Kieslowski’s film is of such ethereal beauty as is the star of the film herself. Indeed, this film seems more like a love letter for the wonderful Irène Jacob who appears in almost every frame of the film as the title character. First as Weronika in Poland, an amateur singer of extraordinary talent, a stargazer of the purest form of innocence, a child in a woman’s body almost, a free spirit of incomparable openness. In the film’s most powerful scene, however, she unexpectedly dies during her debut performance. Cue Véronique, a French music teacher, played by the same actress. Both women seem to be aware of each other in a deep subconscious level. Werokina feels that she is not alone in the world and when she dies Véronique suddenly feels like she lost someone. Moreover, Véronique seems to act upon instinct, like there’s someone whispering to her what she should or shouldn’t do. In fact, after Weronika dies, she decided to drop her singing lessons because “something” told her to do so; and as the film advances we learn that that wasn’t the first time Véronique “learned from Weronika’s mistakes”. Add to the story a mysterious puppeteer, Veronique’s love interest if you will, who is somehow linked to the two women and you have this film’s basic “plot”.
The similarities between the two are obvious beyond the fact that they look the same physically. Both exude a mysterious aura of purity and generosity of spirit, but Veronique appears to be the more practical of the two. These women share a bond, but the degree to which they are connected is something the viewer has to decide for theirself. Are they the same person? Do they share a soul? What does the puppeteer represent? Could he be Kieslowski or God? Or is Kieslowski actually represented in the title role? What is the meaning of the ending? These are some of the questions this film might raise, but the answers to all of them can only be found in oneself.
The director takes joy in showing us the little details that make this character so absolutely fascinating and perfectly connects their stories through the recurrence of objects (threads, a little toy balls), people (fathers, missing mothers, old hunched woman – also in Three Colours: Blue, I think), colours, places and camera angles, making the feeling of déjà vu all the more intense. The cinematography is strikingly gorgeous, the colour palette (predominantly of yellow hues) and lighting all working together to give the film a dreamlike look. The beautifully atmospheric music works both as a contributor to the highly spiritual vibe of the film and as a powerful reminder of the connection of the two women. But if there’s one element without which this film couldn’t have worked it’s Irène Jacob and her luminously humanistic performance. Her dreamy eyes, her delicate beauty, her innocence and purity are incredibly compelling. Dialogue wasn’t needed at all. In fact, she could have delivered an equally impressive performance if this film had been silent because it is in her body language and especially in her eyes where she conveys emotion.
The Double Life of Veronique is a film which doesn’t need to be explained for one to appreciate it. It is true that it’s an incredibly metaphysical piece of work, but in philosophy it’s all about the questions, not the answers; and believe me when I tell you, Kieslowski definitely understands that.
Personal rating: 9/10
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