DEKALOG: EIGHT
Screenplay by
Good morning.
Heading out so early or just getting back?
Just getting back from Szczecin.
I'm telling you... - You got lucky?
A series commemorating the 1931 German flight
over the North Pole... the Polarfahrt.
- By zeppelin perhaps? - Three zeppelins! I tell you...
You must come by and show me. Good-bye.
I'll do that.
Good morning.
Good morning, Professor.
The dean would like a word with you.
Professor, please come in.
We've met.
In the States.
Am I right?
You've translated my works. - Almost all of them.
You speak Polish well! Here I've been grappling with English.
Grappling very well.
Mrs. Loranz is here on the research exchange program.
She's interested in your work.
She'd like to attend your class.
I'd be delighted.
Will you be starting today?
If you don't mind.
Excuse me for a moment.
Mrs. Elżbieta Loranz...
works for an American institute that researches
the fate of Jews saved during World War ll.
Now, back to our topic of "ethical hell."
Who'll be first today?
So far we have
two scenarios of a political nature
and one we'll simply say involves social conventions.
Yes?
Let's imagine the following situation: A man is dying of cancer.
This is our third scenario involving cancer this year.
He's being treated by a first-rate doctor who is...
and this is a crucial point... Catholic.
The doctor happens to live in the same building
as the patient and his wife.
The wife begins intruding upon the doctor at home...
to find out whether her husband
is going to live or die,
and if the latter, when.
The doctor can't tell her.
To do so would be to pass sentence.
Being a devout Catholic, he can't do that.
The wife becomes so persistent
that the doctor suspects her of having an ulterior motive.
His suspicions are correct.
The wife is pregnant... by another man.
Her husband doesn't know.
It's also her first pregnancy.
She'd been unable to become pregnant before.
The woman loves her unborn child...
but she also loves her husband.
If he doesn't die,
she'll be forced to get rid of the baby.
If he does die, she can have the child.
The doctor knows that, like it or not,
the child's life is in his hands.
I know how the story ends.
Warsaw's a small town.
To make your assignment more difficult,
I'll reveal that the child is alive.
And that may be what matters most in this story.
I'm sorry. I was too far away to record.
I was saying that the child is alive today,
and that I thought that was the most important thing.
I'd like you to try to describe
the character traits of those involved
and the motives for their actions.
It's all the more interesting
in that you and I know these character types,
though I daresay not the exact same people.
Yes, Professor.
Thank you.
Anyone else?
In that case, let's begin analyzing our earlier scenarios.
Yes?
You said it was the life of the child
that mattered most.
That's right.
I was thinking...
That is, if you don't mind me joining in.
Not at all. We all have equal rights here.
I'd like...
I'd like to recount a certain incident.
We'll be most interested to hear it.
My story has one drawback for you:
It took place in the past.
But it also has one virtue:
It's a true story.
Does what I said about the life of the child
bear some significance here?
Yes, it does, to some extent.
It's 1943.
February. Winter.
The main character is a six-year-old Jewish girl.
She's being sheltered in a Polish family's home,
but she has to leave there.
Her father's in the Ghetto.
His friends seek a new refuge for the girl.
A possibility presents itself,
but the new guardians lay down one condition:
The girl must show a certificate of baptism.
It's a cold, dark evening.
The girl's brought to the apartment of the people
who've agreed to act as godparents for the baptism.
It's a young Catholic couple.
The girl's frozen.
It took all afternoon to work their way across town.
She and her father's friend enter the apartment.
The husband's agitated, while the wife's composed.
They offer them hot tea.
The girl would love to drink it, but there's no time.
The priest is waiting, and curfew's approaching.
But the woman, instead of putting on her coat,
asks them to be seated.
Excuse me.
Please leave.
Thank you.
You said this was in 1943?
Yes, February 1943.
In Warsaw?
Yes.
Odyniec Street in Mokotów.
What happened then?
Yes, what happened then...
They sit down at a table.
The host paces around the table.
He and his wife glance at one another,
and the wife decides to say what the man can't bring himself to:
They have to go back on their promise.
After much reflection, they've decided they cannot lie
before the God in whom they believe...
a God who, it is true, enjoins acts of mercy
but also forbids bearing false witness.
Though they knew the purpose of the lie involved,
it was irreconcilable with their principles.
That was all.
The girl and her guardian stand up.
"Finish your tea," the woman tells the girl.
