Culture and Politics of The Decalogue

In order to comprehend and interpret The Decalogue more accurately and intricately, one needs to understand the background and environment from which it was created. It is obvious that Kieslowski is most interested in telling a universal tale, of delving into the ethics of humanity rather than pigeon-hole the films by narrowing the focus on Poland or even Eastern Europe. He wants to resonate on a global scale, invoking conversation and theorizing from wherever humans strive for philosophical, moral, and theological realization. His goals are to portray the Ten Commandments as they relate to a generation more than a particular society. That being said, it is impossible to un-marry The Decalogue from the perspective from which it was told. Therefore, a careful analysis of the culture of late 1980’s Poland should provide further insight into these films; in turn, there is also much to be ascertained about Polish culture from the films.

            In his excellent article “Decalogue: Poland’s Cinema of Collision” Reni Celeste writes about how The Decalogue came at an important moment for Polish art. He writes that the films were made “one year after the 1987 Film Law abolished state censorship and relinquished state control over film production” and one year before the fall of Communism. Therefore, the films represent the ending of an era and the ushering in of another. Therefore, it can be posited that The Decalogue has its roots in Cold War-era Communist oppression while looking forward to a once-idealized, now-realized freedom. Kieslowski is rarely interested in politics, however, focusing much more on ethics and emotion. But more to the point of politics is the nature of the struggle and turmoil within Poland at the time. Oftentimes great art comes from strife and such is the case here.

            Poland is a conglomeration of many different ethnicities that have differing politics, cultural practices and tendencies, and religions. There is no unified, predominant point-of-view. Additionally, Poland’s geography facilitates conflict. It is an open field, basically, without a natural barrier to protect it. Thus, it has often served as the point of “collision between the competing Eastern and Western European civilizations” (Celeste). Poland has served not only as a battlefield, but also as a place of concentration camps and other historic tragedies. Through it all, however, Poland has stood for a remarkable 1000 years. The conflict in 1988 was perhaps between a people fighting for freedom and a government desperate to maintain control. Kieslowski stands between the two in this regard, earning his stripes working for the state-controlled cinema while trying to communicate his message with society. The dissolving of state-censored cinema surely freed Kieslowski to unabashedly tell the story that burned from within instead of the story that could rest inside the parameters and imagination of the censors.

            It is interesting, then, to see how Kieslowski treats the Law of God and the conflict of the people called to maintain it. Celeste describes: “The law emerges in a realm of duplicity and multiplicity and insists on singularity” (Celeste). There is a subtlety that he employs that gives an impression of impartiality, but the truth is ever-boiling under the surface. He broaches each law as though it were a philosophical and ethical treatise instead of a black-or-white penal code. But he also does not preach or reduce the films into parables. He understands the complexity and mystery found in the Word and therefore does not pretend to impossibly have resolute answers, pious judgment, or divine knowledge. But he does tackle what he can; in particular, we glimpse an actor who possibly conveys God, but we do not receive insight into his perspective or thoughts. Celeste writes that Kieslowski successfully shows the confluence of a sinful people and a righteous law: “It is… here that tragedy and ethics reveal their complicity when action and its consequences expose the horror of freedom and responsibility” (Celeste). As a viewer and a part of creation, we witness the grand drama of God as it unfolds on a people who are by nature in direct opposition to his Truth. Kieslowski ultimately incorporates his experience of struggle and tragedy to tell a story that resonates on a deep level of humanity with all who experience The Decalogue. He bears witness to the tragedy found in rebellion to the Law of God.

Cohesion in the Decalogue

       Though each of the episodes of the Decalogue, were very different stories, and seemed entirely separate from one another, director, Krzysztof Kieslowski, used many techniques to connect them all together. I noticed some of them on my own, but I discovered some of the others while reading Mario Sesti’s article on the The Decalogue 1-10 in The Hidden God: Film and Faith. This book is a compilation by the Museum of Modern Art of 50 essays written by 35 various writers about the more or less religious themes in over 50 various, international films. 

The first of Kieslowski’s cohesion techniques that one that I noticed was the use of the same setting for every episode. This may be because it is one of the more easily recognized ones. As previously mentioned in several blog posts, the setting was a dark, gloomy, Warsaw apartment complex. Towards the later episodes one may recognize this, and that each main character of the previous episodes has a strong connection to the complex. 

The weather was generally the same throughout most of the episodes: cold, foggy, cloudy, rainy, and gloomy. Though it is usually cooler in Poland, the constant fog and cloudiness is unrealistic of Polish weather. Like that of most other countries, Poland’s weather varies highly, and may be cloudy one day, yet sunny the next. I believe that Kieslowski used this as another method of bringing cohesiveness to the Decalogue as a whole. It helped set the mood. 

