rude not to. Ellen maintains an appropriately wary distance and skepticism of Liz, but Paul’s fatal flaw is his assumption of good faith. He hasn’t even read “The Change” because, frankly, he doesn’t want to know. But as Liz attaches herself to Josh like a parasite, perhaps in an attempt to enact revenge on her former professor, so too do the other Taylor children topple as the nation changes under their feet.

Some might find “Anniversary” too vague: What, precisely, is Liz’s political stance that makes her so powerful and so repugnant to Ellen? She has advocated for a “single-party system” branded under the guise of “solidarity,” but the result is an autocratic surveillance state that suppresses free speech, upheld by a violent paramilitary police force. The film never gets into the specifics, perhaps because the only ideology of fascism is the concentration of power. “Anniversary” suggests the rhetoric doesn’t matter when we can turn on each other so easily, humanity and freedom crushed under such a state.

It is fascinating that recent movies that attempt to grapple with contemporary sociopolitical issues often feminize the threat: the #MeToo cancel culture fable “Tár” or this year’s academia scandal film “After the Hunt.” “Anniversary” situates a nonthreatening woman as the vessel for such evil, even as Liz’s male host, Josh, starts to embody the most extreme outcomes of what she has set in motion.

“Anniversary” is a deeply nihilistic film that can’t be described as a cautionary tale — that horse has already left the barn. Rather, it’s a hypothetical question as character study, an examination of how this happens and an assertion that a system like this shows no mercy, not even to its most loyal subjects, despite what we want to believe.

Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

The people queueing for the Eurostar at London St Pancras station, rushing in from the rain in hoodies, look noticeably less enthusiastic than the usual holiday crowds. But then, we aren’t heading to the usual hot, heady holiday destinations of Spain or the south of France, but boarding a train to north-east Europe. For me, it will be a journey of more than 1,000 miles – via Amsterdam, Berlin and Warsaw to Vilnius – visiting some of the coolest capitals in the north. At least in terms of temperature.

As England sweltered this summer, and Spain reached a hellish 46C, it made sense to head away from the heat on what is now fashionably being called a “coolcation”. I left in August, with a suitcase full of jumpers.

There is something irresistibly romantic about long train trips, watching the geography unfold outside the window. I leave London for Amsterdam on the Eurostar, eating a pain au chocolat as we speed through rural French flatlands and glide past red-roofed Belgian farmhouses, and then the distinctive, tall art nouveau buildings of the Netherlands. In Amsterdam, I switch trains to the Deutsche Bahn, grabbing a packet of Stroopwafel and jumping on board alongside cool Dutch kids with asymmetric hair. I know we have entered Germany when I spot a VW factory, and the graffiti becomes better – and more profuse.

As for my coolcation, it feels burning hot when I arrive in Berlin, emerging from the glass and steel Hauptbahnhof into a summer evening where hipsters on deckchairs are drinking cocktails at Capital Beach on the Spree River.

The next morning, I stroll through the lush Tiergarten past men in black leathers chugging in the Biergarten; through the shadowy blocks of the Holocaust memorial; under the intimidating Brandenburg Gate. I’m heading to Alexanderplatz – where teenagers congregate under the TV tower – and I’m ruminating on how eastern European cities have a harsher aesthetic than those in the soft south. The remnants of the Soviet era echo in the hardness of the culture, in the brutalist architecture I’m passing, and then suddenly as pounding techno surrounds me. Marching down Unter Den Linden, I find myself caught in a procession of floats surrounded by people wearing all black, looking like they’re heading to Berghain nightclub.

My next train, from Berlin to Warsaw, is the IC Intercity link. It’s a Polish train, on which the carriages are split into comfortable six-person compartments. In one of these I sit opposite a boy with a mohawk eating paprika crisps, and I watch the city turn to pine forests of pale thin trees.

Train journeys mimic cruises – you hop on and off in different cities (ideal for my ADHD) and, in between, lounge around eating too much. It’s a five-hour journey from Berlin to Warsaw, and when gazing at farmland becomes monotonous, the restaurant carriage offers distraction. I order Kotlet schabowy (€10.50), and a delicious plate of breaded pork chop, cucumber salad and floury boiled potatoes appears, which I eat surrounded by men with blond buzzcuts drinking Żywiec beers.

It’s startling to emerge from the bunker of Warsaw Central station to a horizon of glass skyscrapers reflecting the deep red sky.

The next day, I discover Warsaw – a captivating juxtaposition of history and modernity. In the Old Town, I eat pierogi beside Marie Curie’s house, then explore cobbled streets with bright rows of coloured medieval buildings, which were bombed during the second world war but have been so faithfully reconstructed they have earned Unesco status. Their Disneyland-esque quality is only lessened by the artillery pockmarks.

Elsewhere, austere Soviet buildings have morphed into hipster cafes with oak counters and earthenware cups. BarStudio, below the Stalin-era Palace of Culture and Science – now reclaimed as a tourist attraction with an observation deck – runs silent-disco nights and serves matcha crepes from a menu decorated ironically with communist-era cartoons.

Taking a train is far easier than flying – there’s no negotiating airport security or check-in – and soon I become dangerously casual, running and hopping onboard with a picnic of local foods.

