The Fifth Seal (1976)

Ever heard one of those 'X walks into a bar' jokes? Hungarian filmmaker Zoltán Fábri's "The Fifth Seal" (1976) certainly reminded of one, for it begins with such a premise. However, the film and the subject it tackles are hardly a laughing matter, despite an occasional garnishing of some wry humour, sometimes extending to full blown hilarity. Fábri's film exposes an inherently disturbing truth about all of us by throwing a variant of a "What would you do?" type of question, one that will have you struggling for an answer, much like the baffled characters in this powerful film.

It is a war-torn environment in 1940s Hungary and an unnamed fascist regime is gradually taking control of the country. Five men of different occupations sit across a table in a local bar, drinking and conversing about several things. Despite the violent atmosphere outside, the men try to make merry and have a good time but a lot of their conversation, not surprisingly, revolves around the tense state of affairs and the shape of things to come. Amid fears of air-raid warnings, the men engage in interesting discussions that focus on the very foundations of war and dictatorship, stemming from differing ideologies and from an individual point of view.

In such a scenario, one of the men, Gyuricza Miklós (Lajos Öze), (curiously referred to as Mr. Auricular in the English translated subtitles) asks a hypothetical question, strictly from an individual perspective, that shatters everyone's composure, rattles their ethical beliefs, and puts them in a tough spot. The answer is seemingly simple, but they slowly realize, that like life itself, there are no easy answers to everything.

"The Fifth Seal" plays out like a claustrophobic chamber piece, with the action mostly confined to the dimly lit bar, barring a couple of very important sequences during which it shifts elsewhere. With the way the men assertively engage in argumentative dialog, one is instantly reminded of Sidney Lumet's 1957 masterpiece, "12 Angry Men". The prevailing atmosphere of violence and dread is never shown on screen and merely suggested most effectively by way of sounds of carnage outside, leaving the visuals to our imagination, a device often used by Hitchcock.

The exchange between the characters is extremely thought-provoking, compelling the viewer to look at life from diverse lenses, making their reactions wholly relatable. The conversations and subsequent situations may seem slightly contrived to push the narrative arc forward or make specific points, but they accurately reflect the helplessness and the real struggles faced by the common man in the face of an oppressive regime with their very humanity put to the test.

Pertinent questions regarding morality and conscience are raised and weighed against pragmatism and the need to survive, maybe not for the self, but for some others who they may be responsible for. The discussion points put forth are essentially from the perspective of both, the ruler and the ruled, the oppressor and the oppressed, their respective roles as members of a society, contrasted against their roles as altruistic human beings looking for salvation.

Fábri's film is a complex one, however, and doesn't keep things limited to this debate. It covers other ground related to the thematic core, and explores down to the specifics, given these characters' family backgrounds and individualities. With unanticipated twists and turns in the narrative, viewer expectation and the ability to judge is constantly toyed with, and the distinction between right and wrong is further blurred, almost obliterating the absolute nature of it, and providing a very convincing angle of subjective morality.

We are given a brief look at the individual lives of these characters, thereby making us think again and at times take back our initial opinions about some of them. Most noteworthy are the stories of Mr. Kovacs (Sándor Horváth) and Gyuricza himself. The part in which Kovacs loses sleep over the seed planted by Gyuricza's query and keeps harping about it, plays out to hilarious effect, reminding of Ruben Östlund's excellent "Force Majeure" (2014). However, his final decision, while it seems to belie expectations on the surface, doesn't seem all that far-fetched. The most intriguing story is that of Gyuricza, however. A close look at his life makes us exonerate him, despite his most cynical attitude, and seemingly unsavoury decisions in some trying moments further in the film.

Simple examples are provided to explain in a very cogent manner, as to how wars really start, and at some point the ability to reason is lost and proving oneself right becomes the sole purpose of any conflict. One of the highlights in "The Fifth Seal" is the shocking but very enlightening conversation between one of the Fascist officers and a mysterious individual (Zoltán Latinovits), dressed in civilian attire, who appears to be his leader and mentor. His chilling words dwell on the very backbone of autocracy, and a key to mass psychological manipulation that helps a fascist regime thrive and flourish. Crushing a man's spirit and taking away his self respect is enough to crush a whole society.

"The Fifth Seal" is a well-acted, expertly directed masterpiece of Hungarian cinema, a fascinating film that hits hard and leaves us with plenty to think about.