The biggest technique he used (that I cannot believe I see myself in its entirety until reading Sesti’s essay) was to intermittently include a character played by Artur Barcis in 8 of the 10 episodes. The only 2 episodes he does not appear in are 7 and 10, and that was only because Kieslowski did not like the way the shots of him turned out for these episodes. According to Sesti, Barcis’ character is an “angelic presence that never interferes with action”. There are times where he looks directly into the camera. The viewer is unable to identify with him, because “his presence suggests the inflexibility of fate and the vulnerability of every individual.” (Sesti 184) I think Kieslowski’s use of Artur Barcis’ character was very clever use of a rarely used cohesion technique. 

A smaller, more ambiguous technique Kieslowski used was cross referencing. An example was having a character from episode 8 tell the plot of episode 2 to another character to move the storyline of that episode along. Later, a character in episode 10 makes a very brief appearance in episode 8. The main characters of episode 2 appear transiently in episode 5. And the list of cross references goes on. According to Sesti, Kieslowski did this to “weave the single episodes into an overall tapestry”. 

Episode X - Thou shalt not covet

The Dekalog series finishes on a different note with episode 10 which tackles the tenth commandment: thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's goods. This episode follows the story of two brothers, Jerzy and Artur, who inherit a stamp collection when their estranged father dies. The collection ends up being worth a fortune but the brothers soon find themselves deep in the heart of the stamp collecting underworld. When they are robbed, the brothers learn that familial relationships are worth more than anything bought with money.

                                        Photo from: cultprojections.com

Only Kieslowski's talented filmmaking could change the tone of an episode and still have it fit with the series as a whole. The tone of this episode is more humorous than the preceding 9; but of course the humor is dark humor, I believe it is a stretch to call this episode a commedy. A great deal of the commedy arises from the extreme differences between the brothers. Jerzy is an unemployed middle-class family man while his younger brother Artur is the destitute lead singer of a rock band. Kieslowski artfully highlights these differences in the opening sequence where Jerzy is at his brother's concert. A strobe light helps the viewer feel as disoriented as Jerzy while the jump cuts between the brothers point out the differences, and the similarities, between the brothers. While they are completely different people, the skillful acting makes it very easy to believe they are related. Comedic genius is made incarnate in the form of a Great Dane guard dog who keeps the brothers on their toes and is eventually switched to allow the crooks to rob the brothers dry. The very idea of a stamp collecting underworld makes you both think and laugh, without knowing which is the correct response.

This episode is grittier and less polished than the preceding 9 episodes. The diegetic world is much less polished which illustrates the faithlessness of the Polish people as their communist government was meeting its end. This episode aired on June 24, 1989 (imdb.com). To put things into context (, the Berlin Wall did not fall until November 9 of the same year. However, Poland was one of the first Eastern European communist governments to fall. Their "semi-free" elections were held on June 4, 1989; a mere 20 days before this episode was aired (news.bbc.co.uk). The changing world and tone in the episode mirrors what was happening in the world surrounding the making of this episode. The dark tone in this episode is certainly not an accident. Jerzy's young son is cheated out of a few of his grandfather's stamps. Later, after being robbed, both brothers implicate each other to the police. Although that is resolved in the last scene, the tougher greedier people prevail in this episode. The stamps are never found and justice does not prevail. This dark side has been preposed as a reason the compassionate witness did not make an appearance in this episode. However, there still is a collection to the other episodes. Jerzy and Artur's father is the neighbor of Zofia, the ethics professor from episode 8.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/country_profiles/1054724.stm
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0094983/

Episode 9- Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife

The ninth episode of The Decalogue by Kieslowski represents the commandment, “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife.”  Unlike many of the previous episodes, this episode deals with this specific commandment first hand.  Kieslowski used a married couple as the main characters, but brought in a few outside characters to represent the coveting which was present throughout this film.  At the beginning of the film, the main character Roman discovers he is impotent.  He and his wife, Hanka, talk about this issue, and he realizes that his wife should take on an outside lover to satisfy her sexual needs.  However, she rebukes that idea, remaining faithful to Roman.  Throughout the film, Roman discovers that Hanka has actually taken on a secret lover.  Although Roman wished that for her in the beginning, he becomes jealous and hurt from this affair.  Hanka eventually breaks off the affair, but Roman was not aware of this, and consequently made an attempt at suicide.  After surviving that attempt, he learns that Hanka truly broke off the affair and realizes her love for him.

