There has been a serious debate recently about whether the Ten Commandments belong in public schools and/or federal buildings. Opponents say it's an unconstitutional mix of church and state.

A popular argument among those who favor it, however, is that the Commandments are a universal set of moral statutes that transcend religious boundaries. Such seems to be the opinion of Krzysztof Kieslowski, the brilliant Polish director behind The Decalogue, one of the seminal artistic achievements in the history of cinema and, as far as I'm concerned, the ideal Passover/Easter season epic.

The work known as The Decalogue certainly is unconventional. It comprises ten parts that each runs about one hour in length and deals thematically with a corresponding Commandment and stars a different set of characters. All of the segments are set in the same world -- present-day Poland -- and occasionally intersect, but in general, these are ten unrelated episodes, each demonstrating an artistic style so singularly impressive it becomes hard to believe that all of the films can boast the same director.

But, what a director.

Kieslowski is gifted at establishing a mood that's calm and suspenseful, exciting and realistic, with profound results. He allows his viewers to sit back and contemplate what the characters are going through without rushing them along at breakneck speed -- a talent, which I will go on wishing Hollywood hacks could emulate.

The Decalogue is not by any means a religious film, nor is it an easily tractable morality play. The characters are not sinners and saints, but people, as unique and multidimensional as in reality. We empathize with their stories, because they reflect our own -- each inviting a torrent of contemplation and discussion. Kieslowski utilizes the Commandments, but never in an obvious or theatrical way.

For example, The Decalogue Part VII ("Thou Shall Not Steal") could have been a morally simplistic story. Many films have reduced the subject to an ethical crossroads, forking towards an obvious right and wrong, the latter practically illuminated with a bright red neon arrow. But, Kieslowski and his co-writer Krzysztof Piesiewicz are careful to avoid the played-out themes; instead, what they have created are fascinating, thought-provoking narratives that each corresponds to its respective Commandment, but in an indirect or ambiguous way.

Thus, VII follows the attempt of a teen mother to "kidnap" her child from the clutches of her possessive mother, who has dominated the affection of her granddaughter. In this instance, is the Commandment cautioning the teen or the mother or both? Kieslowski doesn't answer this. Neither does he answer the question of whether the imperative of Part V ("Thou Shall Not Kill") is directed towards the murderous central figure or the government.

Kieslowski means for us to reflect on and possibly reevaluate our own conceptions of morality, not to hand-feed us his. His characters may be Polish, but they could be Chinese, British, Guatemalan, Ethiopian, or American. His are universal stories about individuals who are merely trying to survive, as they struggle everyday with concrete moral shades of gray, rather than rigid, dogmatic abstractions.