So Much From So Little: Reviving 180 Seconds of Life From 1938 Poland
We are, of course, preternaturally aware of the horrors that will soon be visited upon these children, their parents, and the surrounding community.

As its title makes plain, “Three Minutes: A Lengthening” is concerned with time: It is a 71-minute documentary about a 180-second film clip that was recorded on a summer’s day more than 80 years ago.
Anyone who has ever trawled through a vintage thrift shop will have come across a box or two of family photographs, ramshackle testaments to spontaneous gatherings or, as is often the case, formal occasions. Rifling through them, one can’t help but wonder about the people in the photos and why, in fact, these artifacts weren’t ultimately held dear. Their abandonment accrues a certain fascination; sadness, as well.
The fragment of film at the center of “Three Minutes: A Lengthening” wasn’t abandoned, but it was squirreled away for decades in Palm Beach Gardens, Florida. Writer Glenn Kurtz found it amongst his family’s possessions, and not a moment too soon: The film stock was close to disintegrating. Mr. Kurtz subsequently wrote about this discovery in “Three Minutes in Poland: Discovering a Lost World in a 1938 Family Film.” Having read the book, a Dutch journalist, Bianca Stigter, was moved to the point of putting together a film that would help “these people [to] stay present for a bit longer.”
Who are these people? They’re the citizens of the Jewish quarter of Nasielsk, Poland, a small town about 30 miles north of Warsaw. The original scrap of film is a home movie chronicling a vacation taken by Mr. Kurtz’s grandfather, David. Born in Poland, the elder Kurtz had emigrated to the United States as a child. Having achieved a degree of financial success as an adult, he took his wife on a tour of the cultural capitals of Europe. The stop in Poland was his return home.
The filming of Nasielsk is dominated and, often, thwarted by its populace. A motion picture camera, let alone one that filmed in color, was a novelty that generated significant curiosity. While attempting to document the architecture lining a picturesque thoroughfare, the camera’s vantage point is repeatedly interrupted by a crowd of children jumping, gesticulating, and otherwise being a nuisance.
We are, of course, preternaturally aware of the horrors that will soon be visited upon these children, their parents, and the surrounding community. Mr. Kurtz donated the original reel to the United States Holocaust Museum, whose staff employed digital means to restore the footage. Even so, the faded colors and grainy imagery don’t lend themselves to the ready identification of people or places. But that’s not to say that all of the film’s particulars have been lost to history.
A visitor to the Holocaust Museum recognized one of the rambunctious boys in the movie as her grandfather — his dumpling-like cheeks were, we are informed, an unmistakable family attribute. Ms. Stigter located the 90-something Maurice Chandler in Detroit, and his reminiscences of life in Nasielsk add humor and intimacy to the movie’s ghostly tenor.
“Three Minutes: A Lengthening” is a diverting feat of cinematic montage, not just clever but rigorous in its contours. Ms. Stigter has configured the original three-minute snippet — through cropping and focus, as well as variations in tempo — in a manner that both coincides with and deepens the narration by Helena Bonham Carter and some accompanying historical readings. The result is a poetic amalgam of historical elegy, tenacious detective work, and a reminder of just how much can be gleaned from the eye’s purview.