December 27, 2022

The Double Life of Veronique.

Review #1945: The Double Life of Veronique.

Cast: 
Irène Jacob (Weronika / Véronique), Halina Gryglaszewska (The Aunt), Kalina Jędrusik (The Gaudy Woman), Aleksander Bardini (The Orchestra Conductor), Władysław Kowalski (Weronika's father), Guillaume De Tonquédec (Serge), Jerzy Gudejko (Antek), Philippe Volter (Alexandre Fabbri), Sandrine Dumas (Catherine), Janusz Sterninski (The Lawyer), Louis Ducreux (The Professor), and Claude Duneton (Véronique's father) Directed by Krzysztof Kieślowski (#601 - Three Colours: Blue, #602 - Three Colours: White, #603 - Three Colours: Red)

Review: 
"I have one good characteristic. I am a pessimist. I always imagine the worst. To me the future is a black hole."

Admittedly, no world cinema discussion can omit Krzysztof Kieślowski, although I certainly did not intend for the Three Colours trilogy to be the only films of his that I saw for eight years. They were three of four films he made that were not directly made in his native Poland, where he made a variety of features, documentaries, TV films, and shorts from 1966 until 1994, with varying levels of reach in his homeland due to the Communist regime that encompassed most of his life. He once made a series of ten films for television called Dekalog that were inspired by the Ten Commandments, and two of those entries inspired film extensions (all of these films were directed and released in 1988). The Double Life of Veronique was his first co-production, as it was a French-Polish-Norway production. As it had been since No End (1985), Kieślowski wrote the film with Krzysztof Piesiewicz, a lawyer who had defended political cases in Poland (specifically opponents of the Communist regime). Kieślowski brought in Sławomir Idziak (a regular on countless films of his) to do the cinematography, which results in a film that looks quite unworldly at times within its use of color and filters.

There is something quite incandescent about a film like this, a 98-minute feature that is bolstered by a tremendous acting performance that anyone would kill to have the chance for. The daughter of a physicist and psychologist, Jacob had her breakout role in this feature after years of stage work and a handful of feature appearances. She described her appearances in a Kieślowski feature (she lated starred in Red) as one where the camera was like a microscope, albeit without much time to talk about a character role (rather wanting her to follow her instincts). She proves quite magnificent here, providing emotional turmoil within two distinct spirits seen here (please note that the opening involving the Polish Weronika is actually voiced by Anna Gornostaj). Her observation about where her path has taken herself becomes our observation and our feeling. Volter is the puppeteer of fate and romance for what proves to be a charming match for Jacob in the anxious game of pursuit in life. It has often been called a film involving identity, love, and human intuition. Apparently, Kieślowski once noted that he was approached by a French girl about how much she was moved by the film, which made him realize it was worth all of the sacrifice so that one "should realize that she has a soul." This certainly will fit well within the curious people familiar with metaphysics when it comes to studying the fundamental natures of reality, whether that involves wondering what is out there...and what that "there" is like. Of course, folks less familiar in the realm of philosophy will at least see the intrinsic qualities that Kieślowski conveys in a movie dedicated as one of feeling rather than deep plotting. At least, that's how it seems to fit within the basic statements about what the film is: ever feel like there is someone that resembles you in spirit? Hell, there have been various stories about doppelgangers before and after this film, but there is something quite poetic about where the film wanders within its intertwined path of choice and sense. Kieślowski is essentially the master of his puppets, as reflected by a line in the film involving a puppeteer. Is it not fate to have an actor play a puppeteer (author too, but still) only to have the puppeteering scenes played by a different person? (Bruce Schwartz). Does one feel like they are in control of their life, or is there some sort of spirit that has the wheel? And how would one feel if they found out the truth about that? The movie is not one to lend answers to any sort of questions you may find from a film of feeling because it is a film built on existing to let you explore it yourself. Is one a man or is one merely a puppet to serve as some sort of cog in the game of infinite choices? The only answer may very well be found among the strings of choices and time.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

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