A DVD Review of The Decalogue: Special Edition
Krzysztof Kieslowski’s ten-hour Polish miniseries “The Decalogue” (1989) has often been rightfully praised as being one of the best films ever made. The reasons, while numerous, can successfully be trimmed down to two keys points. First and foremost, Kieslowski’s tells each of his self-contained one-hour morality tales, which each revolve around one of the Ten Commandments, without being didactic. Secondly, Kieslowski makes full use of the filmic medium. Relying on images and sound, Kieslowski refuses to tell his stories without unnecessary dialogue. To simplify things, “The Decalogue” probably best resembles Ingmar Bergman’s questions of morality intersecting with the aesthetic of Stanley Kubrick or Robert Bresson. However, such comparisons do not even come close to the emotional and artistic zenith that Kieslowski reaches in his massive canvas.
As previously noted, each of the episodes, in some way, revolves around each of the Ten Commandments. This premise almost by nature dooms an artistic piece to pick a moral high ground, much like a Sunday School special along the lines of “Davey and Goliath.” However, Kieslowski views morality in a much more realistic and complex manner.
This point of view is firmly placed at the backbone of the series beginning with the first episode. For instance, the first episode is based around the Commandment of honoring false Gods. In the episode, a father and his genius son use a computer to calculate when a local pond will freeze so children will be able to safely skate upon it. They firmly place their faith in the computer and even though they are portrayed as being incredibly smart, this faith leads to a simplification of nature and tragedy occurs. This could be interpreted as being didactic because Kieslowski (or God, if you prefer) is punishing his characters for their misplaced faith. However, what Kieslowski is really doing is commenting on the simplification or abstraction of any belief.
Kieslowski’s complex observations about morals intersects with the aesthetics he applies to the series. For instance, Kieslowski never supplies the audience with a character who feels compelled to deliver a message or a lecture. In fact, very often, Kieslowski’s directorial style leads away from dialogue completely, favoring a masterful use of images and sound for the bulk of each episode. By doing so, Kieslowski demonstrates the paradoxical ability to be minimal and draw the audience in more intimately. As best noted by Stanley Kubrick, Kieslowski has “the very rare ability to dramatize their ideas rather than just talking about them.”
Facets Video provides Kieslowski’s opus with a generous but somewhat lacking special edition. Included in the three-disc set are an interview/introduction with Roger Ebert, which is basically has him reading his “Great Movies” essay, three documentaries on Kieslowski, and a booklet with an introduction written by Kieslowski and an interview with his co-screenwriter. Arguably, the set could have included a better video and audio treatment and some commentaries, preferably from Kieslowski scholar Annette Insdorf. Basically, the series deserves the stellar treatment that Kieslowski’s second masterpiece, “The Three Colors Trilogy,” was given. However, it is important to note that this special edition treatment is much more appeasing than their previous, series-only, edition.
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