Kieslowski's film, which won the FIPRESCI award and Jury Prize at the 1988 Cannes Film Festival, marked his international breakthrough. The brilliantly structured story explores the chance intersection of three lives: Jacek, a desperate young sociopath who has resolved to commit murder; Waldemar, the cruel and cynical taxi driver who becomes Jacek's target; and Piotor, the young idealistic attorney, fresh out of law school, who is eventually chosen to defend Jacek in court. At first we see only brief fragments of these characters travelling about the desolate urban landscape of Warsaw; nothing is explained directly. Once we discern the underlying connection between them, a feeling of dread builds, emphasized by composer Zbigniew Preisner's queasy score. The murder sequence, which lasts about ten minutes, tops that of Hitchcock's Torn Curtain (1966) as a portrayal of just how difficult it really is to kill someone. We see, for example, how Jacek is sickened by his own actions, even as he forces himself to finish the murder. The trial, which few Hollywood directors would have been able to resist building up into a melodramatic courtroom scene complete with a noble closing argument from the lawyer, is skipped over altogether. Kieslowski's brutal narrative economy is such that we pick up the story after the judgement has already been rendered. The second part of the film is devoted mainly to the preparations leading up to Jacek's execution; Kieslowski's coldly objective camera reveals the underlying cruelty of even commonplace rituals such as the prisoner being given one last cigarette to smoke. The film's impact is devastating.
Slawomir Idziak's cinematography cannot be praised highly enough. It's a rare example of self-consciously distorted imagery working entirely to a film's artistic benefit; on a metaphorical level, the sickly green and yellow filters and frequent use of wide angle lenses reflect the ugly and morally distorted life in Poland during that era; people have largely ceased to care for one another as individuals. At the same time, the technique serves to distance the viewer from the action onscreen, preventing us from identifying from any one character too closely, instead pushing us to think analytically about what's happening even as we are repulsed by it.
An hour-long version of the film was originally broadcast on Polish television as Episode Five of The Decalogue and is available on that DVD set. The changes between the two versions demonstrate how Kieslowski was not merely interested in cutting out or adding footage to fit a given running time, but in reinterpreting the story afresh for a different medium. The violence has of course been trimmed down for television, and many of the scenes have been shortened. At the same time, the television version opens with a voiceover monologue of the lawyer, Piotr, preparing for his exams. Piotr's voiceover overlapped with footage of Jacek wandering down the street emphasizes the future connection between the two characters in a way that's more obvious than in the feature film. Kieslowski also uses alternate takes of certain scenes; at the end of the television version, Piotr shouts "I hate it!" from his car, whereas in the feature film version he doesn't say anything. For me, the feature length-version has the advantage of being less obvious, relying on facial expressions and mise-en-scene to convey its ideas as much as the dialogue. For sheer economy and force, Kieslowski never topped his direction in A Short Film About Killing.
The Kino DVD edition marks the first time that the long sought-after film has been available on video in the U.S., and it's quite satisfactory. The title was licensed from MK2, so the content is identical to the Artificial Eye version released in the UK, including the transfer. The image is sharp with well-defined and accurate (I believe) given the deliberate color distortions created by the filters. The PAL-NTSC converted transfer on the Kino disc has minor artifacts inherent to the conversion process, but they are less pronounced than on the DVD of A Short Film About Love, and many viewers probably won't even notice them. The mono sound is clear with a full range. Supplementary features include trailers, a filmography, and interviews with the film¿s cinematographer Slawomir Idziak, fellow Polish director and collaborator Agnieszka Holland, and scholars Annette Insdorf and Antonin Liehm. If anything, the commentators could have offered more close analysis of the film, but their observations are all worthwhile nonetheless. Also included is a 1977 Kieslowski documentary short, "A Night Porter's Point of View," which consists mainly of an interview with a night porter obsessed with order and control, combined with footage of him in his daily life. "Regulations are more important than people," he states at one point, neatly embodying the authoritarian mentality that Kieslowski is criticizing in his morally and politically engaged cinema of the 1970s and 1980s. The problem with this short is that the point is too obvious and unvarying; in Kieslowski's best films, he respects the underlying contradictions and mysteries of his characters. That is certainly true of A Short Film About Killing. It's a masterpiece that repays multiple viewings, if you can bring yourself to watch it again.
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by James Steffen