Throughout the film there are many visual tropes and cinematic devices that add to the suspense and meaning of the film.  First, there is one visual trope of a man riding a bike towards the beginning of the episode.  During one scene, after Roman learns he is impotent, he drives off the road due to his frustration with the issue.  The man on the bike rides by looking at Roman, yet continues to walk away.  During another scene towards the end of the movie, Roman drives his bike off a cliff, concluding his attempt at suicide.  The camera shows Roman lying there on the ground unconscious.  Then it shows the same man we saw before, riding his bike.  He looked down at Roman, yet continued to ride by.  This man on the bike can symbolize many things.  He can represent the undying issue at hand that simply will not go away (Roman’s impotency); he can represent the fact that Roman just has to let go of this issue and “ride away” or get over his problems; or he could simply represent the constant intruding of the man that is interfering Roman and Hanka’s relationship (the man that Hanka is having an affair with).  Regardless of the meaning, Kieslowski used this man on the bike to represent a visual trope throughout this particular episode.

Another visual trope that occurs many times throughout the film is the glove box in Roman’s car.  Many times, when the scene is depicting a serious contemplative moment, the glove box pops open.  There were also scenes where the glove box would not shut after a few attempts at shutting it.  This is a visual trope because it not only occurs during those specific moments throughout the film, but also because it is trying to convey an important message.  This message was not particularly clear, but it was clear that it was meant to be portrayed as a symbol.

Also throughout the film were many cases of cinematic devices that added to the message of the film.  Kieslowski used specific camera work in order to carry out and highlight specific scenes that are important for the dramatic story.  For example, one scene depicts a conversation between Roman and Hanka.  During the scene, the camera is focused on Hanka’s face, and the viewer can see Roman’s blurry back.  However, the camera is also focused on a mirror directly behind Hanka which allows to viewer to see Roman’s face reflected through the mirror.  This specific cinematic device not only allows the viewer to see both faces throughout the conversation, but it allows us to recognize their facial expressions as they carry out their conversation.  This is important to the film because it contributes to the emotional effect it has on the characters, in turn pulling the viewers closer to the plot and message of the film.

This episode particularly concerns the issue of coveting thy neighbor’s wife, which is exactly what the title of the episode portrays.  Although the viewer would think that the plot would be concern Roman coveting another man’s wife, this is not so.  The main plot focuses around the fact that another man is coveting his own wife.  Kieslowski uses a specific narrative pattern that allows to viewer to see the plot through the husband’s eyes; through the eyes of the man that is being cheated on.  This creates emotional opinions for the viewer.  It allows the viewer to pity Roman, and to feel bad for what is happening to him.  Although Kieslowski takes a different turn to the commandment of coveting thy neighbor’s wife, I think he succeeded in portraying his message.

Episode VIII- You shall not give false testimony against your neighbor

            Part VIII of Krzysztof Kieslowski’s Decalogue, titled “You shall not give false testimony against your neighbor” does not follow Kieslowski’s usual trend of not directly illustrating the commandment referenced in the title of the episode. The messages of parts I-VII have been more subliminal than explicit. Part VIII, however, was not as difficult to match with its commandment. Though the entire episode is not about lies and deceit, the plot stems from an earlier occurrence of a woman’s refusal to lie. The way the storyline plays out makes it seem as though Kieslowski is saying that it is okay, justifiable, and even necessary to lie sometimes, rather than saying that lying is something everyone should stay far away from.

            Zofia, a Polish ethics professor, is visited at school one day by a professional acquaintance, a Jew named Elzbieta. Elzbieta asks to sit in on one of Zofia’s lectures, and Zofia more than happily agrees. During the lecture, Elzbieta tells a story that really hits home with Zofia. Unbeknownst to the students in the class, it is the story of their first encounter. Elzbieta was only 6 years old at the time, afraid for her life, and hiding from the Gestapo. Elzbieta was being moved from her hiding place to move in with Zofia and her husband, who were part of the Zegota, the Polish underground. After meeting Elzbieta, Zofia informs her that because of her and her husband’s devout Catholic faith, they are no longer willing to hide Elzbieta because it would require them to lie to the government. Elzbieta leaves right before curfew, and the two do not meet again until that fateful day at the university. The encounter haunts both of them their entire lives.

            In the beginning of the film, Zofia tells her students that “nothing is more precious than the life of a child”. That quote sticks in the mind of the viewer for the remainder of the film as you are forced to question how Zofia could believe that after what we find out she did to Elzbieta. The episode is mainly about forgiveness, reconciliation, and closure.

            These three elements are higlighted in the diegesis of the film. While most of the other parts in the series are more dark and gloomy, Episode VIII is one that begins and ends with sunshine, nice weather, and even birds singing. Out of the 5 parts I watched, this is the first time I have seen bright lighting and the use of happier, more peaceful music. I believe this change represents the fact that there is still a possibility for good after sin.

