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.

U.S. Marshals.

Review #1692: U.S. Marshals.

Cast: 

Tommy Lee Jones (Sam Gerard), Wesley Snipes (Mark J. Sheridan / Mark Roberts / Mark Warren), Robert Downey Jr (John Royce), Joe Pantoliano (Cosmo Renfro), Daniel Roebuck (Bobby Biggs), Tom Wood (Noah Newman), LaTanya Richardson (Savannah Cooper), Irène Jacob (Marie Bineaux), Kate Nelligan (Catherine Walsh), Patrick Malahide (Bertram Lamb), Rick Snyder (Frank Barrows), and Michael Paul Chan (Xiang Chen) Directed by Stuart Baird.

Review:

Do you remember The Fugitive? A long time ago, I was first introduced to it by the 1993 film, one of a string of adaptations of familiar television shows that have been quite prevalent over the past few decades. The original series had ran for four seasons from 1963 to 1967 involving the chase of an escaped convict (an innocent victim of blind justice) that goes from place to place trying to clear his name while an lieutenant bound to enforce the law is keen on catching him. The show was created by Roy Huggins (whose previous successes included Maverick, which also saw a film adaptation in the mid 1990s) with Quinn Martin producing the show; supposedly the idea for the show was based on the real-life trial of Sam Sheppard, who was convicted but subsequently acquitted of the murder of his wife, although Huggins denied this (at any rate, Victor Hugo's 1862 novel Les Misérables is likely the most evident inspiration). Oh, and it happened to be one of the first notable series finales ever broadcast on television, but that's besides the point. The reason I mention all of this is to provide context for when a film adaptation of the show eventually came to pass, one that modified details within an attempt at making a thriller capped by one big stunt (with a train, what else?). It did its own interpretation of the main two characters that retained a good deal of the claustrophobic feel of the series that works in character-driven drama with plenty of shots of Chicago that seemed distinct and useful when compared to the anthology premises used by the show. It wasn't a perfect movie by any means (since it inadvertently captured the fuzzy resolution of trying to cap a thriller with shaky explanations that the show also had), but it certainly received enough notice from folks to stand well among its time, even after nearly three decades. One of the benefactors from that success was Tommy Lee Jones, who won an Academy Award for his performance in that film; if you remember correctly, Jones spent screen time either paired with an elusive Ford or paired with the folks on the hunt for him that ranged from Joe Pantoliano to Johnny Lee Davenport (i.e. a supporting cast of five), and most of that supporting cast returns here. As with this film, Huggins served as one of the executive producers, while John Pogue served as screenwriter.

Are you surprised that this movie came out five years after the success of The Fugitive? Or is the real surprise the fact that this "spinoff" was even created at all? Nay, the true surprise is how average the movie is, a movie that is blandly unnecessary yet never infuriating enough to stop watching (if only because of the folks involved). In other words, if you've seen one movie about a fugitive on the run, watch The Fugitive. You could replace Jones and his character with any kind of generic hero and probably not lose much when it comes to entertainment value (incidentally, Stuart Baird had served as the editor on a variety of action films that ranged from Lethal Weapon (1987) to Demolition Man (1993) before debuting as director with Executive Decision in 1996). The movie builds on the idea of "innocent man on the run" in trying to add a conspiracy aspect to it that results in a very muddled movie that takes quite a while to really do anything of circumstance, and we are talking about a 131 minute movie. When one starts talking about innocent fugitives who are also former CIA operatives after we see him nearly get taken down by zip guns hidden in a prison plane, the brain starts to check out. The performances are relatively fine, in that the main group of Marshals roll with the clichés without turning into complete cardboard (i.e. you don't groan at the banter). However, Snipes certainly suffers the most when it comes to having to deal with the muddled focus, contrasting oddly with Jones in the levels of interest despite having (on paper) more to work with in terms of people to bounce off than Ford had to do in the first film (i.e. Jacob, although she is merely just okay here), and yet it still feels a bit hollow. I like Jones just fine for this film, but he clearly had better material to work with before, in that there isn't anything that really stands to interest a newcomer or one familiar with the first one. Of course, if one likes seeing Jones or Snipes as actors, one could be fine with what they see anyway, since bad movies with a favorite actor can theoretically still be interesting to view (for example, there are folks who probably can stomach Blade: Trinity for Snipes just as I remind myself of the amusement I share in thinking about Volcano (1997) with Jones in its monumental amusement factor). Downey has described this as one of his worst filming experiences, going so far as to call it "the worst action movie of all time", one that depressed him and made him rather be in prison than wake up on the set of it again. It likely doesn't help that he seems a bit miscast here, and we are talking about a movie that barely has that much energy to go with in the first place. Really though, a great deal of the movie could be summed up as "on paper", in that the idea of a film about folks pursuing people on the run could on paper be interesting, or maybe the idea of seeing where a guy like Gerald goes after having spent considerable time catching one innocent fugitive goes (on paper). Instead, one gets a mild movie that seems to have the odors of studio notes, where the demand to try and top the stunts that captured attention before go hand in hand with trying to wring originality out of familiar pulp. The swinging stunt onto a passing train is likely the most notable scene from the movie (the plane crash is a close second, but yeah), and if it is taken as just a movie for distraction without taking too much into its middling middle-ness, it might prove inoffensive enough to see once. As a whole, it is an unnecessary spinoff that doesn't equally doesn't do much to spin on what had been done years before while serving average in every other aspect that will either mean a movie one will pass on seeing or find to be a mild curiosity on a long boring night.

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

Movie Night: Three Colors: Red.

Review #603: Three Colors: Red.

Cast
Irène Jacob (Valentine Dusseau), Jean-Louis Trintignant (Joseph Kern), Jean-Pierre Lorit (Auguste Bruner), and Frederique Feder (Karin) Directed by Krzysztof Kieślowski (#601 - Three Colors: Blue and #602 - Three Colors: White)

Review
This is the last movie Kieslowski ever made, and the last color of this trilogy from France-Poland-Switzerland. Like the other two movies, Red is its own in terms of plot. It isn't as isolated as Blue or darkly comical as White, it is a more optimistic movie, a more passionate movie that utilizes its main two actors exquisitely. Jacob is interesting, but Trintignant is even more interesting to watch, his character grows as the film progresses, we first see him as just a bitter man who doesn't even care that his dog was run over, but eventually we learn more about this character, his former profession, and his secrets. And while that's happening, a subplot involving the other two actors and how their romance deteriorates so quickly. The movie has red hues, but it also has its own connections to the past two films, such as the bottle sequence. In Blue, Julie sees a lady is seen trying to put a bottle into a container. In White, a man is seen trying to put a bottle into a container as Karol watches, grinning. In Red, Valentine helps an old lady put the bottle into the container. This just shows the level of emotion that varies from film to film to film, as it goes from sadness to helping others, and the final scene connects the three up nicely. All three end in tears, and of the three Blue may be the most sad, but Red is the most poignant and the most fitting. All in all, the movies are well made, well acted, and are all important figments in a great trilogy.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.