Tre colori - Film blu

How do we know what it is, essentially, that we liked about a movie? Which is to say, what do we come to know about this viewer who was affected? And what do we say of that experience, do we ascribe it outside of us? No, that's just a bunch of words.

This is what we have here, questions of memory and meaning. A woman as viewer of a movie taking spontaneous shape around her (played by Binoche as placid observer), that pokes holes in herself and provokes questions; finally overcoming it by being pulled forward by what was left incomplete in it.

A woman who has lost everything as the film begins, every anchor in her life violently removed in one swoop and she's now cast adrift. We have the whole film as her own inner drift through an interminable flow. Kieslowski evokes this with lush dissonance between visual segments, cuts and fades that leave life in suspense. There is scant story, all about living with these fragments. Music erupts around her in sudden intervals; but music that's coming from inside of her and being hallucinated.

It's the world of memory and inner life. Tarkovsky enters this with long, mystifying sweeps of the camera that lift bearings and slip into dreams and ruminations. Kieslowski by contrast caresses their outline, the surface of emotions as they glide over the eyes. It's not difficult like Tarkovsky or Ruiz can be, but pleasant in the way of Kar Wai. It goes down rather easy, you can see it for just the surface shift.

Kieslowski had spent the whole 10 hours of the Dekalog training this ability to dream in advance. It pays off here. Each of the 10 Dekalogs was about a narrative that an earth-shattering revelation comes along and creates a change in viewing. You will see this here obviously. But Dekalog had a contrast; some of it was Kieslowski opening corridors in the imagining with his camera, most was characters stumbling into revelations and articulating feelings. Here I'm happy to note this tension is resolved in favor of the eye; the whole is about visual slippage through cracks in story.

He lets blue lights shine on screen as music soars in crescendos, he gives us closeup shots of eyes; the eye that colors. At other points he introduces memory as images before a viewer: the funeral playing on a screen, images of her husband on TV that when shuffled through reveal a mistress. Most eloquently, images on TV of someone being cast over a void with a bungee chord as her anxiously precarious drift with nowhere to hold. She's fading from even the mind of her mother.

For the end he reserves a tableaux of joined moments from lives as they are suspended briefly in mind. It's all being endlessly relived and combined like the music she works to complete with her composer friend. The music is central here.

Not just as the memory of what was collaboratively lived with her composer husband, the emotion that was absorbed and now erupts again, but also as the sheet where an incomplete piece beckons for the work of continued imagination. The shot of this sheet as scribbled notes end and lines stretch interminably is the abstract heart at the bottom of it.

Had another woman not made a copy of the score, it would have disappeared when she burnt it. Had she come by to pick up the photos of her husband, she might have burnt them with everything else and never found out about the mistress. But it's all this what eventually pulls her out of herself.

An accident results in loss and pain, the rejection of a world that you refrain, you seek withdrawal, isolation, segregation, separation, and transition to a life, where you abstain. But seclusion still has links and ties and cords, that retract and pull and cannot be ignored, reconnection through a box, reveals a secret that's unlocked, that begins to reconnect, and to restore.

It's a wonderful performance from Juliette Binoche as she elegantly weaves Kieslowski's tale of freedom into a contemporary setting. Packed full of symbolism that requires numerous visits to absorb, you may find a myriad of interpretations of your own too.

This movie is one of my favorites.

The disturbing topic of a woman who can't deal with the loss of her husband and child transforms into an essay on the impossibility of isolation. It is a quiet, personal movie that spends most of it's time with the main character played excellently by Juliette Binoche.

The color blue is very evident in the film,and a fade to a simple blue screen is used to show times of deep emotion. Although the characters are set in a specific time and place ( France just before the formation of the EU ) the focus on the personal journey of grief transcends the setting.

I like the way this film changes from a story about a death to an affirmation to life. I like the way that little things like mice in the apartment loom large in the thought of our main character, where as what others consider important such as finishing her husband's symphony seem very minor .

It feels like diving deep through cold dark water to finally swim toward the light. One passes through emotional turmoil to come out the other side. I found it a very satisfying.

Blue is one of those little movies that grows on you. The more you think about it the more you like it. That's not to say that it's not enjoyable to view; the cinematography and music are marvelous. But this is Juliette Binoche's movie. Everything revolves around her character, Julie, who, in the first scene, survives an automobile accident that claims the lives of her famous composer husband and her five-year-old daughter. Now alone the remainder of the movie delves into Julie's long emotional recovery. Not traumatic, or depressing as the subject matter may imply it is instead subtle, graceful, and beautiful.

TROIS COLOURES: BLEU is a rich, dark film with all the Kieslowski marks: death, silence, depression, and the inner torment of outwardly attractive women. After seeing the whole trilogy and the DEKALOG, I'm convinced at Kieslowski's great talent, and his very early death was a true blow to world cinema. Much like Kubrick but with a less ironic nature, Kieslowski loves to make his characters and stories both humanely distant, realistic, and, at the same time, philosophically idealist and dense. I enjoyed BLEU more than BLANC (which was an odd machismic entry in a trilogy mainly focusing on women) but not as much as ROUGE, which I feel is one of the finest, most beautiful, most well-done films I've ever seen.

More specifically, BLEU's focus seems to be on the relationship of a woman's loss of the tactile manifestation of her husband's existance with the ligering notions of his life - especially his music, which pervades the entire film, interrupting at key moments with a blackout and short blast of the overture. To watch Julie struggle with her husband's abandoned secrets (including a mistress Julie befriends) is shattering, frustrating, and perplexing.

Unfortunately, life must move, and, due to that, I can't watch BLEU over and over. However, I did glean from one viewing the complexity of this picture, and recognize its need to be watched over and over, until Kieslowski's last gasps can be properly understood, which is all we can hope to return to a man whose genius was tragically cut short, but still stands as a giant in my view of cinema.