            I noticed a few things in this episode that connected it to the others. The first and most evident was a story told by a student in the first 5 minutes of the film. The story was the plot line of the Decalogue’s part II. I thought this was a very interesting technique used by Kieslowski to draw the films together. Another technique I noticed was that Kieslowski used the same setting for all 10 parts: a cramped Warsaw apartment.

            After it aired in 1988, the film gained a reputation as one of the best and most important in the whole series. This does not surprise me at all, as it was my favorite as well. As I mentioned earlier, Episode VIII is one that actually gave the viewer hope that wrongs could eventually be made right. 

Zofia and Elzbieta in the middle of a very serious conversation

Episode VII- You Shall Not Steal

As we progress through this series of films by Krzysztof Kieslowski, his mastery of pace, lighting, and character development become increasingly evident. Episode VII continues to show his powerful storytelling techniques. He uses several tropes to really rope us into the emotion and conflicted nature of the characters in this film.

This episode revolves around a small family of four: Majka, Ania, Ewa, and Stefan. Each character is developed rapidly, yet thoroughly in ~60 minutes. Majka is the central character, initially Ania's sister, but later revealed to be her mother. Ewa is the overprotective mother of both girls, who later is revealed to be Ania's grandmother. Stefan is depicted as the rather aloof father figure in the film, as he seems to tune out the noise created by the three women in his life by tinkering with a pipe organ.

Kieslowski uses a rather quick pace in this film to relay a lot of information quickly about his characters, but not so that it feels hurried. The pace is a wonderful balancing act, allowing us to glean the necessary information and at the same time develop a connection to the characters.

An auditory trope that is essential to the plot is the sound of little Ania crying in the middle of the night due to nightmares. Majka's lack of confidence in waking and consoling Ania is one of the factors that lends to the thought that perhaps Ania would be better off with Ewa. There is a definite rift between Majka and Ewa as the two compete for the "real mom" title.

This rift is the catalyst for the Majka's kidnapping of Ania. She is portrayed as a thief, but a kind of good thief. She takes Ania to a carousel immediately after kidnapping her, and initially one might think she's simply playing a prank on her mother, intending to return once she's had her fun. We quickly realize that's not the case as she attempts to reconnect with Ania's father and start anew with him. When this doesn't pan out, she attempts to flee to Canada.

Majka's theft of Ania is a sort of punishment for her mother. Majka felt as though she had been robbed of motherhood by her own mother. In a sense, she was merely restoring what had been taken from her in the first place. It is this powerful sense of restoration that makes the kidnapping seem justified. However, Ewa truly loves Ania and wants the best for her, so we are torn between who deserves her. The situation is evocative of the two women before King Solomon in the Bible.

Kieslowski has Ania caressing, holding, and sleeping on her "new" mother. This trope is carried throughout the film and is crucial to the last sequence. When Majka realizes that she has failed to escape from her mother with Ania, she makes a rash decision to board the train and flee by herself. The sequence at the train depot uses a variety of shot compositions and various angles to draw us into the emotion of these final moments. When Majka chooses to leave, I believe she is kidnapping herself, in a sense. Majka commits the greatest theft of all, robbing her daughter of her true mother.

Episode 6: Thou shalt not commit adultery

Continuing our journey of viewing the Decalogue series, we reach Decalogue VI, in which Kieslowski discusses the commandment "Thou shalt not commit adultery." Tomek is a nine-teen year old orphan who lives with the mother of a friends and works at a local post office. He has been observing and spying on Magda, a woman in her thirties. Magda lives in the building right next to Tomek and he spies on her in the evenings with his telescope. Tomek is always trying to find ways to see Magda. He sends her false notices from the post office so she will have to come down there. He calls her frequently when spying on her just to hear her voice. Even when Magda has her boyfriend over her apartment, Tomek reports gas leaks to ruin their evenings. Tomek eventually gets a job as a milk man just to see her. Tomek eventually tells Magda he is spying on her and she first does not believe it but sees that it is true and becomes angry. Tomek gets punched in the face by Magda’s boyfriend because he was spying. The next day when replacing Magda’s milk, Tomek claims to love Magda and wants nothing from her, but eventually asks her out to a café for ice cream and she accepts. Tomek is very excited, runs around outside with his milk cart with joy, and accidently bumps into this mysterious man the reoccurs throughout the Decalogue series. “The mystery character often appears in Decalogue at important moments like this, where a choice can truly alter the course of the future” (http://www.damaris.org/content/content.php?type=5&id=716). They go out for ice cream and talk and go back to Magda’s place. Magda claims to show Tomek what love is really about and causes him to ejaculate early by just placing his hand on her legs. Tomek runs out of her apartment and crosses paths with the mystery man again. His view of love has now been altered and crushed and he seems to want no part of it. Magda however sees that his love was genuine and discovers a side of love that she hasn’t seen before. Magda wants Tomek to come back but Tomek has slit his wrists. Magda’s feelings for Tomek grow as she waits for his return from the hospital. Magda eventually runs into Tomek at the post office again and Tomek tells her that he is no longer spying.

