Die zwei Leben der Veronika

I still remember over 10 years ago watching this movie all alone in a theatre with no one else (Monday afternoon or some other week day time). Irene Jacob, the streets of France and Poland, the editing, the love scenes, the plastic ball reflections, and especially the music all are so beautiful that actually made me shivered and stunned.

Kieslowski's in another world now. I always worry whether it's possible to watch another movie that struck me so badly. A million thanks to him for showing me the most beautiful film of my life (probably).

p.s. this film has only been released in VHS - so ridiculous, a shame of the industry.

Krzysztof Kieslowski's The Double Life of Véronique (originally titled La Double Vie de Véronique) might be the best film in the late director's accomplished oeuvre. Perhaps most lauded for his monumental Three Colors trilogy, Kieslowski first explored themes of duality, synchronicity, and fate in this cinematic reverie. Irène Jacob, also the star of Red, handles a double role as two women cut from the same metaphysical cloth -- the Polish Veronika and the French Véronique. Her presence as both women is at once whimsically childlike and sensually melancholic; relentlessly alluring, it is easy to see why she became Kieslowski's muse. Jacob is perfectly fluid in the shift between characters, an embodiment of ideal femininity, as dreamlike as the tone of the entire film.

Actor and director are symbiotic, relying on hazy, autumnal ambiance and mood for narrative, utilizing a subtle minimalist approach to dialogue. This is fine art, unlike heavy-handed Hollywood productions. The tone is consistently ambiguous -- emotionally resonant, to be sure, but beyond a vaguely somber, wistful undercurrent, the movie allows the viewer to fill the "empty space" with his or her own thoughts and feelings. It's a true testament to Kieslowski's mastery, and few films are ever so transcendentally sublime.

The lack of this masterpiece's availability on DVD is a sad affair. There are rumors of a release in 2005, but for fans of movies like Amélie hungry for something with a little more depth, The Double Life of Véronique comes most highly recommended -- even if you have to search high and low for a copy on VHS.

Much of this is an adoration of French actress Iréne Jacob by Director Krzysztof Kieslowski; in a sense it is a homage to her, one of the most beautiful actresses of our time and one of the most talented. If you've never seen her, this is an excellent place to begin. She has an earnest, open quality about her that is innocent and sophisticated at the same time so that everything a man might want in a young woman is realized in her. Part of her power comes from Kieslowski himself who has taught her how she should act to captivate. He has made her like a little girl fully grown, yet uncorrupted, natural, generous, kind, without pretension, unaffected. She is a dream, and she plays the dream so well.

The movie itself is very pretty, but somewhat unaffecting with only the slightest touch of blue (when the puppeteer appears by the curtain, the curtain is blue, and we know he is the one, since she is always red). The music by Zbignew Preisner is beautiful and lifts our spirits, highlighted by the soprano voice of Elzbieta Towarnicka. But the main point is Iréne Jacob, whom the camera seldom leaves. We see her from every angle, in various stages of dress and undress, and she is beautiful from head to toe. And we see her as she is filled with the joy of herself and her talent, with the wonder of discovery and the wonder of life, with desire, and with love.

Obviously this is not a movie for the action/adventure crowd. Everything is subtle and refined with only a gross touch or two (and no gore, thank you) to remind us of the world out there. Véronique accepts the little crudities of life with a generous spirit, the flasher, the two a.m. call, her prospective lover blowing his nose in front of her... She loves her father and old people. She is a teacher of children. She climaxes easily and fully. To some no doubt she is a little too good to be true. And she is, and that is Kieslowski's point: she is a dream. And such a beautiful dream.

An actress playing the character twice in a slightly different way has occurred in at least two other films in the nineties: there was Patricia Arquette in David Lynch's Lost Highway (1997) and Gwyneth Paltrow in Sliding Doors (1998). It's an appealing venture for an actress of course and when the actress is as talented as these three are, for the audience as well.

Note that as Weronika/Véronique is in two worlds, Poland and France, so too has always been Kieslowski himself in his real life. It is interesting how he fuses himself with his star. This film is his way of making love to her.

Kieslowski died in 1996 not long after finishing his celebrated trilogy, Trois Couleurs: Bleu (1993); Rouge (1994) and Bialy (White) (1994). We could use another like him.

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Only a few of the previous comments on this movie has mentioned the use of music. Just like in Trois Couleurs Bleu, the music of La Double vie de Véronique is very indivisible from the film: the visual and the auditive form a united whole and also elements of it are directly part of the story. And when it comes to music made for film, Zbigniew Preisner's powerful score for this one is as good as it gets.

When there is little dialogue, it is not just the images and expressions on Irène Jacob's face that tells the story, but also the powerful strains of music intermingled with it.

