Kieslowski’s Dekalog—All Ten, Digitally Restored

It predates Netflix binging, appointment television, and “TV too good for TV.” Arguably, the nearest precedent for Krzysztof Kieslowski’s ten-part mini-series broadly inspired by the Ten Commandments would be Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s epic Berlin Alexanderplatz—auteur filmmaking applied to the television serial format—but the thematic and narrative similarities are few and far between. Using the residents of a grim Panelak-style Communist housing complex, Kieslwoski and co-screenwriter Krzysztof Piesiewicz pose many thorny moral questions, but offer few answers in the digitally restored Dekalog (trailer here), which screens theatrically in two-hour, two-episode installments, starting this Friday in New York.

Do not try to apply one-to-one symmetry between the Commandments and the Dekalogs. Neither were written for the sake of such comparisons. You could argue the Commandments are all present in each Dekalog, but some are always more pronounced. Nobody understood better than Piesiewicz the damage Communism inflicted on the Polish soul, but neither free-thinking Krzysztof was really interested in making political statements by the late 1980s. Instead, Dekalog is an examination of the national conscience. Yet, it is hard to overlook the rationing and Spartan living standards produced by Socialism.

Although the computer technology depicted in Dekalog: One now looks prehistoric, it is arguably as timely today as it was in 1988. Widely thought to directly address the First Commandments (no false gods), a professor who venerates science employs mathematical formulas and computer models to determine when the lake will be sufficiently frozen for his son to use his new ice-skates. Like many Dekalogs, it is a tragedy. While it is unusually explicit in its religious symbolism, Dekalog: One establishes the dark look and ambiguous tone that hold relatively consistent throughout the series/film. It also introduces Artur Barciś playing an unnamed watcher-bystander, who briefly appears in seven more Dekalogs (he was also supposed to have a walk-on in Dekalog: Seven, but production snafus conspired against it).

All Dekalogs are created equal, but Dekalog: Two is more equal than others. For one thing, it will be referenced in detail several times during Dekalog: Eight. It is also distinguished by the presence of Krystyna Janda (arguably the most important screen actor of the late 1970s and early 1980s, known for Wajda masterworks, like Man of Marble, Man of Iron, and Without Anesthesia) as Dorota Geller, an orchestra musician with a dilemma. She is still devoted to her comatose husband, but she is pregnant with another man’s baby. As fate dictates, the chief attending physician is also a resident of the complex. She will repeatedly press the doctor for a hard and fast prognosis, so she can determine whether she can keep the baby or have an abortion for her husband’s sake. Critics try to force Dekalog: Two into the Second Commandment, regarding taking the Lord’s name in vain, you can find plenty to apply to the Commandments prohibiting adultery and murder.

Dekalog: Three might be the most self-contained, chronicling a family man’s chaotic Christmas Eve, as a former married lover drags him across the city, ostensibly in search of her suicidal husband. Arguably, it represents Kieslowski’s only traditional car chase, yet it is still completely in keeping with the rest of the Dekalog. Believe it or not, this is thought to relate to Sabbath-keeping, but again, the adultery Commandment seems more apt—not that it really matters.

In contrast, Dekalog: Four is probably as edgy as the series gets, focusing on a father-daughter relationship that inevitably takes on provocative overtones when she discovers he is not her biological parent. Similarly, Dekalog: Five is easily the most violent installment, revolving around the senseless impulse-murder of a cab driver. Kielsowski and Pieslowski would return to its heavy themes of crime, punishment, and remorse, expanding the story into the full feature, A Short Film About Killing.

Dekalog: Six was similarly expanded into A Short Film About Love. It could well be the most divisive Dekalog, but reaction to the tale of a woman who turns the tables on her Peeping Tom more severely than she intended should not simply cleave along gender lines. Be that as it may, as the alluring, somewhat older Magda and the socially stunted Tomek, Grazyna Szapolowska and Olaf Lubaszenko give two of Dekalog’s most indelible performances.

Dekalog: Seven might be the weakest link, not merely due to Barciś’s absence, but also as a result of some problematic motivations. The clearly unstable Majka has kidnapped her young sister, Ania, who is really the daughter she was forced to relinquish to her disdainful mother to avoid the stigma of scandal. She now intends to reclaim her maternal role in Canada, but of course it will not be so simple.