Score: 10/10

The Fifth Horseman is Fear (1965)

Set during the Nazi occupation of Prague, Czech filmmaker Zbyněk Brynych's "The Fifth Horseman is Fear" (1965) presents a riveting portrait of an atmosphere of paranoia and impending doom, as an old Jewish doctor is faced with a moral dilemma that could cost him his life. The title derived from the Biblical four horsemen of the apocalypse, refers to the German politics of fear that resulted in an environment of all round dread and unrelenting chaos.

Dr. Braun (Miroslav Machácek in a tour de force performance), forbidden to practise medicine any longer, is now reduced to being a sort of warehouse-man for the Nazis, cataloging confiscated property of Jews who have already been sent packing. Aware and apprehensive of what's to come, Braun constantly looks over his shoulder and sometimes hallucinates about the secret police following him. When an injured resistance fighter is brought to his attention for some treatment, Braun is faced with a quandary of a lifetime. Should he serve his lost profession in the name of humanity and face the naturally disastrous consequences, or should he go on living like a zombie puppet of the Nazis?

Of course, he chooses to jump right in, to heal a wound after several years, his hands trembling, both out of fear of messing up the job for lack of practice, as well as out of fear of certain death if reported. The question of keeping the deed under wraps proves to be a daunting one, as unavoidable physical pain threatens to make the patient scream and give everything away. Morphine would help, but getting a hold of it in such times proves to be a herculean task, let alone the tough job of hiding the patient from the secret police who often raid the building, given that the neighbours are just as helpless, and the sneaky building secretary/warden, Mr. Fanta (Josef Vinklár) could very well be an informant!

It is astonishing how dense the framework of the film is, for a modest run time of just above 90 minutes. The film begins on a deliberately off-kilter note with random shots of either crowded streets or empty back alleys, with suspicious looking men keeping a watch, edited in a seemingly haphazard manner. There are shots of fascist posters on the wall, urging citizens to report information, presumably about the resistance, in order to ensure their safety. 

A rather disquieting piano score accompanies the introduction of Dr. Braun in the confiscated property registration department. It is a nightmarish setting, with large walls full of clocks, a depressing symbol of time itself being snatched away from hapless Jews. Other goods such as musical instruments and other belongings occupy the huge office building as the employees go about their jobs like the living dead.

The unusual editing and visual technique establishes a mood of chaos and uncertainty at the outset. It is a situation where almost everything remains unclear. A sense of tension looms, as most others await new regulations, while Dr. Braun seems to be certain where it's all headed, and it doesn't seem to be a pretty sight. Despite the setting being of the time of the rise of the Nazis, Brynych refrains from highlighting any of the actual events of the war or the holocaust.

The recurring shot of a smoking chimney perhaps reflects the grim picture of the holocaust, while the primary focus remains on the few who are still at an arm's length from inevitable doom, but living under tremendous mental torment. The psychological anguish resulting from the lack of stability in a society crumbling under turbulent conditions is the focal point of Zbyněk Brynych's film.

That the situation is wholly unpredictable is demonstrated in a brilliant sequence in which the injured resistance fighter is first discovered by the young boy in the building. He is seen from a distance riding his bicycle and falling off repeatedly. The boy is initially amused at the sight, thinking it to be some kind of a real life comedy of a bungling drunk, until he realizes what it is upon a closer look. Also during Braun's quest for morphine, one can see how most citizens are calming their nerves with booze while some others can't seem to control their debilitating mental state.

Dr. Braun's apartment building itself gives off an air of some kind of a claustrophobic chamber of death, with its echoing sounds of screaming inhabitants, crying children, and constantly fading lighting. Those low angle shots looking up at the winding staircase, sometimes with neighbours staring down suspiciously, while in turn evoking suspicion, resembles something straight out of a horror flick. These neighbours are another eclectic bunch and we meet them only briefly earlier on.

But in a rare masterstroke, Brynych completely shifts our attention to the other building tenants and their inside lives, instead of Braun in the final half hour when the suspense is at its peak. It is noteworthy how familiar the audiences get with these characters in a short period of time. It's just a slight letdown but not a major hitch, that in a drama so realistic and grave in nature, a couple of these characters are portrayed like unrealistic caricatures, notably Fanta, the warden and the cantankerous Mrs. Kratochvilova with her rabbits.

It is said that Brynych modeled this film as a veiled attack on Soviet communism, while narrating a story set against the backdrop of the Nazi occupation. "The Fifth Horseman is Fear" is an intense film that works either ways, given the similar oppressive political ideologies. With an intriguing central moral conflict, it succeeds in showcasing the resulting devastation, not of the physique, but of the psyche of man, in a very compelling manner.

