Review of Blind Chance (1987) by Joe H — 07 Jul 2015

I have a confession to make before this review: I love Krzystof Kieslowski. Within each of his bleak, pessimistic pictures is a glimmer of something incredibly unusual, almost magic, and that is the magic which leaves you intrigued after all of his features. Even in the grimmest moments of his later French works, especially in the case of Three Colours White when the protagonist's ex-wife calls to make sure he knows "how a real man makes me sound", there is a journey of changing one's identity entirely and rejuvenation in a bizarre, reverse Bourne type way. Blind Chance is no different: the story of one young man's inconsequential moment to catch a train which, as chance would have it, is the moment that changes everything.

Indeed there is something youthful and rebellious about Kieslowski himself here as well as Boguslaw Linda's Witek. The wonderfully edited opening montage of key details from Witek's life seem completely unimportant to the narrative, but an everyday occurrence of almost missing the train is followed with intense detail, the camera panning the ripple effect of a coin dropping from a pocket across the floor to a beggar. Every sly movement here will feel like an amateurish step towards the same strokes which are done more masterfully in The Decalogue or Kieslowski's magnum opus, the Three Colours trilogy, but if you are unfamiliar with those works this will feel nuanced. Certainly whilst this is not Kieslowski's debut feature, it certainly feels not completely accomplished: filmed in 1981 but censored by the government for 6 years from release, the film was made before Kieslowski experimented with parallel lives in The Decalogue or worked with his writing partner Krzystof Piesiewicz, Kieslowski seems to be experimenting with his narrative here far more than in any of his other works.

However, Kieslowski is certainly not experimenting with his portrayal of the various organisations and political affiliations, putting his work on a decade-long documentary career to best use. Effectively the consequences at the train station leave Witek in three parallel lives: joining the Communist party, assisting the resistance, or remaining a neutral public service doctor. Through visuals alone, Kieslowski could entice every member of the audience into any of those decisions and make them seem ethically right. The grateful old man that persuades Witek of the great opportunities which lie in the bright offices of the Politburo, the warm welcome of old friends charitably assisting the anti-Communist resistance, and the rosy cheeked medical colleague Olga, played with warmth by Monika Gozdzik, providing a neutral alternative to the choices, all of which seem the ideal direction for Witek's life to take at first glance. Of course the outcomes of those decisions are bleak in a typically Kieslowski fashion, and in keeping with his political ideologies makes death the fate for Witek's neutrality.

As a record of its time and setting, Blind Chance hardly panders to a universal audience, yet nor does the script turn into a history lesson. Kieslowski's goal is not to educate his audience about the maxims or backstories of the Party or resistance, but to show the humanity behind each of the portraits. This is a slight detriment to audiences viewing the film from thirty years or so later, that you have to give your European history of Communism a little refresher. However there is not much more needed about the culture of a different era than say understanding that it was more acceptable to display a love story involving heroic portrayals of white supremacists when D. W. Griffith made Birth of a Nation. An awareness of the Politburo's rule is fairly essential for enjoyment of the film, and if you don't believe that you can see some of the reviews on IMDb where some user critics clearly could not imagine a different culture than 'Murican.

But a fair criticism of the film is the sensation of its runtime, rather than the runtime itself. At just under two hours, Blind Chance is not a substantially long time by any means: however, narratively speaking, the film is one man's life three times over, and boy does it feel that long! This can be forgiven as a step in Kieslowski's evolution as a filmmaker, who would later split the simultaneously-set stories of The Decalogue into ten one-hour films as a television series, but it is distinctly noticeable. There are moments in the restored cut, produced in time for Martin Scorsese's Masterpieces of Polish Cinema season, which have been returned into the film to show as much footage as possible, and yet narratively speaking a good chunk could still be taken out, particularly of the languid scene at Communist authority Werner's house.

Lifetimes aside, Blind Chance is an important work, blending the parallel lives narrative of O. Henry's short story Roads of Destiny and applying it to contemporary Poland, with a political movement which lies at the heart of a young man's fate. If you have been dazzled by Kieslowski's later French works such as the Three Colours trilogy or The Double Life of Veronique, this will show the same more juvenile fingerprints. Worth a place in the history of cinema and on your DVD shelf.