Nina Niovilla’s grave in Paris’s Batignolles Cemetery as a trace of Polish film heritage

Women’s Cinema Was not a Passing Fashion: It Was a Revolution.

Did women’s cinema begin in the 1980s? Was it only Agnès Varda, Chantal Akerman or Jane Campion who gave it direction? Perhaps. Yet before manifestos and strategies, before the term “female gaze” was coined, women directors at the turn of the nineteenth and twentieth century were already blazing trails and laying the foundations of a new cinematic language.

Among them was Alice Guy‑Blaché (1873–1968), a pioneer of French cinema, often credited as the first woman to direct a feature film. As early as 1896 she made “La Fée aux Choux” (“The Cabbage Fairy”) and later headed the Gaumont studio before establishing her own company in the United States. In parallel in the US was Lois Weber (1879–1939), author of socially engaged dramas such as “Hypocrites” (1915) and “The Blot” (1921), in which she tackled morality, poverty and social inequality, and used innovative means of cinematic expression for the purpose.

In Russia, documentary filmmaking was shaped in part by Esfir Shub (1894–1959), author of “The Fall of the Romanov Dynasty” (“Падение династии Романовых”, 1927), whose rhythmic editing influenced leading figures of the Soviet avant-garde. In France, Germaine Dulac (1882–1942), cinema theorist and director, gave form to a surrealist vision of female consciousness in “La Coquille et le Clergyman” (1928), a film combining symbolism with formal experimentation.

In Germany, Leontine Sagan (1889–1974) became renowned for her moving “Girls in Uniform” (“Mädchen in Uniform”, 1931), a film that was not only aesthetically groundbreaking but also morally daring: it depicted feelings between women within the claustrophobic confines of a conservative boarding school.

All this took place decades before the term “women’s cinema” entered common usage. Their work could sometimes appeal to a wider audience, yet it was often personal, independent and far from the mainstream. Remaining on the margins, it was there that new ways of seeing were shaped. Women’s cinema was never a fleeting trend; it was a revolution, the traces of which we are only now uncovering: bringing forgotten names to light, restoring memories and recognising these women as the creators of a language destined to sound different.

Who Was the First Woman behind the Camera in Poland?

In one of Paris’s lesser-known cemeteries lies a pioneer of Polish cinema: a woman who directed her first film even before Poland regained independence. She later wrote scripts, ran a film school, opened further branches and trained future stars; then she disappeared from history.

Antonina Elżbieta Petrykiewiczówna, later known as Nina Niovilla, was born on 27 January 1874 in Lwów (Lviv in present-day Ukraine), the daughter of Antoni Petrykiewicz, a clerk at the Galician Credit Bank, and Apolonia née Nyczaj. Her biography was carefully reconstructed by Marek Teler in his article “Nina Niovilla: The Forgotten Mother of Polish Cinematography?”, from which most of the biographical information here is drawn. She received a thorough education at the Teaching Institute of the Nuns of the Sacred Heart of Jesus in Lwów. From an early age she displayed exceptional musical ability; after completing her primary education, she travelled to Italy to continue her vocal studies. From 1894 she trained in Milan under well-known pedagogues, including singer Francesco Mottino and composer Cesare Rossi. At that time she adopted the artistic pseudonym “Nina Niovilla”, which she retained for the rest of her life. She made her operatic debut in 1896 in Abbiategrasso, performing the role of Oscar in Giuseppe Verdi’s “Un ballo in Maschera” (“Masked Ball”).

She returned to Lwów in 1903. At the beginning of the twentieth century, she appeared at the Lwów City Theatre and the Lwów Operetta. At the same time she began translating plays from Italian, French and English: both classics and contemporary works. In 1905 she published her own drama “O świcie” (“At Dawn”), inspired by the legend of Popiel and Kruszwica. Two years later, on 25 October 1906, she gave birth to a daughter, Ludwika Janina. She became a single mother, which at the time exposed her to social condemnation; to protect appearances, she implied that her daughter was born to a formal marriage, a fiction even reflected in later documents.