          Viewing Decalogue VI made me see how altered the meaning of love has become in society. Tomek and Magda really need to reflect on what it really means to love someone because both of their views, whether it be spying on someone or just engaging in sexual relations, were blinding them to see what it really is. Even though the film does not deal with adultery relating to sexual relations with another’s persons husband or wife, the film displays adultery in a way of lust, which was evident throughout the film. “Adultery is forbidden because humans were created to enjoy love on a much deeper level with one person in a covenantal relationship. It is for this reason that Jesus broadens the definition of adultery in Matthew’s Gospel to include lust towards another person” (http://www.damaris.org/content/content.php?type=5&id=728).

Episode 5- Thou Shalt Not Kill

Part V of Krzysztof Kieslowski’s masterful Decalogue focuses on the 5th commandment, which reads in the King James Bible, “Thou shalt not kill.” This chapter is easily the most intense and leaves an indelible impression on the viewer.  The viewer is presented with three characters: a taxi driver on a power trip; a young man who mischievously roams around Warsaw; and a lawyer who has recently passed the bar exam. The taxi driver is a man who has fallen into corruption, albeit relatively harmless corruption. He leers at young women and drives away from potential fares for reasons known only to him. He is not an evil man per se, but represents a humanity that has fallen from grace.

The lawyer, on the other hand, is a clear representation of idealism. He truly believes that things can be better and that he can make a positive impact on his surrounding society. The troubled young man perhaps is the one that swings (dramatically) from the extremes of evil and innocence. One moment he is dropping rocks onto cars from an overpass. The next moment he is pausing to look at a portrait of a young girl. There is an inner struggle within this young man. He is drawn to mischief and evil but is equally drawn to innocence. Emotionally, he is like a toddler.

His naivete is on display in the photography store where he inquires about blowing up an old photograph of a young woman and asking the clerk with sincerity whether it possible to determine if someone was alive from a photograph. The clerk laughs it off, but this is a glimpse into this young man. Here is a person who has been emotionally stunted possibly from abandonment and was clearly never raised by a mother who taught him how to control the evil inside him. The taxi driver is a good example of someone who has succumbed to evil, but only displays just enough to never really get into trouble. He can control his evil. The young man, however, has no such filter. He has no societal concern whatsoever.

The inner struggle comes to a head when the young man murders the taxi driver then turns on the car stereo. Immediately after allowing evil to prevail, the man is confronted with sheer innocence in the form of a kids song. The lyrics even cut to his quick, singing about a brave lion, and he rips the stereo out of the car and throws it into a mud puddle. The image of the stereo in the puddle lingers, leading one to surmise that this is the man discarding his innocence once and for all.

The lawyer may, in fact, be a voice of God from within the film. Because of His love, God has given humankind free will, allowing for the choice of sin. God is morally opposed to sin; God and evil and two utterly disparate entities. God is necessarily and essentially good and does not create evil. Therefore, when the lawyer exclaims, “I abhor it!” over and over again at the end of the film, this is perhaps how God feels. Stephen Innes in his article on Culturewatch: Decalogue, agrees. He writes that the lawyer’s “anguish is a reflection of the anguish of God. God abhors murder, thus the commandment was given which prohibits it.” God’s desire is for humans to follow Him and grow closer to Him in a relationship forged through guidance found in Scripture and His heart breaks for all that choose evil over good.

Kieslowski demonstrates an amazing control of tone, timing, and visual spacing. The tone is pitch-perfect. He establishes realism without sacrificing feeling. There is an ever-present undercurrent of tension that affords an uneasiness that assists in furthering his message. The pacing and editing brilliantly establish an unsettled realism. The best examples are the two death scenes. The murder of the taxi driver has all the uncomfortableness of a Coen Brothers murder scene without the flash. Kieslowski uses long cuts, adds a cyclist riding by, and a body that won’t die as devices to add to the viewer’s unease. It works. Everyone should feel uncomfortable at these moments. Murder is simply outside the way God intends things to be. Innes rightly points out that there is also a cold emptiness in the killing. This is not a Hollywood death scene glamorized and masochistic. Innes continues by adding that there is no emotional build-up or dramatic catharsis to help the viewer prepare or deal with the killings. Killing is not thrilling; it is chilling.

