"Being Alive is a Gift": Krzysztof Kieslowski's The Decalogue

Like most art of spiritual depth, Krzysztof Kieslowski's "The Decalogue," his series of ten one-hour films on the Ten Commandments, was not brought into being for didactic or religious purposes. The Polish film director, who died in 1996, called himself an agnostic; it was Krzysztof Piesiewicz, a criminal lawyer in Warsaw (who refers to himself as "Christian rather than Catholic") who first suggested the project and ended up collaborating on the screenplay of "The Decalogue," which was first shown on Polish TV in 1989. "Our idea was very simple," Kieslowski said. "The Decalogue is one of the ethical foundations of our society. Everyone is more or less familiar with the Ten Commandments, and agrees with them, but no one really observes them." Hailed by critics as the greatest cinematic achievement of the last generation, "The Decalogue" was known in the United States only to film festival audiences until last year, when it was released in a handsome five-video edition. ¹

Kieslowski's experience as a documentary filmmaker underlies his determination to present an intense and complex view of reality. He wanted to encourage a critical spirit in a country whose Communist government owed its existence to Soviet power. An early narrative film, "Camera Buff" (1979) describes what happens when a Polish worker gets hold of a movie camera. At first intending only to chronicle family events, the worker gets carried away by all the camera can record and ends up alienating the authorities with his indiscreet filming. In "Blind Chance" (1981), which was banned in Poland after marital law was declared in December of that year, Kieslowski presents the possible choices that were then available to people: cooperation with the authorities, work with Solidarity, or concentration on one's family and career. The movie, he said, "is a description of the powers that meddle with our fate, that push us this way or that." He insisted, however, that we must accept moral responsibility for our choices.

Nothing could be further from Hollywood versions of "The Ten Commandments" than "The Decalogue." The viewer is not overwhelmed with super-colossal images of divine power but, instead, is intellectually and emotionally stretched by a series of closely observed moral dilemmas. The films do not even contain the text of the commandments under consideration, but open simply with a number: "Decalogue 1, 2," etc. There is an area of ambiguity in the lives of all the characters; at the same time, there are no villains, not even the murderer who throttles a taxi-driver in "Decalogue 5." "We didn't want to adopt the tone of those who praise or condemn, handing out a reward here for doing good and a punishment there for doing evil," Kieslowski declared. "Rather, we wished to say, 'We know no more than you. But maybe it is worth investigating the unknown, if only because the very feeling of not knowing is a painful one.'"

When viewing "The Decalogue" one is often tempted to nudge the person in the next seat to make sure which commandment the individual movie is dealing with. "Decalogue 4" deals with incestuous desire; in "Decalogue 7" a single mother "steals" her daughter from the grandmother who is now caring for the child--and who had shown little love for her own daughter when she was growing up. Each sequence is complex and fresh; more often than not the questions raised have connections with more than one commandment. "Decalogue 10," for example, encourages serious reflection not only on coveting your neighbor's goods, but on stealing, bearing false witness, and honoring one's parents. Almost all the movies remind us of the commandment against killing; indeed, the imperative to choose life and the recognition--as the aunt tells the boy Pavel in "Decalogue 1"--that "being alive is a gift" are the leitmotifs of the entire series. Some filmgoers may only...