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There really is no other film quite like Possession. Its unwieldy and complicated plot is difficult to reduce to summary. It offers familiar genre markers—the horror film; spy thriller; monster movie—while defying the expectations of these genres at every turn. This chapter considers the challenges that approaching Possession poses. It contextualises the film within Polish cinema, Żuławski’s greater oeuvre, as well as in the horror landscape of the period more broadly. Finally, chapter one presents a brief overview of the terrain the remaining book will cover, underscoring Possession’s significance and longevity.

In the shadow of his marital breakdown, and his exile from Poland, Żuławski envisioned a story of a divided couple against the background of a divided city. Pitching to a potential financer, he announced that the film was about ‘a woman who fucks with an octopus,’ a conversation which raised him the two-million dollar budget required. And with that, Possession was spawned. Possession is a truly ‘transnational’ film; a Polish director’s only English-language film, shot in a partitioned Berlin setting, with a cast hailing from France, New Zealand, and Germany. Replete with tales of special effects legend Carlo Rimbaldi’s rushed construction of the tentacle monster, altercations on set resolved with death threats, and drunken stuntmen determined to do as much self-harm as possible, the film’s production history is almost as bizarre as the finished product. Chapter two provides an overview of the production process, including details about the screenplay, noteworthy crew, locations, and shoot.

Chapter three ventures up the spiral staircase, engaging in a critical analysis of the film by considering its themes, structure, and style. While Possession is resistant to any singular interpretation, better experienced than ‘explained,’ this chapter endeavours to explore key moments and motifs to enrich our appreciation. It considers the socio-political context of its divided Berlin setting, expressionist style, as well as the thematic tensions that help to elucidate the film: unity and division; private and public spaces; banality and extremity. This chapter takes as a guide, the pattern of the winding staircase, a recurring motif across Żuławski’s films, which the director held to have spiritual significance as a passage between worlds. Via its serpentine architecture, the spiral staircase provides an insight into the way Żuławski patterns his exploration of division and duality, the private and political.

Chapter four examines the film’s uncertain position between arthouse and grindhouse. Possession held the paradoxical position of being showcased at the world’s leading art cinema festival in competition for the illustrious Palme d’Or, and being included in the United Kingdom’s ‘video nasties,’ a list of ‘obscene’ or otherwise questionable films, mostly comprised of violent exploitation fare. The film underwent heavy cuts for the US release. In an attempt to capitalise on the film’s horror elements, almost a quarter of the original film was removed rendering an already enigmatic film utterly incomprehensible. Chapter four unpacks the fraught history of Possession’s conflicting status as art and trash, paying particular attention to the shift the film underwent upon its release on VHS–in terms of its marketing and reception outside of the festival circuit, its butchering for the US market, and its odd place amidst other notorious video nasties. It also takes a dive in the BBFC’s archival records on Possession, shedding new light on the film’s reception history.

Chapter five reflects on the place of Possession forty years after its release, considering the film’s reappreciation, resonance with new audiences, and influence on contemporary filmmakers. While poorly received upon its debut, Possession now has a cult following. In recent years, loving restorations and limited editions have helped to re-contextualise the film as a valuable piece of auteur cinema history, and cult cinema podcasts and retrospectives on Żuławski’s career have also been crucial to bringing Possession to the attention of new audiences. Notably, the film has also gained a substantial feminist following, with many women seeing in Anna a cathartic rebellion against the expectations of enculturated gender roles. Finally, chapter five considers the role Possession has played as a forerunner to the new norm of transgressive art-horror on the festival circuit and its influence on several contemporary filmmakers including Amat Escalante, Julia Ducournau, Buddy Giovinazzo and Gaspar Noé.