Fittingly, Dekalog: Eight ranks alongside Dekalog: Two as series high points. Dorota Geller’s story is duly related in the ethics class of Zofia, a spry philosophy professor and a widely respected veteran of the Polish Resistance. Elżbieta, a visiting American academic is also sitting in today. Unbeknownst to Zofia, her guest is a Holocaust survivor, whom she once encountered under very complicated circumstances.

Ironically, the narrative of Dekalog: Nine feels familiar, but it is actually a tangential supporting character that inspired yet another film (in this case, the flat-out masterpiece, The Double Life of Veronique). Granted, this tale of a man freshly diagnosed with impotency who becomes obsessively jealous of his attractive wife has its analogs, but the execution is remarkably powerful.

Happily, Dekalog: Ten maintains the project’s high standards. Appropriately, it also calls back to Dekalog: Eight. Kieslowski regular Jerzy Stuhr (The Scar, Camera Buff, Blind Chance) and Zbigniew Zamachowski play the staid middle aged and younger punk rocker sons of a recently deceased absentee father. In addition to his debts, they also inherit a shockingly valuable stamp collection. Inevitably, this leads to paranoia, which might not be so unfounded.

Familiar faces will reappear, but unlike subsequent braided narratives, Kieslwoski and Piesiewicz are not obsessively concerned with the interrelatedness of their major and minor characters. Still, there is an awful lot to observe and absorb in Dekalog. In all honesty, it represents quite a challenge for programmers. It is too heavy to binge-watch. Indeed, each Dekalog really demands time to decompress. Yet, all ten should ideally be seen in close succession. The IFC strategy of screening two-Dekalog blocks over five weeks is probably as good as any and better than most. Regardless, it is a towering achievement and a deeply challenging moral and aesthetic statement. Very highly recommended, Kieslowski’s Dekalog commences this Friday (9/2) in New York, at the IFC Center.

Martin Scorsese Presents: Wajda’s Man of Iron

It is the first and arguably the only true sequel to win the Palme D’Or, but it has far wider historical significance than mere festival laurels. Picking up exactly where Andrzej Wajda’s Man of Marble left off, it depicts the heady days of Solidarity’s initial victories with documentary-like immediacy—and even boasts Lech Wałęsa appearing briefly as himself. Wajda’s Man of Iron is a true masterpiece that fittingly opens Martin Scorsese Presents: Masterpieces of Polish Cinema this Wednesday at the Walter Reade Theater.

Sadly, Iron almost immediately undercuts the exhilarating ending of Marble. It had seemed Agnieszka, a muckraking journalist in training, would finally reveal the true fate of Mateusz Birkut, a former labor hero of state propaganda conspicuously scrubbed from public records, with the help of his son, Maciej Tomczyk. Oh but not so fast, say her superiors at the television station.

It turns out the acorn has not fallen far from the tree in the case of the modest, self-effacing Tomczyk. Following Birkut’s example, he has become a leader in the budding Solidarity movement, largely modeled on Wałęsa, Wajda’s Man of Hope. Although muzzled by the Party, he and Agnieszka have fallen in love. Alas, she is not there to appreciate Tomczyk’’s increasing prominence as a democracy activist. As an independent journalist living in a police state, she is exactly where Thoreau would say she should be.

In accordance with the historical record, Solidarity calls a strike in the Gdansk shipyards in response to the punitive dismissal of Anna Walentynowicz (who also briefly appears as herself), but their protests are embraced far more widely by the general public than they ever expected. Recognizing the seismic shift in the zeitgeist, leaders like Tomczyk and Wałęsa pivot away from  small ball agenda items to big picture demands. Caught flatfooted, the Communist Party resorts to dirty tricks.  Enter the sheepish Winkel. A former independent journalist from Agnieszka’s circle, he has sold out to the powers that be. Yet, given his history, the Party expects him to win back his former colleagues’ confidence, only to betray them once again with a report exposing whatever scandal he can muster on Tomczyk.

There is a lot going on in Iron, but it can be readily appreciated simply as a document of Solidarity’s unprecedented 1980 breakthroughs. However, it is an even richer experience for viewers who have seen Marble. Try to imagine a sequel to Citizen Kane equally accomplished as the original, in which William Alland turns his attention to a long lost son of Charles Foster Kane, at the behest of the Pulitzers, and you will have a vague idea of Iron’s full significance.