In the following years she moved to Warsaw, continuing her translation work for the stage. Around 1910 she began regular artistic and educational trips to Berlin and Vienna, where, as she later recalled in an interview, she trained as a film director. It was there, influenced by the new art of the moving image, that she first became interested in cinema as a form of artistic expression.

During the First World War, she supported herself mainly through acting and singing, performing in Warsaw and Berlin. It was in Berlin, in 1918, under the pseudonym Nina von Petry, that she made her first film “Die Heiratsannonce” (“Matrimonial Announcements”), now regarded as her first step into feature cinema.

Between 1919 and 1923, Nina Niovilla experienced the most intense and creative period of her career, becoming one of the most active women in Polish cinematography. Only a year after Poland regained independence, she returned from Berlin to Warsaw with a clear vision: to create a cinema that would serve as both a vehicle for a new national identity and a tool for civic and artistic education.

In 1919 she founded the Warsaw School of Stage-Film Acting, the first institution in Poland to train actors not only for the theatre but above all for the new medium: cinema. The school offered training in diction, movement, make-up and, most importantly, film acting, which, as Niovilla emphasised, differed from theatrical acting in emotional scale, intensity of gaze and physical discipline before the camera. Her method was founded on psychological authenticity and the conscious use of facial expressions, making her one of the pioneers of a realistic style of screen acting in Poland.

The school expanded rapidly: branches were opened in Wilno (Vilnius in modern-day Lithuania), Łódź, Lwów and Poznań. It was staffed by practitioners and theorists; among its students were future stars such as Aleksander Żabczyński, later an icon of pre-war cinema, and Alexandra Sorina, who went on to achieve success in German and French silent film. Niovilla ran the school with complete dedication; she organised the curriculum, personally taught classes and supervised the production of rehearsal films and stage performances.

Alongside her teaching, she directed feature films from her own scripts, often based on patriotic themes or literary works. Her Polish directorial debut was “Tamara” (1919), also known as “Obrońcy Lwowa” (“Defenders of Lwów”): a patriotic drama depicting the battles for the city during the Polish-Ukrainian War. Niovilla made it with a clear documentary and educational aim: she commemoraed the events of November 1918, which placed her among the first Polish directors to produce politically engaged cinema.

Her next film, “Czaty” (“The Lurkers”, 1920), was an adaptation of a ballad by Adam Mickiewicz. This intimate drama, set in a mountain hut, conveyed an atmosphere of horror and moral tension. In it, Niovilla demonstrated a keen sense of rhythm and mood, while attempting to translate Romantic poetry into the language of cinema; an innovative gesture at a time when formulaic melodramas still dominated the screen.

In 1921, Niovilla completed her third film, “Idziem do ciebie, Polsko, matko nasza” (“Going to You, Poland, Our Mother”), a historical-symbolic drama devoted to the national uprisings and the sacrifices made for the freedom of the homeland. The film combined elements of chronicle, allegory and pathos; while it may appear archaic today, at the time it was received as a manifesto of the generation that had fought for independence.

The peak of her filmmaking career came in 1923 with “Młodość zwycięża” (“Youth Prevails”), a melodrama about young love, social obstacles and strength of character. Produced at the Nina Niovilla-Film Studio, which she had founded in Mazowiecka Street in Warsaw, it was her most mature project: she oversaw the script, direction, production and casting. Reviewers praised the film for “a beautiful script, great direction, consummate acting”; although one critic wryly remarked that “there is a bit too much kissing in the film”, there was no doubt that a skilled, self-assured and independent auteur stood behind the camera.

This intense creative period, however, came to an abrupt end; not for artistic reasons, but due to a scandal: an alleged fraud would cast a long shadow over Niovilla’s life... 