The girl takes a sip
but glances toward her guardian and puts down the cup.
Later, at the bottom of the stairs...
she sees him halt in the entryway to the building and...
"It's almost curfew," the girl says,
but he doesn't move.
Was there anyone else...
in the apartment?
Yes, an older man,
but his back was turned the whole time.
He may have been in a wheelchair.
You know any specific details?
The teacups were of good quality,
but each was different.
A green oil lamp stood unlit on the table.
The man kept his hands in his pockets
for the entire two or three minutes.
That's all in the way of details.
Anyone have any questions?
No?
Any doubts?
Go ahead.
The motive seems improbable
if this couple really were Catholics.
That wouldn't be false witness against a neighbor.
It's the only motive I know. It seemed genuine enough.
What other motives could there have been?
What do you think?
I don't know.
I don't understand.
I can't think of a motive justifying such a decision.
Yes?
Fear.
Perhaps hours earlier the Germans discovered a Jewish child there,
smashed its brains in,
and shot the Polish family that had sheltered it.
Fear, yes.
But is fear justification enough?
I was only suggesting a motive,
not judging.
We've taken this far enough.
I want each of you to prepare your own account
of the ethical issues involved here.
Young lady, I'll like you to make out a plausible case
for the woman's point of view.
Try and understand her.
Thank you, everyone.
It wasn't...
in Mokotów.
No.
It was in midtown.
Noakowski Street?
Yes.
It was you.
Yes, it was me.
And you're alive.
All my life I've thought...
Whenever I see someone playing with a gold chain,
I think, "God..."
You're alive.
They found me shelter across the river in Praga
with relatives of the man who brought me to you.
Moonshiners.
I spent two years with the smell of fermented potatoes.
They came to America with me, though the man's no longer living.
And you came here...
to watch my expression...
when you told that story.
I wanted to tell you when you were in the States.
I tried writing several times.
I tried to come here.
If you hadn't said what you did about the child...
I'd never have...
Yes...
I understand.
There's a theory that those who rescue others
have certain special traits.
Likewise for those who need rescuing.
Yes, I suppose such traits exist.
You have them.
I do?
Yes.
Your conduct...
after the incident involving me is well-known.
A number of my people are alive today thanks to you.
It's interesting how easily that girl in class saw through
that superficially Catholic reasoning.
There's an ashtray over there.
You don't smoke.
But I observe.
Where are you staying? Can I drop you off?
I recall how you once drove me all over New York City.
The Victoria. Just a block away, I'm afraid.
Then perhaps you'd come have dinner with me?
This is where you live?
No.
This is the place.
Yes.
Right here. That entryway.
You said, "Come on. It's almost curfew."
Elżbieta!
- What's so urgent? - I couldn't hear it ring.
I used to...
Forgive me, but has a woman been here?
No, not in a long time.
It seems a number of families live here.
Five.
So ring the right bell. We don't get along too well.
Have you come about the ad? Come in.
No, I'm looking for a friend.
She came upstairs. A tall, dark-haired woman.
Nutcase.
- I'm looking for a friend. - Nutcase!
She came up here!
Excuse me, is there another way out of this courtyard?
- You've come about the ad? - No.
No, there's isn't. This is a respectable building.
A friend of mine came in here.
- About the ad? - No. And she didn't come out.
- Then she didn't come in. - She did!
Elżbieta!
Nutcase...
My God. I've been looking for you.
I'm right here.
I got frightened.
I was afraid you'd never existed.
I'm here.
It's a horrible place.
I went up to my old apartment.
When I saw my father's friend so helpless here...
I resolved I'd never feel so afraid again.
Why have you never come here
in all these 40 years?
Didn't you want to see this place?
No.
It's too humiliating.
To need help?
We don't like to see witnesses to our humiliation,
even if it's only buildings.
We investigate, analyze, describe,
but how do you undo that injustice?
Why can some be saviors and others only the saved?
Do you know?
No, I don't.
Let's go.
You have a cozy place.
I'm on a diet.
I wasn't expecting anyone.
The person I remember
couldn't have grown into a woman like you.
But I did.
You gave me a scare
back there on Noakowski Street.
I'm sorry.
If you've come thousands of miles
in hopes of learning some secret,
you're going to be disappointed.
The reason I had to...
turn you away is quite banal.
The effect of that night on my own life
is another matter, but let's not go into that.
That man who paced the room with his hands in his pockets
was my husband.
