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).