Movie: A Short Film About Love - Krótki film o milosci (Krzysztof Kieslowski, 1988)
There is nothing wrong per se with ostentatiously presenting love as an unattainable and incomprehensible thing whose pursuit leads to anguished obsessions and sexual humiliation, but such visions are in certain European films as much driven by marketing as they are by conviction. It allows these films to sell themselves as non-American, non-prudish, and enlightened and courageous enough to present the real unvarnished truth of romance. For a long while, A Short Film About Love seems like a superior version of one of these films. However that changes when towards the end Kieslowski repeats in context the film's mysterious opening shot. You would not necessarily compare A Short Film About Love to The Sixth Sense or The Usual Suspects, but Kieslowski's decision to present that particular shot as the key shot, the one that makes this a film 'about love', does completely change the tone of the film and makes us reconsider what (and who!) it has been about. What was up until then a cynical and ironic film, becomes a sincere, hopeful and even somewhat corny one. Its corniness however is undercut by its self-reflexive criticism. Kieslowski is aware of the mode he is working in, and his final scenes force you to reflect on why his depiction of obsession and humiliation could be perceived as being about love, rather than about obsession and humiliation.
The obsessed one is Tomek (Olaf Lubaszenko), a naive and (emotionally and sexually) inexperienced 19-year old who lives with the mother of his best friend. We never see his best friend, but we learn that before going on a UN peace mission in Syria, he and Tomek were spying on Magda (Grazyna Szapolowska), who lives in the apartment building across the street and sleeps a lot with different men. We get the impression that this started out as a playful prank between two teens, but has grown for the lonely Tomek into an obsession he doesn't know how to control and is ashamed about. It's a great performance by Lubaszenko, who treats his telescope (stolen from a wearhouse to replace the insufficient binoclars of his friend) with the seriousness of a professional photographer and minutely prepares his watching sessions. Throughout he remains in a state of fearful confusion, knowing only that he doesn't know what to do with his feelings (he has by now even stopped masturbating), or what to do if he is discovered by either Magda or his caretaker.
We see a lot of Magda through Tomek's point of view. The camera follows her in long scenes as she walks around in her apartment, giving us a great understanding of why these nightly rituals are so exciting for Thomas. Beyond Magda's beauty, the design of her apartment adds a mystery to her actions. Its main windows are divided by a sizable brick wall which makes her often disappear from Tomek's (and our) view for a few (or more) tantalising seconds. Her bedroom is also not perfectly located for Tomek to get the most ideal view of her actions there, only further contributing to his sweatiness. One day it all becomes too much, and when they meet on the street (an encounter contrived by Tomek), he comes clean to her. She is both repulsed and flattered, forcing him to put his money where his mouth is. Naturally, he is incapable of that, leading to some of the most uncomfortable scenes of 'romantic' and sexual embarassment I've seen in movies. That Kieslowski makes the transition from these scenes to the eventual warmth of the film's end feel so natural and simple is a great testament to his skills as both a director and a screenwriter.
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