Tre colori - Film blu

Instead of saying which is the best and worst (though have often heard 'Red' cited best and 'White' the weakest, though all three films are generally very highly thought of) of Krzysztof Kieslowski's "Three Colours" trilogy, it will just be said that all three films in the trilogy are must-watches in their own way.

The first film in the trilogy 'Three Colours: Blue' serves as a very poignant exploration of grief and liberty (in the emotional sense), and to me it is one of the most moving and interesting depictions of grief and liberty in film. It is heavily symbolic, with its intricate use of music, the dominant use of the colour blue in the colour palette, its interesting use of fade outs (though actually different to their usual use, representative of time standing still rather than it passing or a scene conclusion), links to the main character's past (here the use of falling) and the bottle recycling, but not in an incoherent sense.

Visually, 'Three Colours: Blue' looks stunning. The whole film is shot with aesthetic grace and elegance and while the use of blue is dominant for symbolic reasons it is never gimmicky or cheap. Kieslowski's direction is thoughtful and never intrusive, and the intricate music score and the symbolic way it's utilised (representing Julie's struggles with isolation) is inspired, "Song for the Unification of Europe" is one of the most emotional tracks of music in any film seen by me recently.

Story-wise, 'Three Colours: Blue' challenges in a way but also always engages, mainly because of how movingly and intensely it deals with the tragic story of Julie and its themes of grief and liberty. The pacing is deliberate but never hits a dull spot.

One of 'Three Colours: Blue' is the astonishing performance from Juliette Binoche, an intensely affecting portrayal that ranks high up with her best performances. All the cast are fine, particularly Benoît Régent and Emmanuelle Riva, but in the acting stakes this is Binoche's film.

All in all, a beautiful, thought-provoking and moving film, and a wonderful start for a very interesting trilogy of films. 10/10 Bethany Cox

The subject(mourn,lost)is so interesting and profound that this film is a real treasure. It is very difficult to write about 'Bleu' because this film has so many intense scenes,with many details.Juliette Binoche's vulnerability is in every scene, every gesture, every moment. She plays an enigmatic woman,'Julie,' we're witness to her terrible loss(her husband who was a famous composer and her daughter died in a car crash)She is the survivor,not only of the accident,but of herself too.The film doesn't show us how her life was before the tragedy,but' Bleu' focuses on her personal journey to healing.

Julie seems stoic,she did not criy hysterically or stay in bed totally depressed,her grief is intimate and touching.In one scene when Julie is near the blue crystal mobile(which belonged to her daughter) just notice her reaction.Another poignant scene is when Julie is in that swimming pool,suddenly,she stops and she can hear her husband's symphony(all in her head).

Bleu also approaches a philosophical question-when you lose everything can you start all over again?,life is a series of events and choices,Julie moves to another place from the country to a city.She did not want to see her friends,she wants to be alone but is this possible?,her past will haunt her.

Another interesting aspect of this film is the use of music instead of dialogue,her silence is a reference of her terrible loss and pain,she is not depressed but sad. Also the meaning of the unfinished symphony of her husband is very profound (is connected with her grief and healing)

The photography of the film and the beautiful and delicate face of Binoche contribute to the impact of BLEU.

Kieslowski was one of the most talented directors, I really admired his 'Trois couleurs' trilogy but I think,'Bleu' was his most powerful film.

10/10

Krzysztof Kieslowski is, unquestionably, the master of the visual narrative.

More-so than even La Double Vie de Veronique (which is much more poetic than linear in it's structure), Trois Couleurs: Bleu is a marvel of visual exposition. Due to the nature of the film, exposition in this case is not necessarily related to plot, but rather to the understanding of a human being.

Kieslowski delves so deeply into the true nature of Julie (Juliette Binoche) and in such a remarkable way that by the end of the film we understand her utterly. Free from the clutter of dialogue and, for the most part, interaction with other characters we see Julie alone and in her most natural state. Kieslowski takes his documentary background and conveys his character in an almost voyeuristic manner. Showing Julie in anything but a state of solitude would be false; due to human nature Julie with Oliver would not be Julie, but rather a reflection of her true self which, although certainly interesting, pales in comparison to observing her silently struggle with the death of her husband and daughter alone.

Kieslowski played with applying the documentary techniques, which he perfected in his early work, to the narrative form in The Dekalog with tremendous, although at times visually mundane, results. The Dekalog looks like a documentary. Here, he turns over much visual control to his Director of Photographer, Slawomir Idziak, with tremendously cinematic results. Idziak's use of color and light, combined with his groundbreaking filter work, serve to further explore Julie's character. Blue feels like a documentary and looks like a dismal Rembrandt. While Kieslowski concentrates on showing the true nature of Julie through action, Idziak contributes by showing her through light and color.

Trois Couleurs: Blue is an almost unmatched achievement in the history of cinema. Never before has a character been conveyed so splendidly and in such a visually stunning manner.

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.

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.