Dekalog

1989 mini-series

Rating: 18/20

Plot: Various inhabitants of an apartment complex in Warsaw have some problems.

In these ten one-hour films loosely based on the Ten Commandments, Kieslowski takes us on a beautifully poetic journey with these characters and their universal moral dilemmas, ask universal questions, and make universal mistakes. You could probably watch these in any order and probably not watch some of them at all. Most of them are connected by an established tone and pace--all but the 10th one, I'd say--as well as the way these characters, their sins, and their narratives unravel. You really feel the emotional impact of the ironies in these stories.

They're barely connected by the decalogue despite what the title of the series would have you believe. Looking at the Commandments in order, you can easily see what it has to do with having other gods, adultery, coveting crap, telling fibs, etc., but the individual commandments themselves are just launching pads for the stories. Also, a lot of the commandments bleed into episodes they're not supposed to be in. Sometimes, it seems, people's sins spawn other sins. But we Americans don't need Kieslowski or the Bible to tell us that because we've got a president who demonstrates it every single day.

Kieslowski directed all of these, but they each have a different cinematographer, most of whom have names with too many consonants in them. So while they all have the gorgeously-shot apartment complex in them, each episode has its own distinct look. They also take place in different seasons, and I wish I would have paid more attention earlier to see if it's in any specific order. The first takes place in winter, and some of the other ones have these surprising trees and flowers.

I do really like some things that either connect most or all of the episodes or that I'm just imaging. I know there's a recurring speechless character played by Artur Barcis who shows up at key moments in all but two of these. He makes eye contact with the characters at these mostly-crucial times. It's never 100% clear what he's supposed to be--a deity, an angel, maybe even a demon. There's also a lot of milk in these. There might be milk in every single episode actually. Additionally, it seems like there are a lot of dogs in this. Sometimes, the dogs are important to the plot, sometimes they're on the periphery, and sometimes you can just hear them in the background.

I was going to write about each individual episode separately, but I really don't even feel like doing one blog post about the whole thing. Frankly, they're not all great. Ok, fine, I'll go through them all. I don't have much else going on.

The first one, dealing with the commandment about not having other gods, is one of the devastating standouts. Like a lot of the really good ones, you feel what is going on long before you actually know what's going on. There's a live pigeon, a dead dog, and wax on a painting all surrounding a sort-of baptism with ice. In this one, you learn how God really hates measuring and counting.

The second one, with an ethical quandary that's almost as exciting as an action movie (one that is actually referenced in another episode), is also a really good one. Initially, I suspected Kieslowski was inspired by The Love Bug, but I don't think I was right about that. More animals with a mysterious fallen hare, pickled olives, a flower that doesn't grow and another one that is dismembered. This is one where the irony has an emotional impact. Out of all of these, it's toughest to see how the commandment fits. There might be swearing, and there might be an idea that a doctor character should be seen as some sort of omnipotent god. My favorite shot in this one is an apartment pan to a husband who isn't in the apartment to a fly on a spoon in some weird drink. Man, that's good stuff.

The third installment is also good with a character who doesn't recognize Santa Claus. I loved the cinematography in this one. There are so many light blurs. Camera lens, windows, blinking headlight good byes. Lots of characters in this one are observed through windows in this one. A recurring drunkard croons Christmas songs and talks about how he's lost his home. A later scene in a drunk tank with this bald creepy manager is a good one. Those characters are probably seen through windows, too.

The fourth is one I didn't like nearly as much, but I do appreciate its ambiguities and refusal to provide any answers. This is a rather perverse look at the "obey your parents or else" commandment.

The fifth is one of two that also have feature-length versions. I'll check those out eventually. This one's about murder and has a much different look than the others. The tone is much darker, probably appropriate since this is the one about murder. Everything's mud and grimy window in this one, and unless there was something wrong with the technology I was watching this on, the fringes of the screen were usually really dark, almost framing all the characters in this murk. Two scenes of violence in this one are shown in ways that will make them really difficult to forget.

The sixth is the other that was extended into a longer film, A Short Film about Love. The camera conspires to make the viewer culpable in this voyeurism in this one. This has characters with inconclusive motivations, one who literally cries over literal spilled milk at one point. Both characters at the center of this ethical dilemma are seemingly looking for the kind of love that the other one has which makes their individual stories that intertwine to become a single story intriguing. Amplified dry mouth following by premature ejaculation and weeping--words that could be a chapter title in my memoir--is a strange highlight. Oh, and the clever line of dialogue "I am not here."

The seventh starts with nightmarish nightmare screams, but the highlights include a billiards ball bouncing down steps in what might be considered Kieslowski's attempt at heist drama and a creepy merry-go-round in the middle of nowhere. A little girl giggles "Did you kidnap me?" This one has more of those ambiguities that I love, but the narrative isn't paced very well, and I never really feel these characters as much as I do in most of the other chapters.

The eighth is another tough one, a convoluted story about little white lies and the big kind of lies that can have a profound impact on your psyche. I did love a recurring crooked picture, a flickering light, and a sputtering car, all three metaphors of something. A tardy stumbling (possibly drunk) student's arrival to a class is that actor's moment to shine.

The ninth is a real highlight. Whereas the bland cinematography of the last two hold them back a little, it's a real treat in this one. There are some great reflections, and the lighting in an elevator ride was a visual stunner. I also liked a metaphorical glove compartment in this one. The mysterious reality and the accidental mysteries of this one and some characters who were interesting because of what damaged them made this one interesting from start to finish. And the music that pops into this one nearly dropped my jaw to the floor.

The tenth stands out, too, but that's mostly because it's pretty different from the rest. It starts with a punk performance ("Kill! Kill! Kill and fornicate! Fornicate and covet! All week long!" lyrics couldn't be any more on the nose, could they?) and has a more darkly comic tone than the rest. It's kind of different in the same way Three Colors: White is different from Red and Blue, and actually, this episode shares actors with the middle part of that trilogy. I liked it even though I spent most of the episode frustrated about whether or not another one of these chapters had a reference to zeppelin stamps or if I just imagined that whole thing or if it was deja vu. We end learning that it's wrong to covet your neighbor's kidney, and that's an important lesson for anybody.

Put 'em all together and you've got something that is lovely and profound. I'd highly recommend these. If you can see it theatrically, you'll be sitting in a theater for ten hours. I'm not sure that would work, but if you watch one or two a day like I did, it works out pretty well. And you can tell your co-workers that you're binge-watching a Polish television mini-series and impress everybody at your job.