Tres colores: Rojo

See Three Colors: Blue and Three Colors: White. They are both wonderful films and will give an added dimension to the finale Three Colors: Red. Red is a fantastic film. It can be enjoyed in a single viewing, and indeed, the climax of the film is very powerful in that first viewing. But, watch it again. Once you understand the use of symbolism and character parallels in this movie, you will see new things with each viewing. With the first viewing you understand that the film is the work of a brilliant mind. With each additional viewing, you find yourself discovering that it is, in fact, a work of genius. Red is meant to symbolize fraternity in the French flag. The story turns the theme of fraternity around to be viewed at angles one would never suspect. The facets of fraternity shared by the different characters is as deep as you care to peer. If you are used to the blatant "symbolism" in most mass films, you may find Red a bit slow. You may find yourself looking at a screen filled with intensity that you do not fathom... and yawning, wonder what all the excitement is about. This is not a mindless, vicarious experience. Everything is not explained to you. You must think as you watch. You must see... not simply look. Wonderful movie... one meant to be enjoyed by a wonderful moviegoer.

You hurt a dog when out driving when distracted, you find the owner but he's totally refracted, an eavesdropper, retired judge, set in his ways and cannot budge, you are appalled at how his life is being enacted. Your encounter leads to more as you connect, get the chance to interact and to inspect, events unfold and the judge changes, adjusts the focus of his ranges, to each other there's a noticeable effect.

It's a wonderful performance from Irène Jacob in a multithreaded tale of friendship and connection. As with Blue, you can spin any number of interpretations from the symbolism and imagery, and will quite probably come to any number of conflicting conclusions. The whole trilogy wraps itself up at the close and might allow you to tie off a few loose ends, or may leave you with more.

Kieslowski gives us a tapestry of interwoven stories in this, his last turn. I welcome films of this kind that go on to show how, if no life exists in isolation, then our troubles don't either, they have roots that surge forward and back, and so there's a road that leads out of the thicket.

Blue was about memory, how the past surfaces to color reality. White was about desire, how the imagined future surfaces to color reality. This is something else, even more penetrating in its coloration of reality, in my opinion the best of the three and Kieslowski's crowning jewel. He would retire after.

It begins with an opening shot of phone wires running between interconnected lives, carrying voices and stories that circle the ether. We then begin with two lives on the same street and how they begin to interconnect. One of the ensuing threads is self- referential about Kieslowski.

A chance confluence of stories brings a young woman to the house of an old man, Kieslowski himself. Retired "judge" and spends his time eavesdropping in the lives of people, inserting himself as observer of stories. In his days as judge he similarly inserted himself in the stories of people brought before him, deciding right from wrong. Now he no longer feels the need to arrive at verdicts, he simply observes the coming and going.

One scene revolves around her discovering his habit and how it's a wretched thing to do. How dare he insinuate himself in the secrets of people? Also self-referential, Kieslowski critiquing the job of presuming to know peoples' innermost selves.

Better than personal commentary, this is self-referential in a larger way about observing and living a life that has to make sense of how stories and images surround us. Kieslowski does some of his best work in ushering us along that path, all of the Dekalog pays off here.

The old man not just as cynically indifferent observer but as someone who has given up on life, broken by something in his past. Now he has taken up the habit of vicariously inhabiting other peoples' stories as substitute for a lack of his own. What we have is a narrator at the center of narratives. Someone who is burdened with the memory of dashed dreams. Someone who lives in the mind, the mind as this house of fictions.

The way Kieslowski decenters the reality of what happens next is magical. Something more mysterious is starting to take place, isn't it?

Not all narratives are innocuous the old man shows us, or express a simple truth. There's a neglected old mother somewhere who lies to her daughter about having a heart- attack to get her to visit. In a court that punished lying she would be found guilty; but she only wants the company of her daughter. We see here how narratives (including dreams and memory) are extensions of self, ways of bringing close to us something we need.

And then Kieslowski shifts again. Only now can he begin to show us how not everything that we see is actually taking place. He makes it a point for example to reveal that he never climbed on the top floor of her house like in the bizarre scene that we saw earlier (he saw her in a mirror). The book didn't fly open to a certain page in the middle of a street but in an auditorium.

Some of it may be an old man's story that reinvents in order to reveal, some of it might be dreamlike fantasy. But precisely the point isn't to say what is true and what not. To decide what is true would be to show a great lack of humility, the judge says. The sailor in his story may have been guilty; but not convicting him allowed him to live a peaceful life.

It culminates in a marvelous scene in an empty theater with doors flying open by the wind. But the way Kieslowski has decentered us from rigid truth, we can surge through a whole life to see many possible ones now. Is this his dream from 20 years later and he's going to wake up next to her? Is it a confrontation between her and him about an affair, taking on this dreamlike shape? Is it about finding her or losing her?

Lynch was not forthcoming about whether or not Kieslowski was an influence when bluntly asked. But I believe that part of Inland Empire is set in Lodz (where Kieslowski went to film school) for a reason, a more eloquently playful acknowledgement. He would take us so very far.

One of my favorite films of all time. With beautiful cinematography and a story that ties the previous Kieslowski films ("Blue" and "White") together. The film introduces us to Valentine (played by the glowingly real Irene Jacob), a beautiful and innocent Swiss model and student, who at first glance seems to be happy until one night she accidentally runs over a dog. The dog belongs to a retired old Judge who finds fulfillment in listening to his neighbors telephone calls via wavelength radio. Valentine is at first disgusted and pities him in his own self-pity and despair. But as the Judge and Valentine get to know one another a strange, but fateful bond begins to form. As a subplot, a handsome young Judge named Auguste (who lives across the street from Valentine) has experiences that are exactly like those of the Old Judge! Experiences that will soon lead Auguste into Valentine and into a reunion with characters from the French flag colors trilogy.

I loved the love story withing a love story plot and the mystery that resolves the characters that eventually fate takes a hand and lead them to each other. Irene Jacob is absolutely lovely in the role of Valentine. Her large brown eyes seem to echo this innocence and curiosity that is both passionate and touching. It's a film that asks us to watch out for the signs that will soon lead us to our destinies. A very intriguing film and a movie lover's dream.

The final part of Kieslowski's trilogy based on the colors of the French flag finds the director at peace with the metaphysical and transcendent nature of the cinematic image. In Red, imagery is paramount, as well as the obvious but clever color coding. However, rather than adhering to empty aesthetic contrivances based on the 'cinema du look', Kieslowski's Red is a multi-layered, densely plotted meditation on the nature of fate and love. In Red, love and fate are intertwined but complex notions, dictated as much by the whims of human beings as the invisible parallel associations that seems to pass us by. You sense Red is really an allegory, a reenactment of Prospero's omnipresent gestures in The Tempest, yet it is more than its story appears. Red demands countless viewings, and in each viewing something new is discovered that weaves itself into the already immaculately plotted structure.

Although Red stands alone as a masterwork from Kieslowski, it's best viewed as part of the trilogy. Elements of Blue and White are referenced in Red, which knowing viewers will enjoy.