Christianity Within the Decalogue Series

I found that in the Decologue films, there is a general pattern of the committing of a sin, confession of that sin, and forgiveness and reconciliation.  Although this saving grace is depicted through the people whom the issue involves in each film, there are many accounts of symbolizing Jesus.  In the Christian faith, Jesus is the savior.  He saves the people from all of their sins, as long as they “take up their cross” and follow Him.  In each film, there are depictions of this.  There are multiple accounts of a “savior” that is forgiving the sinner.  The link at the bottom of this post provides many examples from different episodes of The Decalogue series that support this idea.  Specifically, “this redemptive pattern is easily recognized in the ultimately fruitful struggle of Dorota in Decalogue Two to reconcile with her husband; in the final confessions and reconciliations between the unfaithful husband and his wife in Three; and in the healing confession and reconciliation between the daughter and her father in the conclusion of Four.”  Those are only examples from the first four episodes, however it provides an insight on the way Kieslowski utilized this pattern throughout his work.

More specifically, there are several accounts of references to God and Jesus, an assumed Christian-like love, and examples of the saving grace of Jesus Christ throughout the Decalogue series, even though they may not be obvious.  In Christianity, the Christian community is “in favor of the building up of that community which is the Mystical Body of Christ,” and “in favor of the breaking down of the barriers of egoism, fear, sinfulness, between people that destroy that Body.”  Throughout the Decalogue episodes discussed so far, Kieslowski seems to investigate this certain theme of a new created community and a communion through self-isolation and diversity.  

Although it is sometimes difficult to see the Christian reference or the commandment that is supposed to be the point of each episode, this article truly points out those specific examples that we don’t originally see.  It points out the Christian references that we could understand if we simply delved into the episodes more and applied Christian thoughts to. 

http://www.signis.net/IMG/pdf/Kieslowski_Lloyd_Baugh_en.pdf 

The setting of the episodes in the Dekalog have really stood out to me. Each episode of the Dekalog is set in a dark, gray, gloomy Communist-era Polish housing development. To me, a western viewer, this setting seems very realistic. However, upon more research and examination the setting appears over simplified. Kieslowski as a documentary filmmaker native to Poland would have been able to create a true representation of realistic every-day life in Poland. Instead, he very intentionally chose this over-simplified route. He wrote in his autobiography "Kieslowski on Kieslowski"  that he "attempted to show individuals in difficult situations. All the contextual social difficulties, or difficulties of everyday life, remained somewhere in the background."

                                               Photo from: whitecitycinema.com
Kieslowski's autobiography can be found at http://www.amazon.com/Kieslowski-Krzysztof/dp/0571173284/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1332202162&sr=1-1

Episode 4: Honor Thy Father and Mother

                                    Photo from: filmsufi.blogspot.com
In the fourth episode of the Decalogue series, Kieslowski tackles the fifth commandment: thou shalt honor thy father and mother. We see that Kieslowski is continuing in the same manner as the previous three films; he is not addressing the commandments literally from the view of Christianity but rather through a different possible alternative meaning to God's commandment. In this episode, that possible interpretation shifts the focus of the episode from honoring parents to incest. Twenty year old Anka is being raised by her father since her mother's death when she was 5 days old. When her father, Michal,  is away on a business trip, she discovers an envelope labeled "to be opened after my death". Upon opening the letter, she finds another sealed envelope inside addressed to her in her mother's handwriting. The melodramatic scene showing her reading the letter has been left out contrary to what we would expect from Hollywood conventions. She seemingly recites the letter to her father at his arrival and says that he is not her biological father. Anka now feels safe admitting that she suffers from incestuous desires and believes that Michal reciprocates. He does admit to it but does not give in when she tries to seduce him. When she awakes the next morning, she sees Michal walking away from the house. She runs outside believing he is abandoning her and admits to forging the letter before learning he was on his way to buy milk. The real letter has not even been opened. The absence of that scene  works its magic in another capacity - we now know why the scene was left out and can make our own discoveries. The episode ends with them burning the unopened letter together, never to know the contents. This ending may seem like a disappointment but it fits with the episode's handling of human imperfections. The choice to never know the contents of the letter is cowardly but it is perfectly human - many would take this easy way out. Throughout the episode, Kieslowski does not shy away from showing the human imperfections of his characters. Make no mistake, this is not a Hollywood style film with a fairy-tale setting and happily-ever-after ending. The use of little dialogue draws the viewer into the story by using body language and facial expressions to show the carnal side of the human experience. Everything is not handed down on a narrative platter. The emotions are real; Anka does not cry daintily, she sobs realistically. Some scenes may seem to be held for a beat too long but they cause you to feel uncomfortable, to think. The entire episode causes you to think and evaluate the way you perceive the ten commandments and the world around you. As Anka says in the episode, we must learn to read between the lines.