“Youth Prevails”, but the Cinema Remains Silent

Nina Niovilla was an extraordinary figure: the first woman in Poland to stand behind the camera, at a time when women did not yet enjoy full voting rights. Her cinema, as Agata Frymus notes, was distinguished by its “conscious method” and psychological narrative, while reviewers praised her “methodical approach” and “knowledge of the craft”. She worked in a spirit of independence, combining a patriotic message with personal sensitivity.

Her career, however, was abruptly interrupted. In the early 1920s she entered into a partnership with Jan Czesław Sikorowicz, a shrewd but dishonest impresario posing as a patron of the arts. Under the pretext of establishing a branch of her film school in Kraków, he opened his own institution; he issued promissory notes, forged signatures and collected fees from students who never received certificates or access to classes. Lawsuits followed, along with press reports and warnings in the “Kurier Warszawski” and the “Express Poranny”. Niovilla was drawn into a financial scandal of which she was not the instigator, yet it tarnished her reputation irreperably.

Although she tried to defend her good name, including by publishing corrections and explanations in the press, the damage proved irreparable. The schools closed, students left and she came to be seen as a controversial figure. Throughout the 1930s she lived in the shadow of her former fame, supporting herself with occasional work as a proofreader, translator and private diction teacher. She did not direct films, did not write scripts, and her name appeared ever more rarely in public discourse.

The war found her in Warsaw. In 1940 she was evicted from her flat on Filtrowa Street and moved to an apartment requisitioned by the Germans at 32 Rozbrat Street, where she was employed as a maid. The woman who had once trained the elite of the Polish film world now cleaned and cooked for the occupiers.

After the outbreak of the Warsaw Rising she was taken to the transit camp in Pruszków, and from there probably to a German labour camp. Her wartime life is not precisely documented, but family accounts state that she returned to Warsaw in 1945 in poor physical and mental health.

It was only in 1946, thanks to the intervention and care of her daughter Ludwika and son-in-law Zygmunt Karaffa, that she was able to leave for France. She settled in Paris, on rue Blanche, in a modest flat. She lived in isolation, taking no part in artistic circles or émigré life.

She died on 4 February 1966, forgotten by the film community with which she had once been closely associated. For many years, her grave in the Batignolles Cemetery went unvisited and unmentioned in guidebooks.

Polish Artist Buried under a Parisian Sky

The Batignolles Cemetery in Paris, at 22 rue Saint-Just, is the resting place of many artists, but only one grave is linked to Poland’s cinematic heritage. Grave no. 26 in plot 30 contains the remains of Nina Niovilla (d. 1966), her daughter Ludwika Petrykiewiczówna (d. 1993) and her son-in-law Zygmunt Karaffa (d. 1964), a Polish Army officer and radio engineering specialist.

The tombstone is made of light grey granite it takes the form of an earthen mound enclosed by a curb and surmounted with a Maltese cross, set on a quadrilateral plinth. The cross finial bears a relief of three military decorations: the Cross of Valour (Poland) on the left, the Croix de Guerre with two stars (France) in the centre and the Médaille commémorative de la guerre 1939–1945 with the Lorraine Cross (France) on the right.

On the vertical arm of the cross is an inscription commemorating Zygmunt Karaffa:

LE COL. ING. ZYGMUNT KARAFFA / DE L'ARMÉE POLONAISE / VARSOVIE 15 AVRIL 1894 / PARIS 25 AVRIL 1964

(Translation: Col. Eng. Zygmunt Karaffa, of the Polish Army, Warsaw 15 April 1894 – Paris 25 April 1964)

On the pedestal below the cross is a separate inscription dedicated to Antonina Petrykiewicz, buried in the same grave:

ANTOINETTE PETRYKIEWICZ / DITE NINA NIOVILLA / LVOV 1874 – PARIS 1966

(Translation: Antonina Petrykiewicz, known as Nina Niovilla, Lwów 1874 – Paris 1966)

The tombstone is modest, without elaborate carving or ornate inscriptions; its simplicity stands in contrast to the scale of the achievements of its first occupant. Today, the bronze plaque with the three names is among the very few tangible traces of a director whose films have not survived.