Score: 9/10

Kanal (1957)

Films depicting the horrors of war are aplenty. Some take us right into the battlefield and make us witness the rigours faced by the soldiers in battle. Then there are others that focus on the plight of civilians during an ongoing war. There are also a few others that paint a disturbing picture of the aftermath of war, and its effects on both, the soldiers as well as the civilians. Many of these films either showcase only the carnage with liberal doses of violence, keeping the characters at a good distance, or make us feel at home with the characters, intermittently shifting focus to the killing and mayhem.

Polish filmmaker Andrzej Wajda accomplishes a rare feat with a film that clocks to only about 95 minutes. He gives us a fully fleshed out product that not only makes us well acquainted with its ensemble of characters as individually recognizable and relatable people, but also takes us right in the middle of all the pandemonium, making us feel the bombs, the guns, the madness and in this case, waist-deep grime of a sewer!

The year is 1944, and the Warsaw uprising is nearing its end. A small company of 43 surviving members of the Home Army resistance fighters comprising of soldiers as well as civilians led by Lt. Zadra (Wienczyslaw Glinski) find a new position in the remains of a half destroyed bourgeois house in an abandoned territory. The German army is on the warpath, capturing most of the land and marching on ahead, bombing and evacuating almost all Polish territories. The company has an eclectic bunch of fighters, males and females of different age groups and aspirations. Some act as messengers and helpers, others as the fighting frontmen, and they even have the wide-eyed passionate music composer Michal (Vladek Sheybal) among them.

"Kanal" tells the harrowing tale of the struggle of these brave people, to survive the brutal onslaught of the Nazis, especially of their last-ditch attempt to retreat downtown, through long underground sewers when they are surrounded and all hope seems lost. Only the task isn't going to be an easy one, as it becomes clear once the wading through the muck commences.

Wajda wastes no time and takes us right into the action, by announcing that what would follow is the chronicling of the final hours of this company of the resistance members. He keeps it compact and fleeting but never once does anything feel inadequate in Jerzy Stefan Stawiński's screenplay that covers practically all the facets and sentiments associated with a situation such as this. It is a chilling moment when an already desensitized Michal makes that final call to his house in the nick of time before we hear his wife say that the Germans are coming to get them and the line gets disconnected. Some others steal amorous moments and have a little party before the imminent doom.

It is heartening to see that almost all of them are ready and know that they may die soon, and yet, find some light moments to laugh about in the face of adversity, just as the music composer finds a piano and starts smashing some tunes to ease the moment. It isn't long before we find ourselves in the midst of smouldering rubble as the attack catches the party unawares when some of them are catching up on some rest and others trying hard to find a drop of water to shave!

The journey through the sewers is the toughest ordeal the company has to go through. Apart from plodding through endlessly long stretches of human waste, they have to save themselves from the surprise attack of poisonous gas released by the Germans in the sewers to either kill the escapees or bring them out of hiding! The script at this juncture is dripping with pure genius, as Wajda and Stawiński add some clever humour in small doses that accentuates the fearlessness of the group. Take for instance the scene when Michal the composer just commences what could be his final journey through the sewers and exclaims how amazing the acoustics were, down there! There's a good dose of such fleeting gallows humour in the face of certain death in the form of crackling dialog, enough to garner applause for the inspiring bravado on display.

Such elements in a film sometimes attract criticism for being unrealistic, but considering that the script has been helmed by a man who was himself part of a resistance operation and survived in the sewers, his credibility can hardly be doubted. Much like the initial display of courage is entirely believable, so is the gradual draining of enthusiasm. As the gas fumes begin to destroy the troops in body and spirit, their hopes begin to dwindle and so does their frame of mind. Differing mindsets and conflicting opinions regarding the code of honour and general ethics result in deception and animosity. It is an accurate depiction of fear, madness and a decline of morals.

While the writing shimmers with intelligence and well-timed twists, Wajda's visual portrayal of it shines in the darkness, literally! The first half gives us a tour of the dusty ruins on the exterior, and the entire second half practically takes place in the dark sewers. It gives the director ample opportunity to show off some fine chiaroscuro lighting effects and an effectively eerie use of shadows. The underground passage is unknown to most, much like their fate. The surprise gas attack adds to the chaos. Wajda taps this setting extremely well to create a hellish, surreal atmosphere; a seemingly endless, Kafkaesque tunnel of no escape. The resulting sense of confusion and hysteria that prevails, is aptly demonstrated by the filmmaker. He owes a lot to his actors as well, who seem to lose themselves in their characters, making you feel their predicament.

"Kanal" is a tragic, disturbing masterpiece of Polish cinema, one that is so powerful that you might feel the need to play something cheerful post the film to lighten up the mood.


Score: 10/10