While she necessarily has far less screen time given the circumstances of her character, the truly heroic Krystyna Janda (truly devastating in the duly banned The Interrogation) returns as Agnieszka, fortifying the film with integrity in each of her scenes. Arguably, Jerzy Radziwilowicz surpasses his work as Birkut in Marble, playing the quiet but forceful Tomczyk with richer nuance. Yet, Marian Opania ultimately stands alone defining Iron as the acutely tragic Winkel, showing the audience just how hard it is to regain a soul sold cheap. It is an extraordinarily powerful performance, precisely because it comes from such an unlikely figure.

Man of Iron is a great way to start a stellar film series, personally curated by Scorsese. Obviously, he is an expert in just about everything film related, but the editorial consideration he brought to bear on the Masterpieces of Polish Cinema collection is impeccable. Fully restored with newly translated subtitles, Man of Iron is highly recommended to anyone who cares about cinema. It kicks off the series this Wednesday (2/5) at the Walter Reade Theater.

Elles Belles

Sex for money can be so liberating.  At least, that is what some guys always say.  A similar position is staked out in a rather mature new film produced and directed by women and featuring a largely female cast.  Even if they adore Juliette Binoche, this is not a film to watch with your parents.  However, a lot of people saw it with other people’s parents when it screened at the 2012 Tribeca Film Festival.  Mere days later, Malgoska Szumowska’s Elles (trailer here) has opened its conventional theatrical run in New York.

Anne is a wife, a mother, and a freelance writer.  Her latest story is a confidential profile of student prostitutes.  The assignment came at an awkward period in her marriage, around the same time she busted her husband for a certain kind of net surfing.  As she talks to these confident young women, she becomes obsessed with their explicit stories.  According to Charlotte and Alicja, their approach to sex is healthier, because there is no hypocrisy.  They make a comfortable living exploiting men’s weaknesses of the flesh.  Maybe so, but liberation never looked so demeaning.

Films exploring the jujitsu empowerment of prostitutes are nearly as old as the profession itself.  One obvious comparison is Steven Soderbergh’s The Girlfriend Experience, which also screened at Tribeca three years ago.  Yet, that film, starring an actual pornstar, is far more circumspect in what it depicts.  In fact, there is no on-screen sex and only a spot of nudity is to be seen here or there.  It is the emotional entanglements surrounding sex that concern GFE.  In contrast, Elles jumps right into some of the more explicit scenes you will see in a public theater.  It was not tagged with an NC-17 rating for no reason.

Frankly, Soderbergh had the right idea.  Even if Szumowska had a razor sharp analysis of sexual politics to offer, it is hard to get past some of the things she shows the audience.  However, the film’s feminist themes are pretty threadbare and the drama is more frustrating than absorbing.

Normally a bedrock of reliability, even Binche seems a little off here as the journalist.  Her reactions to everything often seem wildly disproportionate to the circumstances at hand.  Still, Anaïs Demoustier and Joanna Kulig both bring smart, attractive presences to bear on this material.  For the record, I briefly met Kulig on the way to a post-screening Q&A and she seems like a lovely and engaging person.  I imagine the audience had a lot of questions for her, but whether they had the guts to ask them is another matter entirely.  It is also worth noting, the legendary Krystyna Janda (whose credits include Andrzej Wajda’s Man of Marble and Ryszard Bugajski’s The Interrogation) also co-stars in the largely thankless role of Alicja’s mother.

Something about Elles simply does not click.  It is not necessarily because of the subject matter, but it makes the lack of depth and cohesion more conspicuous.  Due to the accomplished cast, cineastes should have on their radar, but it is not recommended as a satisfying theater-going experience.  After its high profile Tribeca screenings, Elles is now open in New York at the Angelika Film Center.

Storm Warnings: Interrogation

Considering how many of her films challenged the authoritarian rule of the Communist government, it is a near miracle the great Polish actress Krystyna Janda was allowed any career at all. She indeed appeared in several films which ran afoul of state censors, including Andrzej Wajda’s Man of Marble and Rough Treatment. Yet perhaps her most visceral performance was her Cannes Award winning work in Ryszard Bugajski’s uncomfortably realistic Interrogation, which screens during Lincoln Center Film Society’s Storm Warnings: Resistance and Reflection in Polish Cinema 1977-1989 retrospective, presented in conjunction with the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts’ ongoing Performing Revolution festival.