Episode 3: Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy

The third episode of The Decalogue by Kieslowski represents the commandment, “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.”  Although this film doesn’t seem to be based off this specific commandment on the surface, Kieslowski delicately painted the picture of the Sabbath day through Christmas Eve.  He used a specific visual trope in the beginning of the film: Santa Claus.  Throughout this scene, Santa was distributing gifts to the children and having a “jolly” time with a family.  This visual trope not only allows the viewer to be drawn in to the Christmas mood, but it allowed a vessel into the tightness of that particular family.  However, this is where the film takes a slightly different turn.  Ewa, a woman that has had a past with the father of this family, Edward, began an unfortunate series of lies in order to lull Edward out of the house to spend Christmas Eve with her.  Together, they become consumed with lies, tension, and hate as they spend Christmas Eve together away from where true family lies.  Although there are multiple issues that weave their way through this film, I think this story-line does, in fact, have to do with the Sabbath day.  Through his actions, Edward is simply not respecting his family as well as the Christmas holiday throughout his escapade.  This depiction truly allows the viewer to connect to remembering the “Sabbath day,” or Christmas in this case.  While I was watching the film, I was angry that Edward was not home with his family where he belongs, and I think this relates to the fact that Christians should be with their Family (God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit) on the Sabbath day.

Another visual trope that kept occurring throughout the film was a shot of a man that was wandering around asking “where is my home?”  I think this specific visual trope also plays into the Sabbath day theme.  While we didn’t know who this wandering man was, I think he still played an important part.  This man seemed to have a completely opposite problem in comparison to Edward.  He was wandering the streets during Christmas Eve asking “where is my home?”  Edward, on the other hand, knew where his home was and where he should be, but he was simply ignoring it.  As the viewer, I wanted him to go home to his family for Christmas instead of staying out with Ewa.  However, he continued to ignore his family on Christmas Eve.  It seems almost unfair that the wandering man just wanted to be home, but Edward was taking advantage of the fact that he had a home.  For this reason, the wandering man was used as a visual trope throughout the film to indicate the deliberate sin against keeping the “Sabbath day” holy.  Another cinematic device that added to this idea of sin throughout the film was the low lighted diegeses.  This specific cinematic device contributes to the seriousness of the story-line and plays into its sinful feel.  Although this film isn’t explicit with its meaning, Kieslowski’s use of these cinematic devices, visual tropes, and deep story-line caused the viewer to think about the true moral of the story.

Episode 2: Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain

                Not all of the Decalogue episodes line up with the commandment they are based on. Episode 2 is definitely one of them. The entire storyline is one of adultery and deceit, a clear infraction of the seventh commandment. Until further research, I was under the impression that this was the commandment that the movie was based on. I was wrong. Though the entire movie seems to be based on this commandment, its title is that of the second commandment, “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.” I am not entirely sure as to how this commandment was illustrated in the film.

                 The issue of adultery never explicitly talked about in the movie as being wrong.  The main character, Dorota cheats on her husband and is impregnated by her lover. The fact that her husband is dying in the hospital, confuses Dorota on her true feelings toward both men. She decides to have an abortion, cuts off ties with her lover, and gives up on her husband’s recovery. Out of self-centeredness and hurt, she essentially gives up on the three people in her life who are closest to her.

                Plants are shown 4 times throughout the one hour film. Though their significance is never talked about or disclosed in the film, the viewer is almost forced to place a meaning on them due to their constant reappearances. The meaning I ascribed to them was that of the preciousness of life. The first and third times plants are spotlighted in the film, the doctor is shown handling them with care and nurturing them. This creates a great symbolism about his character. As a doctor, he cares greatly about the lives of his patients, and does his best to keep them alive. The second time focus is placed on a plant is a shot of Dorota ripping the leaves off a tall and healthy windowsill plant. (picture of Dorota and the plant below) This illustrates how she forsakes all hope of her husband’s recovery, and her total disregard for her baby’s life. The final time Kieslowski uses this visual trope is in the hospital room. Dorota takes the leaves she ripped off the plant earlier in the film and places them on the ground next to her husband’s bed. We are shown an extreme close up of them. Though the husband is confused when he wakes up and notices the leaves, we, as viewers, are reassured that Dorota has indeed given up all hope for her husband’s recovery.

Dorota 

                The constant close ups of each character’s face keep the viewer closely connescted to the emotions of each character. Low lighting is used to play into the somber mood of the movie and to emphasize the evident sin. Though Kieslowski’s use of cinematic devices and visual tropes definitely force the viewer to think about the deeper meanings, parallels and morals of the film, I am not sure that the meaning he was trying to convey is evident.  

Episode I--No Other Gods

The first episode of Kieslowski's The Decalogue depicts the first commandment, "You shall have no other gods before me." (Ex. 20:3 ESV) The film is subtle in its religiosity, and draws us into the story with smart writing and brilliant use of cinematic devices. As Tim alluded to in his overview, the setting is quite bleak in keeping with the sentiment of the Eastern European audience in the late 20th century.