He's been dead since 1952.
Yes, I know.
He was an officer in the Resistance at the time.
We'd been informed that the people planning to hide you
worked for the Gestapo,
and that through you, the priest, and your guardian,
the Gestapo would find its way to us, the organization,
resulting in a whole chain of arrests.
That's the whole secret.
It all sounds so terribly simple.
Later it turned out
that the information about those people had been wrong,
but they were nearly executed by the underground.
But you believed our excuse.
Of course you did.
And you've lived with that certainty for 40 years.
And I never knew you were still alive.
I left you all alone.
I sent you...
to almost certain death.
And I knew what I was doing.
Yes...
you're right.
There's no idea, no cause, nothing
that could be more important than the life of a child.
What do you tell your students...
in terms of how to live?
I don't tell them.
I'm there to help them find it on their own.
Find what?
Goodness.
It exists.
I believe it's there in every human being.
Situations bring out good or evil.
That evening...
didn't bring out the good in me.
And who's the judge of that?
The one who lives...
inside each of us.
I've never read anything in your works about God.
I don't attend church.
I don't use the word "God."
But one can believe without having to use words.
People are free.
They can choose.
If they want to...
they can set God aside.
And what takes his place?
Here on earth, solitude...
and there...
Try and think it through.
If there is nothing...
if there really is nothing...
in that case...
Yes.
I know.
Excuse me.
- May I? - Please.
I didn't know you had company. Good evening.
I just wanted to show you those stamps.
They're beautiful. Really.
Please tell your son if you see him.
He was always interested in these things.
I'll do that.
Polarfahrt, three zeppelins, 1931.
Exactly.
Good night.
Thank you very much.
He collects stamps?
It's more than that, I think.
He sometimes shows me his stamps
the way other people show off their grandchildren
or pictures of their children.
In that sweater he looks like a neighbor.
Yes, he's a neighbor.
In fact, the doctor and his patient
that you heard about in my class today
live in this building too.
Interesting building.
Like any other.
"Everyone has a story to tell..."
and so on...
Exactly.
Thank you.
Do you know the people
who were going to take me in?
Yes...
if you really want to know.
You think I could see them?
You'd like to?
Very well.
I'll take you there tomorrow.
It's a little tailor's shop across the river.
But I won't go in with you.
I've seen them only once since the war.
I said I was sorry.
There was nothing else I could say.
But it wasn't enough.
If it makes no difference to you...
perhaps you could stay here tonight...
I have a spare room.
I rarely have guests.
What do you think?
- What are you doing?
There's this guy on TV.
I want to prove I'm better.
That was the Rubber Handstand. He can't do it.
How do you do that?
Anyone can do it. It's a matter of practice.
Try bending backwards.
A little more.
Can't go any farther? - No.
Too late, then.
You can't learn now.
Excuse me.
Will you join me for breakfast? Something other than...
"Day 15... two ounces cottage cheese
and black coffee."
Yes.
- I'm up early like you. - I'll join you.
For a normal breakfast?
The room...
the room I slept in...
was that your son's room?
Yes, it was.
He doesn't live here, does he?
No.
He didn't want to be with me.
Did you buy these flowers?
Yes.
I saw you putting fresh ones on the table.
Thank you.
Where is he?
To put it simply...
far away from me.
This is it.
I'll do some shopping and come back for you.
May I help you?
I'd like to talk to you.
Good Lord! Me?
About what?
My name's Elżbieta Loranz.
I don't know you.
No, but we almost met during the war.
You were... - Hold on.
I don't want to talk about what happened during the war.
I don't want to talk...
about what happened after the war.
I don't want to talk about now.
I can make you a dress...
a coat, or a suit.
Why don't you pick out a style?
You were going to hide me. I wanted to thank you.
You have your own material?
It's so hard to buy anything these days.
I was six years old. It was February 1943.
Yes, I was...
22 at the time.
What will it be? A coat?
Your magazines are very old.
Would you be offended if I sent you something more recent?
No.
Someone brought me this one from abroad too,
but that was many years ago.
After that it was no longer possible.
You really won't talk to me?
Really.
I hung around, just in case.
He wanted to make me a coat.
I thought he might.
He's been through a lot. Perhaps too much.
What a strange country!
You were praying last night.
Yes.
Directed by
Cinematography by
Produced by
Music by
Art Direction by
Sound by
Edited by
Digital Restoration by