Tres colores: Blanco

I love the entire Three Colors trilogy, but "White" is my sentimental favorite because I sympathize so deeply with the hero. I've experienced the same kind of competitive, destructive love that drives Karol throughout this movie, and I'm also a nerdy schmuck like he is, so I found myself really commiserating with him.

Unfortunately, "White" has acquired a reputation as the weakest entry in the series. I think it's the odd one out, but certainly not the worst. It's the only one of the three that regularly stretches credibility (the plot twists are really wild), and the only one with a male protagonist, but it's also the most exciting of the films and, ultimately, the most disturbing. The ending in particular is a killer.

"Red" tinkers a bit with "White"; in fact, if I'm not mistaken, it entirely changes the resolution of this film for the worse. That's too bad. "White" works best on its own, as a pessimistic movie, without the more optimistic outlook of "Red" grafted on in retrospect. But since both films are so great on their own, I'm not too bothered by their failure to gel properly.

WHITE IS THE COLOR OF DOMINIQUE'S WEDDING DRESS at the exit of the church, surrounded by the blazing whiteness of an overexposed background, full of subtle symbolisms imbued with hypnotic nuances. WHITE is the glimmer of the impending reflexes in the background of a lazy town buried under the snow. WHITE is the bust of a statue caressed as a memento of a love irremediably lost. WHITE is Dominique's final orgasm, a real scream of liberation from the yoke of her spiteful stubbornness, the false revenge of a woman unaware of her impending calamity, completely unacquainted with the bitter game of make-believe inspired by a wickedness that cries out for vengeance. According to Karol, the main character, it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. His desire for revenge blows out his residual flickering flame of love after having suffered unforgivable affronts devised by his heartless wife.

"Trzy kolory: Bialy" (Three colors: White), second episode inspired to the three colors of the French flag and to the three principles of the French Revolution (Freedom, Equality and Fraternity), brings back to us two old acquaintances, Zbigniew Zamachowski (very similar to the pathetic Italian character Fantozzi,) and Jerzy Stuhr. It may be considered the most unforeseeable movie of the whole colors trilogy, full of sharp and witty tones of grotesque melodrama, with a reluctant and peevish Julie Delphy never seen so cold-mannered on the screen before. The inborn sense of Kieslovski's BLACK humor comes out here in all its might almost counterbalancing the concept of absolute WHITE connected with he story.

"Three colors: white" is very different from the other two episodes of the trilogy, but nonetheless the unmistakable touch of the genius can be generously found in the accurate care of the details, in the emotional intensity of the dialogs, in the careful analysis of the individual values, in his safe distance from the events represented by him, in his constant application of the principle of casualness and in his large use of metaphors (look for instance at the sequences of simultaneous flights of pigeons, symbolizing an open concept of freedom often cherished in his works). And Julie Delphy's following words sound as a sort of sincere homage to Kieslovski's art: "Kieslowski is a director who draws his inspiration from the true life of people, who instills his own soul into his movie, who dwells upon the details as if he wanted to examine the life under a microscope." Absolutely true. There is nothing else left to say: "Three colors: red" looms on the horizon.

The second film in Krzysztof Kieslowski's "Blue, White & Red" trilogy, "White" (1993), is decidedly lighter in tone than its predecessor and should manage to appeal to a wider audience. In it we meet Karol Karol, a Polish hairdresser living in Paris who has just been divorced by his wife Dominique (the gorgeous Julie Delpy, who is not unfairly compared to the Brigitte Bardot of "Contempt" in this picture), due to a spell of impotence. At first blush something of a nebbish, Karol soon shows that he is nevertheless quite the resourceful character. Back in his wintry-white native land, he manages to somehow get back on his feet, rebuild his life despite numerous adversities--as had Juliette Binoche in "Blue"--and even contrive a get-even scheme involving his ex. As in the previous film, the directing and photography are just outstanding, and Zbigniew Zamachowski is at once sympathetic, funny and charismatic in "White"'s lead role. Sharp-eyed fans of "Blue" will note Ms. Binoche's Julie character in "White"'s opening courtroom scene, as well as the same old lady at the recycling bin (this latter background character would also, strangely, resurface in "Red"); just some fun elements to help tie this loosely linked trio of films together, I suppose. Despite being a bit more straightforward than the other two films in the trilogy, "White" still offers food for thought, as well as some puzzling moments. For example, viewers who will be able to interpret Delpy's hand gestures at the tail end of the picture are certainly better than me. (Then again, I've always been pretty bad at any hand pantomime more involved than a raised middle finger; guess I'd make a lousy deaf person!) Fortunately, Delpy explains these mysterious gestures for us in one of the DVD's copious extras. I'm also somewhat at a loss as to how the color white's corresponding to "equality" on the French flag pertains here. Are we supposed to think that Karol and Dominique are equals of sorts by the film's end? I suppose so. The white of the title can just as easily be regarded, though, as corresponding to the sweet and pleasing center of an Oreo cookie, in the middle of two decidedly darker segments...

Your pretty wife, has decided to divorce, as you're impotent and not hung like a horse, your debit card is taken, your lost, lonely, forsaken, and you're feeling rather low, full of remorse. A chance encounter gets you back to your homeland, to Poland where you hatch the perfect plan, to avenge all of the strife, from your uncaring ex-wife, and make you feel like you're actually a man.

Karol Karol goes from zero to hero as he takes his life from the depths of despair to the heights of a wealthy and successful businessman, in order to exact his cunning revenge on the wife that belittled and scorned him. A little bit daft and wholly unimaginable but mildly entertaining in a comical kind of way.

It is not only difficult to comment separately on the three parts of Kieslowski's trilogy, it seems obvious that the filmmaker wants us to do just the opposite: view them in order, Blue, White, and Red, and consider them together as one complete work. It is true they are distinct stories with distinct themes: liberty, equality, fraternity, and each them is developed with unique applications of intrigue and artistry. They are each well worth seeing independently, but I believe they are best seen as one work. Collectively, I would rate the trilogy as a 9; separately, I place each in my top ten for the years 1993 and 1994.

White is the fabric of a bride, chaste and pure at the outset of her marriage; later it is the flash of an orgasm in the dark; and then .... But any more said of the instances of white in this film might spoil it for the first-time viewer. Unlike Three Colors: Blue, White is a more plot-oriented movie, with two main characters to Blue's one. And this is as it should be. Blue's theme of Liberty, the first word of France's motto, is an individual's principle, while White's theme of Equality, the French motto's second word, requires at least two people. The central quest for liberty is personal; the struggle for equality is fundamentally social. White is the most conventional of the three Color films, and while it is still one of my ten top films of 1994, I rate it an 8, slightly less than the highly visual Blue and the mind-bending Red.