The Dekalog 5 may be considered a violent accusation against the death sentence, according to the fifth commandment "Thou shalt not kill": not by chance it puts the concept of a State fully complied with the provisions of an unjust law on the same plane as the figure of a Murderer. "But the law might not imitate the nature, it might correct it," states Piotr, the counsel for the defense, a real catalyst character, "the punishment is a form of vengeance aiming at returning evil for evil without preventing the crime. But in the name of whom the law takes its revenge? Really in the name of the innocent ones?". The horrifying and detailed sequences of the last half hour of a man sentenced to death give value to the uselessness of the deterrent function applied to the death penalty with the purpose of intimidating all potential criminals. "Desperate plights don't demand desperate remedies", Kieslowski says in his message, teaching us how unrighteous can be the act of disobedience to a commandment of God that judges punishment the same way as crime is judged. There are three different moral attitudes here: the innate sense of rebellion of the MURDERER aiming at rousing the hostile torpor of the surrounding environment; the strong sense of chronic indifference of the VICTIM inclined to laugh at other people's requirements; the deserving behavior of the COUNSEL FOR THE DEFENSE always ready to fight against adversity, in favor of human life. The struggle for life is ruthlessly vivisected all of the time; the characters are plunged into scenes of affliction and distress, in an urban landscape accented with greenish tones and seen in its own reflections through the windshield of a taxi. Everything in "Dekalog 5" conveys a dreadful sense of estrangement and isolation: descriptions of a waste undergrowth of violence and folly, scenes of precarious conditions of work, sinister appearances of buildings immersed in an anonymous aura of desolation, aimless wanderings through disenchanting environments. Jazek, the main character, is compelled to struggle with an opponent stronger than himself: a town completely wrapped in profound indifference, apparently hostile, deaf to all his mute calls for help, while a faded photo of a little girl in a first communion dress goes on gnawing his soul. He's irremediably directing his steps towards a disconnected route to damnation seen through the deformations of the 18 mm. wide angle camera lens aiming at distorting every details, altering the reality, making it fade out in remote and alien echoes. Kieslowski doesn't bring extenuating circumstances seasoned with honey-tongued tones of melodrama in favor of the defendant, differently from some Hollywood stereotypes like "I want to live" (by Robert Wise). He doesn't slip on the banana peel of useless pathetic scenes to extenuate Jazek's guilt and to mitigate the brutality of the crime, not interested at all in proximate psychological motivations to justify any display of extreme or violent behaviors and refusing to include any useless judicial proceedings. In other words, in Kieslowsky's opinion "a crime is always a crime": according to the principle of "par condicio" he puts the prosecutor on the same plane as the condemned man, using many signs or symbols to represent a society seen in the most sinister light. And we can't remain indifferent: even if we don't agree with him, Jazek's screams of anguish touch our hearts with pity in the same manner that Terri Schiavo's entreating eyes do.