 |
Krzysztof Kieslowski's The Decalogue, a series of 10
one-hour films based on the Ten Commandments that
originally aired on Polish television in 1988 and 1989,
finally makes itself available in the U.S. through home
video.
|
Sometime in the past five years, although it's hard to pinpoint an exact date, American moviegoers lost excitement for foreign language films and the masters who make them. The one current film experience that can reverse this trend is The Decalogue, a series of 10 one-hour films based on the Ten Commandments from the late filmmaker Krzysztof Kieslowski.
The Decalogue originally aired on Polish television in 1988 and 1989. Two films -- A Short Film About Killing, an extended version of Decalogue 5, and A Short Film About Love, a version of Decalogue 6 -- were released theatrically in Europe shortly after the TV broadcast. The collection received a brief U.S. release a few years ago, mostly playing alternative venues in select cities. The Sundance Channel premiered it on U.S. cable TV in summer 2000.
Legal issues over The Decalogue's U.S. distribution rights have made the films difficult to see until their recent DVD release. For the first time, the majority of Americans have the chance to watch Kieslowski's masterpiece. Appropriately, The Decalogue returns to U.S. audiences on the small screen, just like its debut in front of Polish viewers 15 years ago.
The Decalogue is a serious work, meaning that it's both complex and engaging. Kieslowski, who was born in Warsaw in 1941, and his longtime screenwriter Krzysztof Piesiewicz use a single Warsaw apartment complex to tell stories that address the Ten Commandments.
The short films, all of them worthwhile, vary in tone, alternating from the shocking violence of Decalogue 5 to the heartfelt drama of Decalogue 1.
In Decalogue 1 (Thou Shalt Have No Other Gods Before Me), a math professor convinces his 11-year-old son that their computer is infallible. While the boy prepares to test his new ice skates, the computer confirms the thickness of ice on a nearby pond. An unexpected catastrophe provides a haunting lesson.
Decalogue 5 (Thou Shalt Not Kill) is the most unnerving of the 10 films. Kieslowski captures the horror of senseless violence in a seven-minute scene of a 20-year-old drifter named Jacek strangling a cabdriver. The film closes with another act of brutal violence, Jacek's execution. Kieslowski makes it clear that there is blood on everyone's hands, no matter on which side of the law you reside.
What connects all the Decalogue stories is Kieslowski's humanistic filmmaking and respect for his characters. These various apartment dwellers might not always make the best decisions, but Kieslowski shows the difficult issues behind their actions and choices.
The Decalogue touches in a heartfelt and profound manner. The impact of watching the entire series is unnerving, because few recent films affect us emotionally.
The gray settings of the various Warsaw apartments are appropriately downscale. The dialogue is thoughtful but believable. These are character-driven stories, and performances are emphasized. The editing is flawless. Zbigniew Preisner's musical score and sound are utilized perfectly for dramatic effect.
With regards to technique, The Decalogue is more polished than Kieslowski's early documentaries and political films. What connects his work is his focus on people, usually lonely, and the decisions they make involving others around them.
Blind Chance (1981) was about the powerful role of chance in life. A young woman appears to be living split lives in The Double Life of Véronique (1991). Kieslowski's best known films remain his Three Colours Trilogy (1993-94), which use the ideals of the French Revolution as their theme: independence, equality and faith.
Kieslowski uses lighting, color filters and camera movement powerfully in his films. They're dazzling to the eye. Yet his characters always step to the forefront no matter how beautiful the shot might be.
Some critics have referred to Kieslowski as something of a film mystic, telling stories about the invisible forces of fate that determine all our lives no matter what we say or do. Watching The Decalogue again convinces me that he's primarily a humanist.
His films, especially The Decalogue, are about the moral ambiguities that make life so complex. His characters often experience devastating pain and loss, but the films remain hopeful. There's always hope, the will to continue, and that's what I mean by Kieslowski's respect for his characters.
American cinema is in crisis, though not in economic terms since studios are profitable. The crisis is one of diversity.
Recent art-house hits such as Bend It Like Beckham, about a young soccer fanatic who hides her place on competitive girls team from her strict parents, and Whale Rider, a coming-of-age story about a young Maori girl in coastal New Zealand, tell feel-good stories that resemble more mainstream fare. I like Beckham and Whale Rider, but I don't want all my film experiences to be uplifting.
The Decalogue shows Kieslowski at his most ambitious, bringing together a group of challenging adult stories that resonate long after you've watched them.
He passed away in 1996 but lived long enough to see his films marginalized by Polish audiences, just like recent work by European masters Jean-Luc Godard and the Taviani brothers are marginalized today. One of the best DVD bonus features shows an agitated Kieslowski on a Polish TV interview show attempting to answer questions from studio audience members who are convinced that he abhors box-office success.
If Kieslowski was still alive and making films, I don't know if they'd find their way into Cincinnati's art-house theaters. Foreign-language films have become that marginalized.
Perhaps it's best that The Decalogue finds its audience through a home video release. ©
Printer-friendly version
