The first scenes of The Cross (Krzyż) unfold in the aftermath of the 10 April 2010 Smolensk plane crash, which killed President Lech Kaczyński, his wife Maria, and 94 members of the Polish political and military elite. In the shock that followed, a symbolic wooden cross was erected outside the Presidential Palace on Krakowskie Przedmieście in Warsaw. Intended initially as a temporary memorial, the cross quickly became the centre of a heated national dispute.
What began as an improvised shrine transformed within weeks into a political and ideological battleground. Supporters of the late president, often aligned with nationalist and conservative groups, defended the cross as a sacred symbol of national mourning and Polish identity. Opponents argued that the public space in front of the Presidential Palace should not be turned into a partisan monument. The conflict intensified as daily gatherings, vigils and counter-protests unfolded throughout the summer of 2010.
Krzyż documents this transformation with an observational clarity: the street becoming an improvised stage where grief, faith, anger and political mobilisation merged. The camera captures the escalation from spontaneous mourning into a structured movement, with activists guarding the cross day and night, chanting prayers, singing hymns and confronting those who questioned the politicisation of the space. The Palace façade becomes a visual backdrop for competing visions of Poland—religious vs. secular, nationalist vs. liberal, conservative memory vs. pluralistic identity.
The film traces how the cross, originally placed as an expression of collective loss, evolved into a symbol weaponised by political actors. It documents the formation of “defenders of the cross,” clashes with counter-protesters, and the paralysis of city authorities caught between constitutional neutrality and escalating public pressure. When the cross was finally moved inside the Presidential Chapel in September 2010, the conflict did not end—it simply relocated into broader political discourse, feeding narratives of betrayal, martyrdom and cultural struggle that would shape Polish politics in the following decade.
Through long takes and direct encounters, Krzyż reveals how public space can be seized by emotionally charged symbols and how private grief can be reconfigured into collective mobilisation. The cross on Krakowskie Przedmieście became more than a memorial: it became a national mirror reflecting fear, identity, division and the deep fractures that continue to run through contemporary Poland.
