Kill It and Leave This Town
A grotesque and bleak masterpiece by a filmmaker who revisits collective memories from his childhood in Łódź, hoping to find solace.

"I simply don't believe in death."
A grotesque and darkly comedic Polish opus eleven years in the making, Kill It and Leave This Town is a macabre and bittersweet feature debut that serves as a direct mirror of its director's troubled psyche. Drawing from his own scars, Mariusz Wilczyński - through his animated avatar - revisits collective memories from his childhood in Łódź, a black industrial city in 1970s Poland, where rain perpetually drapes the landscape in melancholy and lament. By fleeing from despair following the loss of his loved ones, he hopes to find solace and a safer harbour in his bleak memories.
In Wilczyński’s introspective journey, characters emerge through crudely hand-drawn sketches on crumpled paper backgrounds - like one big morbid doodle. This deeply personal and darkly magic poem reads like a collection of anxiety attacks woven into an ink-black universe. In a safe land of memories, where time stands still, Wilczyński finds all those dear to him still alive. Seemingly influenced by artists such as George Grosz, Jan Švankmajer, and Jiří Barta, he crafts a deliberately messy work of art that strangely feels both haunting and soothing. Here, personal past is intricately intertwined with universal existential fears. Has it stopped raining yet?