In Stalinist Poland, even if you tried to avoid politics, political troubles found you. Based on the actual experiences of two Polish women, Janda’s Tonia Dziwisz is a grimly perfect case in point. After a fight with her husband, Dziwisz allows two supposed fans to take her out on the town. However, after plying her with alcohol, they whisk the now oblivious Dziwisz off to the secret police headquarters.

As she comes to, Dziwisz assumes she was arrested by mistake, having never shown an interest in politics. However, during her initial interrogation sessions, she quickly figures out she is there as a pawn in a wider campaign to discredit her former lover, the unseen Col. Olcha, a military officer who has clearly fallen out of favor. Despite signing an ill-advised confession in hopes of a quick release, she refuses to implicate her ex-flame, setting the stage for years of mental and physical torture.

Interrogation proceeds to give a literal blow-by-blow of the secret police’s process for humiliating and breaking their subjects. It is not a pretty sight. At first, Dziwisz seems to get better treatment from the punctilious Major Zawada in charge of her case than from his subordinate, the contemptuous Lieutenant Morawski. However, Morawski’s ideals are shaken by Dziwisz’s ordeal. Having survived a concentration camp, he now finds himself in the role of state tormentor. In an admittedly credibility challenged plot turn, he and Dziwisz even become furtive lovers.

The great Polish director Agnieszka Holland also appears in Interrogation, playing that dreaded creature, the ideological fanatic and cell narc. When not snitching on her cell-mates, she defends their unjust imprisonment, including her own, as a sacrifice on behalf of Communism. Holland spent most of her career behind the camera, not in front of it, but she is scarily believable as the ice-cold true believer.

Completed mere days before martial law was declared in Poland, Interrogation was duly banned shortly thereafter. It is not an easy film to watch, but it is a powerful viewing experience. Anchored by Janda’s harrowing performance (probably her best screen work), Interrogation is an intense indictment of the Communist system, particularly of the Stalinist era, but also of its own time, by clear implication. It screens at the Walter Reade Theater on Thursday (2/4) and Sunday (2/7).

Holland at MoMA: The Interrogation

Considering how many of her films challenged the authoritarian rule of Poland’s Communist government, it is a near miracle the great Polish actress Krystyna Janda was allowed any career at all. She would indeed appear in several films which ran afoul of state censors, including Andrzej Wajda’s Man of Marble, and Rough Treatment, written by Agnieszka Holland. Janda also co-starred with Holland in Ryszard Bugajski’s The Interrogation, which explains its inclusion in MoMA’s retrospective of Holland’s films, now in its closing days.

In Stalinist Poland, even if you tried to avoid politics, political troubles found you. Based on the actual experiences of two Polish women, Janda’s Tonia Dziwisz is a case in point. After a fight with her husband, Dziwisz allows two supposed fans to take her out on the town. However, after plying her with alcohol, they take the oblivious Dziwisz to the secret police headquarters.

As she comes to, Dziwisz assumes she was arrested by mistake, having never shown an interest in politics. However, during her initial interrogation sessions, she quickly figures out she is there as a pawn in a wider campaign to discredit her former lover, the unseen Col. Olcha, a military officer who has clearly fallen out of favor. Despite signing an ill-advised confession in hopes of a quick release, she refuses to implicate her ex-flame, setting the stage for years of mental and physical torture.

Interrogation proceeds to give a literal blow-by-blow of the secret police’s process for humiliating and breaking their subjects. It is not a pretty sight. At first, Dziwisz seems to get better treatment from the punctilious Major Zawada in charge of her case than from his contemptuous Lieutenant Morawski. However, Morawski’s ideals are shaken by Dziwisz’s ordeal. Having survived a concentration camp, he now finds himself in the role of state tormentor. In an admittedly credibility challenged plot turn, he and Dziwisz even become furtive lovers.

As for Holland, she plays that dreaded individual, the ideological fanatic. When not snitching on her cell-mates, she defends their unjust imprisonment, including her own, as a sacrifice on behalf of Communism. Holland spent most of her career behind the camera, not in front of it, but she is scarily believable as the ice-cold true believer.

Completed mere days before martial law was declared in Poland, Interrogation was duly banned shortly thereafter. It is not an easy film to watch, but it is a powerful viewing experience. Anchored by Janda’s harrowing performance (probably her best screen work), Interrogation is an intense indictment of the Communist system, particularly of the Stalinist era, but also of its own time, by clear implication. It screens again tonight at the MoMA.