We roll out of Warsaw and I sit munching Kopernik iced gingerbread biscuits as we pass endless farmland, the occasional dilapidated dacha, factories and small towns of Identikit modern houses in grids. Today’s journey to Vilnius will take nine hours, so it’s a relief when at Mockava, on the Lithuanian border, we are ejected on to a remote platform in a sunny forest. I stand sweltering in 26C heat, wondering why I packed so many jumpers.

The black, double-height Lithuanian train is open-plan, modern, slick and packed full of heaving bike racks, but the dining options are disappointingly limited. I eat a sad toasted-cheese sandwich as we glide through more farmland and forests.

Vilnius, although the most eastern city I’m travelling to, feels the most western in style. Its baroque buildings – including cathedrals that survived the Soviets and have earned it Unesco status – blend into art nouveau architecture. Even former communist blocks here are painted in soft pastels, and wide boulevards (a USSR endeavour) open up a lush city. Elsewhere, meandering cobbled streets offer up cafes and pretty boutiques.

The further east you go, the cheaper things get: coffees that cost €5 in Berlin and €3 in Warsaw are €2 here. But the enthusiasm for capitalism is evident in the number of luxury Lithuanian boutiques and western brands such as H&M and Mango, and a growing tech industry: Vinted is based here. Užupis, the bohemian quarter – where art exhibitions and Banksy-style graffiti adorn the streets – has its own logo: a blue hand with a hole in the middle. My guide says it shows that money falls through in an enticement to spend, spend, spend, but Užupis’s own tourism minister, Kestas Lukoskinas, has said: “The main thing is we have nothing to hide in our hands.”

Still, the heart and backbone of Vilnius is creative, a scene both historic and constantly reinvented. On Literatų gatvė (Literature Street) in Vilnius Old Town, individual wall plaques celebrate writers associated with the city, including Adam Mickiewicz, who lived on the street, Joseph Brodsky and Romain Gary.

The Lithuanian National Opera and Ballet Theatre, where tickets start at a very reasonable £15, is matched as a cultural attraction by Lukiškės Prison 2.0 – a Soviet jail shut in 2019 and now reinvented as a creative space, with cells turned into studios and stages hosting trendy bands such as Aurora and Fontaines DC. At Mo Museum, a modern Lithuanian art gallery established by scientists and philanthropists Danguolė and Viktoras Butkus – and one of the first large-scale private collections of its kind since independence – the current exhibition, GamePlay, explores the creative impact of video games.

Although I try classic Lithuanian cuisine – cepelinai (stodgy potato dumplings filled with ground meat), and pink soup (borscht with kefir) – I’m excited to find a burgeoning Michelin restaurant scene. At Ertlio Namas, a nine-course tasting menu is an affordable €70, with traditional dishes reinterpreted with modern spin: salted ide fish with jelly, bread soup with beer-braised beef, and buckwheat babka come as delicious exquisite morsels.

Vilnius repeats Soviet motifs now familiar on my journey: brutalist architecture; cool young people in all black and boots; and the compulsory revamped TV tower, where you can climb to the 67th floor and take a horrifyingly scary walk on a handrail-free ledge, attached only by a rope.

The journey home feels faster; the west softer, even though the train is delayed by five hours (so much for German efficiency). I wander Amsterdam hazily, the harsh and uniform brutalism replaced by the uniquely elegant canal houses and oily Van Goghs – yet I’m surprised, among the clatter and chaos, to miss the calm, clean order of the eastern European cities. I arrive back from my hot coolcation, in England – where it is raining.

The trip was provided by Go Vilnius and the Polish National Tourist . In Berlin, Hotel Zoo has doubles from £110 a nigh. . Rail journey: London-Amsterdam-London on Eurostar €339; Amsterdam-Berlin on NS International €108.99; Berlin-Warsaw on Deutsche Bahn €53.99; Warsaw-Vilnius-Warsaw LTG Link Train €50; Warsaw- Amsterdam Deutsche Bahn €165.49

‘Eye-catching’ was how Gray described Mulligan when he arrived in the summer, and the 22-year-old has only continued to win over the fans with his performances.

He tops the charts when it comes to successful dribbles, and ranks highly for touches in the opposition box and duels won.

What that boils down to is a box-to-box midfielder who not only gets stuck in, but drives forward and gets Hibs into the right areas of the pitch.

“Looks like a brilliant signing,” said Hibs’ fan David when BBC Sport Scotland asked for opinions on Mulligan’s arrival. “A very versatile player who can play in multiple positions, so it will be very interesting to see how he settles in.”

“Brilliant signing,” added Alex. “Good young Scottish talent with good experience at a young age. He will thrive at Hibs.”

Thrive is the word. Although he was rested from the starting XI against Livingston at the weekend, he came on in the 82nd minute to score the second goal – an absolute screamer from outside the box that rattled in off a post.

Having been moved between midfield and right wing-back during his time at Dundee, it’s unsurprising that goals never featured heavily in his previous stats.

But he seems to have added that dimension to his game, having been allowed by Gray to roam forward in attack, which continues to excel in his nascent days at Easter Road.