Blog 2 - Harrison Crews - The Decalogue and Midrash
I can see how Kieslowski approached the creation of these films with Midrash in mind. For one, none of the points are blunt. Obvious by the end, okay, maybe. In Decalogue I, comparative meaning was used to establish deeper meaning. Not to say it wasn’t in Decalogue V, but I at least felt something special when viewing the concept of the first Commandment from this film. The phrase “I am the Lord they God; thou shalt have no other gods before me” can seem archaic and dated, which is an issue for any core religious belief. Of course, there are other religions present, but religion is not bound to what we view as the divine. Krysztof is notable in this for his lack of faith in a higher power, but replaces it with science, math, and technology instead of another deity. Comparative meaning can be found here, from modern technology to the other gods that the Commandment originally spoke of. In the end, what steeper cost is there to pay for his sacrilege than his own son? Signs pop up throughout the film constantly that let us draw this. The computer speaking to them may demonstrate it as a representation of a false god of sorts, something supernatural and uncontrolled. The two most striking symbols, I felt, were the images of Krysztof destroying the altar along with those of him watching his son’s body dredged from the frozen lake. The former represents a rejection from God, showing him as the break of the Commandment and the despair it drives him to. The latter gave me the feeling of Old Testament-style wrath of God. It drew the line between the modern all-loving, peaceful God and the God who destroyed cities and species for defying him. It evoked images of the Pharaoh‘s firstborn son struck down for his defiance of God. At the same time, however, it let us see Krysztof as a man and a father abandoned by his beliefs as he stands in shock with his only son‘s frozen corpse before him, not just an ignorant sinner as some more black-and-white religious perspectives would put forth. There is an even deeper sense of abandonment here by the shot being not of him upon his son’s body, but behind an entire crowd as strangers from emergency services retrieve it. Both of these wrapped around each other to establish what had happened and why, letting the audience feel it more than think it with images subtle enough to keep from being blatant, but strong enough to be undeniable. In this, feeling plays a larger role, especially in how humans share it. The audience feels the desperation as Krysztof searches for his son, so we feel desperate. We feels the sense of loss he already has talking about his faith in science and lack of faith elsewhere, thus we feel lost. We feel his sorrow when he realizes his son is dead as we watch him rage and mourn, thus we are sorrowful. This takes all the other elements and makes them personal, giving them a deeper meaning as Midrash is supposed to. These feelings touch those who watch it, to makes them care and make them pay attention like they could not possibly do if they did not react emotionally to the story on the screen. It gives a personal meaning to the audience, keeping what might otherwise fade out relevant in their lives by its nuanced observational style of the ancient Ten Commandments.
Decalogue V’s approach was not entirely dissimilar from Decalogue I, but it most certainly had differences. The topic matter, I’d argue, was much more controversial than the first. The death penalty is a hot button in more than a handful of places, but it provides a ready comparative meaning for the topic of “Thou shalt not kill.” It draws the audience in not so much through Piotr at first, but Jacek, the actual killer. While he is not wholly sympathetic, he is established as a human being in the eyes of the audience through several actions. When he wants the picture blown up of the little girl, it establishes that however cruel or senseless he may appear, he still feels. This is repeated when he smiles at the children outside the window. His story does this to a lesser degree, but the small things are really what set him apart in the minds of the audience. The daily life of the cab driver serves the same purpose. However, one of the strong visuals relating to the brutality of killing is while Jacek kills Waldemar, he straddles him, Waldemar with a bag over his head, raises a rock, and smashes his head in. The manner he does this in is frighteningly calm for someone murdering another man, which leads into his own execution. With these having worked Jacek’s identity into being human, though a flawed one, the image of his futile struggling while he is coldly hanged parallels the manner in which his victim died. In this, it is represented that a murder is a murder, even if institutionalized like the death penalty. The audience, watching this, is again made to feel. They have to feel that the people are alive and real, pushed to do so by their observation of them. They also have to feel the relevance of condemning the death penalty, so they have to feel the clearly wrong nature of what happens to both Jacek and his victim. In that, feeling is completely needed. The goal is to have them, as Piotr does, “abhor” the nature of killing, both outside and inside the law. The audience bears witness to the symbols of humanity, the symbols of killing, and thus feels the horror tied to their connection, creating a deeper, personal meaning as before. In regards to the last point, I think at least the pieces we watched to a good job of contextualizing the code. They are given meaning and relevance to the points they are based on. The Commandments are eternal, ancient things, larger than the daily lives of man, which makes them easy to forget. However, by connecting them with modern parallels, Kieslowski establishes on a personal level with his audience that these are constantly-present ideas, not just archaic footnotes. In that, the eternal is realized as present in the moment even if the two seem opposite. These rules are relevant, even vital to the characters. When the audience feels for the characters, they relate to them. When they relate to them, they look at how they are similar. The moment cannot ignore what always will be, just as the eternal must always bear relevance to the moment. In that, both in the movie and in its message, The Decalogue works to establish a bridge between the flux of the moment and the ultimate meaning eternity by interlocking the two.
All that said, it did prompt a few questions from me. I’m an atheist, which already puts me a little at odds with Decalogue I. Still, most of the Ten Commandments are with great merit as simple rules. Is there a message someone of little faith could take from Decalogue I aside from having no other god but god, such as an over-reliance on a specific source of information? Was the man in Decalogue I’s son taken for his own transgressions or his father’s, as he had genuine interest in spirituality? Is the loss of Piotr’s idealism watching the circus of death in Decalogue V another example of murder taking more victims than just those immediately killed? How does Krysztof’s destruction of the altar at the end of Decalogue I serve the point in question? I know we discussed this, but what are some potential alternative for the presence of the man sitting out in snow in Decalogue I besides being a god figure? Is it legitimate to suggest that it was just a casting decision or is there indeed some greater meaning? From just a viewer standpoint, are all the Decalogues so dark?
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