Dir. Krzysztof Kieslowski, 1991, Poland, 98 mins, subtitles
Cast: Irene Jacob, Halina Gryglaszewska, Kalina Jedrusik, Aleksander Bardini
Review by Angus Macdonald
The Double Life of Véronique is one of the great Polish director Krzysztof Kieslowski’s most enigmatic and perhaps under-valued films. Shot between Kieslowski’s two masterworks, the epic Dekalog (The Ten Commandments, 1988/89, and the two feature spin-offs, A Short Film About Killing and A Short Film About Love, both 1988), and the stunning Three Colours Trilogy (1994/95), it might be easy to surmise that Véronique was left eclipsed in the middle. This does not mean, however, that the film is not as worthy, notable, or as masterful as the director’s more crowning glories. In fact, it is a much better film than Three Colours White and some of the Ten Commandments and is easily on an equal footing with Three Colours Red.
Irene Jakob (later star of Three Colours Red) plays two young women, Weronika in Poland and Véronique in Paris, who were both born on the same day, are physically similar and lead surprisingly similar lives. Both are extremely musical and trying to follow singing careers. Although they never actually meet (although in one breathtaking scene, Véronique catches sight of her double passing by on a bus and tries in vain to get her attention) both are aware of some kind of connection or mystical resonance to something or someone else.
During a concert and in mid song Weronika’s heart gives in. She collapses on stage and dies, and miles away Véronique wakes up in the middle of the night unable to catch her breath, overcome by a profound sense of grief. Believing that music may affect her heart problem, she decides to give up her singing career and becomes a music teacher instead. This leads her to meet a young puppeteer and a difficult and demanding love affair ensues.
A beautifully structured, Kieslowski at no time attempts to explain or ease the viewer’s confusion. By beginning with Weronika’s story and then moving to Véronique’s, the audience is left to jigsaw together the overlapping strands of the seemingly simple narratives. In a reprise of Kieslowski’s earlier Blind Chance (1982, an obvious inspiration for Sliding Doors), The Double Life of Véronique could be thought of as an examination of the life affecting consequences of choice, fate, and the simplest decisions. Without Véronique’s profound reaction to Weronika’s death (an event she has no way of knowing about) perhaps her singing career could have also lead to her dying in mid-performance.
What holds the film together is the beautiful and exquisite performance (or performances) of Jakob, an actress who unfortunately hasn’t reached the international heights of the other Three Colours stars, Juliette Binoche and Julie Delpy. Nevertheless, her performance here (as in Three Colours Red) is note perfect, deservedly winning the Best Actress award at Cannes. The opening close up of her face, mesmerised while listening to music, glows out from the screen with a mix of shimmering naturalism and passion.
From Slawomir Idziac’s sumptuous cinematography, capturing not only the actor’s in beautifully lit close-ups but also revelling in the landscapes of Paris and Poland, to Zbigniew Preisner’s moody and haunting score, The Double Life of Véronique is an atmospheric, complex and gorgeous gem of a film. A decade after Kieslowski’s death (from a heart attack no less) this re-release of perhaps his most poetic and mysterious film will only help to remind audiences of the staggering power and depth of his unique and inimitable talents.
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