PROLOGUE
In the 1990s, Krzysztof Kieslowski’s Three Colours Trilogy was, to film studies students, what William Shakespeare was to secondary school kids. Basically, a big, fucking pain-in-the-arse. Not that those films or Shakespeare are bad, of course, it’s just that they’re things you need to be in the right mood for in order to experience them joyfully, rather than have them be assigned to you as work. Being a contrarian prick, I would declare back then that I preferred Kieslowski’s Dekalog miniseries, even though I’d probably only seen a couple of episodes on television.
If you can believe it, I had the same lack of friends back then as I do now.
Thirty years after maybe seeing some of it, most likely on BBC2 or Channel 4, I’ve bought the boxset, which had to come from the kind people of Germany, and am now sitting down to give it its due. Being from Germany, this copy has no English dub or subtitles, only the original Polish audio track and a German dub. Neither of these languages I can speak, which is why I decided to make this a “Subtitles OFF” post.
So, can a visually impaired idiot (me) figure out what’s going on throughout a 10-episode drama miniseries, using only context, the language of cinema, and human empathy as tools?! Well, let’s take a deep Eastern European breath and find out, two episodes at a time…
JEDEN
If Shelley Duvall is ever reincarnated as a cute little Polish boy, then surely it would be in the form of Jeden’s “Pavel”. He is simply adorable, and definitely the rival of Cinema Paradiso’s “Toto” for the coveted title of: “Cutest Kid Ever”.
Anyway, I believe Jeden tells the dystopian nightmare of a university professor home schooling his precocious son in relative-isolation, as democracy outside crumbles and threatens to intrude on their peaceful coexistence. I think there’s even a shot of a pile of books burning in the street, which is the ultimate sign that liberty has died in your country. The intelligentsia are rounded up, including little Pavel, so the boy’s father goes on the run, eventually destroying an icon of the new regime.
Right, let’s look up the actual premise and see how well I did…
One second…
Ah, I did not do well at all! This is a debate about logic and theology, questioning what has to happen to an atheist in order for them to turn to religion. There is no breakdown of civil rights, and there is a simple, yet tragic, explanation for Pavel disappearing. Oh well, maybe next time I’ll get it right. Hmm, perhaps I should also write the version of the story I incorrectly perceived. Erm, a legally-distinguishable one, that is.
I did like the brutalist style of the mammoth visuals, with me feeling as though I could literally climb up the screen. See? You don’t need IMAX to create a sense of epic scale. Zbigniew Preisner’s icy score reminds me of Elliot Goldenthal’s work, the latter being one of my favourite film composers.
I was going to go on a rant about how my own country is fast becoming a digital dystopia itself, with the government now having access to my phones, my face needing to be scanned by robots to prove my identity, and my liberal words here surely soon to be “burned”, but that whole subject is now completely redundant, given that I read Jeden’s story all wrong.
I believe that last paragraph falls under the heading: “Having your cake and eating it”.
Whatever… onwards!
DWA
In a time when smoking in medical institutions was deemed acceptable…
Golly, Mr Kieslowski did not make this easy for me! It’s almost as if watching a dialogue-heavy foreign miniseries without an English translation and attempting to review it is a terrible, terrible, terrible idea. But, hey, I’m in too deep now. And you, patient reader, know too much.
The general vibe I got from Dwa, is that it’s about a doctor, played by the striking Krystyna Janda, who offers to relieve a terminally-ill patient’s agony with a large jar of, I assume, strong anaesthetic.
He chooses not to consume it.
The doctor, “Dorota”, confides in another doctor, possibly also her brother or ex-lover or kung-fu sparring buddy, about the assisted suicide. This second doctor, whom I shall henceforth refer to as: “Polish Sean Connery”, seeks further guidance on the matter. Dorota’s ethical crisis leads to her chain-smoking and drinking heavily, to the point of becoming almost catatonic.
I’ve been there. Except for the chain-smoking. And euthanasia.
Anyway, Polish Sean Connery finds a cure for the terminal-illness at the last minute, leading to the patient’s recovery and extra moral anguish in Dorota. I also wondered initially whether Dorota finds out that she herself has a terminal-illness, possibly cancer due to all the frigging smoking, and questions whether she is strong enough to take her own life, but I’m not so sure about that now.
The film ends with a massive kung-fu battle, where the evil drug baron and his legion of henchmen are defeated forever!
Oh wait…
Right, let us once again look up a proper synopsis and see how well I did.
One second…
Urgh, I got it wrong again! I swear I’m usually better at this. I did get the terminally-ill part right, but it’s her husband who’s dying and she’s wondering whether to abort her extramarital pregnancy if he pulls through. I suppose that means I also did get the ethical conundrum part right. Sort of. At least I know better for my next viewing.
I’m going to blame my incompetence today on the weather, which became dangerously hot over the weekend. All our brains have been scrambled! And some of us have been hitting the bottle hard just to get through it.
Cough.
I don’t have much to say in terms of Dwa’s filmmaking, as this one feels like a lesser of the ten episodes. It’s mostly just dreary point-and-shoot stuff, which you can find in any medical drama. I did find one nice visual moment though, which you should find below.
EPILOGUE
Well, this probably wasn’t the best thing to do on a cheery Sunday morning, but I’ve done it anyway. Only five more of these posts to go! Hopefully, I shall be in greater possession of my faculties for the rest.
The heat has eased-off today, so I shall take advantage of it by, erm, just doing what I’ve been doing whilst it’s been oppressively hot. The government took control of my phone yesterday to warn me of potential wildfires, so perhaps that is what will finally kill me. Or maybe it’ll be the diabetes. Or alcoholism.
Either way, good times!
Do stay in touch, darlings.
Pa!
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