Ida weaves together the road-trip movie format along with a quiet and somber interpersonal drama, leading its viewers to question ideas of self-identity, preservation and erasure of culture, grief, and legacy. With powerful acting and beautifully shot, it is, as The New York Times’s A.O. Scott calls it, “One of the finest European films in recent memory.”
This 2015 Academy Award winner for Best Foreign Language Film follows a young nun Anna (Agata Trzebuchowska) in 1962 Poland meeting her only living relative, her aunt Wanda (Agata Kulesza), before she takes her vows. Anna soon discovers that she is Jewish, with her real name being Ida. The film follows the pair as they drive through Poland, searching both for Anna’s parents’ grave site and for larger answers regarding their family and identity.
At its core, Ida centers this complex relationship between niece and aunt, with masterful, emotional performances by Trzebuchowska and Kulesza. Trzebuchowska’s quiet Anna/Ida has an understated curiosity as she uncovers information relating to her family’s tragic history. Kulesza’s Wanda is truly heartbreaking, especially when her rare, deep emotions begin to seep through her character’s icy, protective exterior as the film progresses. Their contrasting personalities and beliefs build and control Ida’s tension and drama, with their exchanges making for an alluring and devastating watch.
Ida is simply gorgeous, filmed in black and white with a 4:3 aspect ratio, reminiscent of films from its story’s era. Every frame feels like its own painting—a detailed, visual feast filled with symbolism to be unpacked upon rewatch and rewatch without ever feeling gimmicky or overly complicated. In particular, viewers will be captivated by the contrast between lightness and darkness as they are transported through the film’s variety of locations—Anna’s nunnery, their old family home and farm, the woods, and Wanda’s apartment, among others.
As The New Yorker’s Anthony Lane aptly writes, “This is solemn filmmaking, devoutly restrained and unshakably purposeful. We expect its austerity to fend us off, but no; it gathers us in and forbids us to look away.”
Beyond its optical prowess, Ida’s use of diegetic sound is stunning. The film features a hotel band and Wanda’s records playing a variety of music interspersed with the environmental sounds of spoons clashing on dinnerware during otherwise a silent meal or to the hum of a car’s engine as it drives through the Polish countryside and forests.
Ida’s soundscape immerses its viewers, with The Washington Post’s Ann Hornaday writing that “For a film about grave moral questions and contradictions, Ida possesses more than its share of sensory pleasures, among them a soundtrack dominated by the silky sounds of John Coltrane and a command of time and place that allows viewers to feel that they’ve been on the same grim road as the story’s intriguing protagonists.”