This goal is to capture what lies within us, but there’s no way to filming it. You can only get nearer to it. It’s a great subject literature. It’s probably the only subject in the world. Great literature does not only get near to it, it’s in a position to describe it. I suspect there are a few hundred books in the world which have managed to achieve a full description of what lies within us. Camus wrote books like that. Dostoevsky wrote books like that. The greek dramatists, Faulkner, Kafka (…). Literature can achieve this, cinema can’t. It can’t because it doesn’t have the means. It’s not intelligent enough. Consequently, it’s not equivocal enough. Yet, at the same time, while being too explicit, it’s also too equivocal…[a bottle of spilt milk or a cigarette lighter lit] will never mean anything else. If once in ten thousand times it turns out to mean something else, that means somebody has achieved a miracle. Welles achieved that miracle once. Only one director in the world has managed to achieve that miracle in the last few years and that’s Tarkovsky. Bergman achieved that miracle a few times. Fellini achieved it a few times. Ken Loach, too, in Kes. (Kieslowski on Kieslowski, edited by Danusia Stok)
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