Kieslowski's use of the television at the beginning and end of the film is powerful in generating questions and then answering the same questions as the film ends. It lets us into Pavel's aunt's world, tells us his story, and then releases us back into the present to continue our lives, hopefully different for having been a part of Pavel's story.

Pavel's story is a sad one, yet one that is necessary to be told. Kieslowski's use of the pigeon and the dead dog to raise questions of the meaning of life and death are spot-on. As Pavel asks his father those questions, we can identify with both of them, as most of us have pondered these important concepts at one time or another. His father's stark answers are not satisfactory to Pavel, and he seeks his Christian aunt's opinions as well.

Kieslowski portrays the father as an athiest, but a loving atheist who wants his son to be safe. When Pavel finds the skates we get a sense of impending doom, especially once the father double checks the thickness of the ice after having run the calculations on the computer. The father is humanized in this moment, and loses a bit of his coldness. It is at this moment we see that the father doesn't completely trust his computers, which means he may not completely trust his own atheist worldview.

The father's refusal to go to the ice and check immediately on Pavel is maddening, since that is the first place we want to go. Our first instinct is to rule out the worst case scenario, but the director wants to draw us further into the father's atheist view first. Kieslowski has the father exhaust all other options before finally admitting to himself that something terrible may have happened. After tracking down the reunited family that left the scene near the ice, the father realizes Pavel is likely dead, and collapses in a dark stairwell and the realization sinks in. The use of the dark tones in this film pays off by pulling us into the father's grief.

The director does a fantastic job of illustrating punishment for putting other things in place of God. The father trusted his computers, his reasoning, even his own physical tests, but had no faith in God. In the end, the father is overcome and returns to the church, tossing the religious items on the altar, perhaps in some way getting back at God for taking Pavel. But the fact that he came back to the church indicates that he blames God and therefore acknowledges His existence.

The ahha! moment comes when the scene cuts to the image of Pavel running through the school, and it is thoroughly satisfying. It is a visual trope that neatly answers the questions raised at the beginning of the film. Another visual trope is the observer at the fire near the lake, who is mysteriously absent during the key moments of the film, when the kids fell in, and when they are pulled out of the water. I'm not certain of his significance, but Kieslowski puts several shots of this man throughout the film. I believe he could represent "us," the audience. Kieslowski has never revealed why he put those specific shots in the film, but I believe it is simply another filmic device that encourages us to engage the film and search for meaning in each frame.

Inspiration for The Decalogue

Before watching The Decalogue, one should understand the background and the context from which it was created. We will be looking into Polish and Eastern European culture in the next posts and throughout the course of the blog. Keeping that in mind, we will tackle the filmmakers and their creative vision and inspiration.

The series of movies was conceived after the producer saw a medieval depiction of the Ten Commandments. The above picture is presumably of the aforementioned depiction. The producer decided that it was important to make a modern-day depiction of the Ten Commandments told through a modern-day medium: film. 

Notable in the picture is the medieval concept and perspective of the Ten Commandments. Notice, in particular, the demonic figures in each portion, seemingly playing a part in or even enabling the sin to occur. In other words, the devil made me do it. It will be interesting to see how the Decalogue tackles the concept and nature of sin and what humankind's responsibility is in regard to sin. Is humanity born depraved and into sin? Or is humankind drawn to sin by evil forces or circumstances?

It is important to properly understand the Ten Commandments and how modern society has developed a misguided perception. The Ten Commandments were not given to Israel simply to create regulations for life that are in turn punishable when disobeyed. Instead, they were given as a gift to the people of God as a way of conveying the best, most productive way of living: "It might work out better for everyone, if you don't kill each other."  So it will also be interesting to note how The Decalogue deals with the idea of this covenant with God and how the characters are dealt with who rebel against its precepts.

Also of note is how the late 20th century mindset of Eastern Europeans impacts the storytelling. Will the settings be generally bleak? Will the filmmakers choose to address specific cultural mores or themes on a broader scale or both? 

Kieslowski tackles ideas of morality and society in his Three Colors Trilogy, as well. Wikipedia (Three Colors: Red)  mentions that he addresses the themes of "the manner in which man acts in society, the relationship between the law, ethics and socially acceptable behavior and how not all of them coincide." This may be an indication on how he will challenge the viewer with each part of The Decalogue to make his/her own decision of what is right and wrong.

Test Post

A test post is a post which tests the posting abilities of the poster, and thereby proves or disproves one's ability to post to this specific blog. Hopefully, we'll be able to read this test post and confirm that we are indeed in the business of blogging. This is one small step for our group, and one giant leap for our blogging careers. Here goes!