Even with just these elements in place, it would be a movie worth seeing, though obviously a narrative based in little extent on dialogue and with less emphasis on a clear-cut story than your average American movie is unfortunately lost on some of the earlier commentators.

And even this seemingly sparingly laid out narrative reveals itself to the careful watcher to be a rich tapestry of symbols, metaphors and hidden meanings. Kiéslowski, just as in his other movies, demands participation of the viewer, and the one who expects passive entertainment has found the wrong film to watch.

Krzysztof never liked discussing meaning when it came to his movies, but liked keeping that up to the viewers, and few other directors have ever been able to lay out more food for thought and fruitful interpretation than him.

I saw the Three Colours trilogy before seeing Véronique, and the many similarities, both musical and in visual narrative, makes it feel like it almost belongs together with those three to form a quartet. In some ways it has more in common with Blue than Red and White do.

Had Juliette Binoche also been cast in the role of Véronique, as I understand that Krzysztof originally had intended, the similarities had been even greater. She was, however, occupied with shooting Les Amants du Pont-Neuf at the time I believe, and so Krzysztof opted for the less experienced Irène. I don't think the film is any worse for it: she is brilliant, and not just a pretty face as some people put it, but a very intelligent and aware actress as anyone who has seen her interview for the Red DVD release should discover if they haven't already.

In short: a wonderful film, wonderful music, great acting. But not a movie for everyone.

The Double Life of Veronique (1991)

Director Krzysztof Kieslowski is one of the undisputed poets of Cold War and post-Cold War cinema. The movies in his Polish/French trilogy, Blue, White, and Red, are finely tuned, sensitive, imaginative dramas that use mystery, music, psychology and visual fluidity to immerse you in another world that is beguiling and fascinating.

That's exactly what goes on here. It's a stunning movie-making "achievement" in how it pulls off this unique blend of amorphous elements, leading you into the ambiguity of the director's invented world. And into the world (or worlds) of the lead characters, both played by Irene Jacob, a classic kind of restrained French (French-Swiss) actress with a limited range, but within that range she has penetrating beauty and a moving, melancholic aura for the camera, which lingers on her face through much of the movie. Her roles as the two women who are classic doppelgangers--they look alike, have similar talents (singing), and both have heart problems. And they overlap in reality for just a few seconds, with only one seeing the other until later, when the other finds she took a picture of the first.

This is an unashamedly lofty film. It has high art written all over it, but not in the experimental or cutting edge way of independent filmmakers of this time. Rather, it pushes European mainstream film to its most refined limits, not giving up a narrative logic, not giving up musical scoring and photographic pyrotechnics, and not giving up a cast of beautiful people doing beautiful things. In fact, the star, first shown as a child, is looking at the stars in pure wonder, and the beauty of the world is sustaining and truly marvelous for her--and this I think is the life view of the director. That the world is amazing, filled with odd and beautiful coincidences, and is mostly there to be lived and enjoyed regardless.

To some extent, he is both characters, both Veroniques. The allegories of 1980s Europe, splintering under Communism's last few years, have been written about a lot (the Polish Weronika gives herself to her music and dies for it, trapped somehow, the French Veronique is free to reject her talent, travel, and yet, ultimately, end up a puppet to her personal weakness). But the fact is, Kieslowski was both the successful Polish director who died young (though he didn't expect that I'm sure) for his art, and the successful expatriate living a life filled with art and pleasure. He embodied the modern Europe, filled with the heady optimism that led to the love of a new Europe without borders, infinite in its possibilities.

It's worth noting that Communism has just fallen when this movie was made. There is a brief scene (the bus scene with the soldiers) that inserts this with, as usual, elegance. (Note here that he again makes the individual's inner needs more important than the greater politics.) The French Veronique is free to be hedonistic, the Polish version cannot quite do that, though you feel her struggle with what to do with her life as a singer.

All of this is obviously impressive. For its intentions and its inner coherence, the movie is terrific. But it's also starting to feel self-important, a little overblown in both its allegories and even in the basic doppelganger hook that holds it together. It's also a slow movie. If you don't completely drown, happily, in the aesthetics of the film (which would be easy to do), you might find there are little moments made too important, too detailed, too unaware that the audience is getting ahead of the movie and is restless. For me this was in some of the musical segments, in the marionette scenes, and even in the very last moments, which should have blown me out of the water.

Final word. I think it would help to see this film before the Three Colors trilogy, because they are better movies, especially "Blue" and "Red." I have seen "Red" several times, and it also stars Jacob, and I love it completely still. This predecessor is thinner in comparison, but only in comparison to this remarkable director's startling successes immediately after.