The Double Life of Veronique 
La double vie de Véronique
ふたりのベロニカ 「Futari no Beronika」
Release Date: May 15th, 1991
Duration: 98 mins.
Director: Krszytof Kieslowski
Writer: Krszytof Kieslowski, Krszytof Piesiewicz (Screenplay),
Starring: Irene Jacob, Philippe Volter, Jerzy Gudejko, Sandrine Dumas, Lorraine Evanoff, Halina Gryglaszewska,
Beautiful. Dreamy. Sensual. Mysterious.
The Double Life of Veronique immediately struck a chord with me due to the gorgeous visuals and how they conveyed a sense of spirituality and the mysteries of life.
Those words also apply to lead actor Irene Jacob whom writer/director Krszytof Kieslowski first discovered in a small part as a piano teacher at the boys school in Louis Malle’s war-time film Au Revoir les Enfants (1987). She is cast in the dual roles of Weronika and Veronique, the former a Polish woman, the latter, her double, a woman living in France. Their stories form the first and second part respectively of a two-part story that marked Kieslowski’s first international co-production.
We are introduced to the two as little girls in a pre-title sequence as their mothers explain some of the mysteries of the universe to them. As adults, they bare striking similarities that go beyond looks: close relationships with their fathers following the passing of their mothers, a medical condition surrounding heart trouble, and an affinity for music that has led Weronika to be a soprano in a choir while Veronique teaches music. While they live their lives separately, they they are aware of each other. Maybe as a “presence” or a feeling but there is a connection. One will say, “I feel that I’m not alone” and viewers will understand why and then, after their paths first cross, one will say, “I felt that I was alone” and the line hits hard.
Doubles. Doppelgangers. The meeting of either one usually portends something bad happening but maybe not so in this film.
While Weronika’s time is cut short, the positive attributes that we see of the woman, her confidence and happiness, feel like they are imbued by a spiritual/supernatural connection to Veronique. Likewise, Weronika has a profound influence on Veronique that becomes clear in the second part of the film. Premonitions in her life and the comfort of a presence she does not fully comprehend. This feeling deepens as the more we learn of their histories and how their lives mirror each other, the more we see that the connection between the two women was beneficial to both.
The two characters try to articulate these feelings of a presence to their fathers. Lovers will hear of dreams that signify something. Items and music from one character’s life will emerge in the life of the other. Sometimes they react to a presence they sense but never see. Like ghosts, in a way. They are the sorts of connections we experience in life. We feel them in the moment or may see them in hindsight. They give us comfort, the sense of being part of a greater whole or being part of a universe that has a place for us. This spiritual aspect lessens the sting of death.
These are vague feelings and sensations and, fortunately for the film, they are lightly touched upon to allow the audience to interpret things for themselves.
Kieslowski trusts the audience to fill in the gaps and use their imagination and experience and beliefs to make connections between ideas and the characters through snippets of poetic dialogue that never strains credulity or arresting and very poetic imagery or the sight of characters repeating actions in ways that mirror each other. Doing this avoids having to explain anything supernatural or spiritual. Explaining things can ruin the experience. Concrete evidence does away with the mysteries of life. Being literal flattens the poetic. It makes things banal, even unbelievable. It takes away from the mystical as it strives for realism. Thankfully not here.
The second half of the film, told entirely from Veronique’s perspective, follows her on a detective trail as her love for a puppeteer whose play she had witnessed at her school. Her love drives her to track him down. Giving herself over to emotion, she pursues clues that he leaves: phone calls and cassette tape recordings of ambient noise at a train station. This storyline not go as she or he had planned and they have to give up control in some way – an ironic turn of events for a puppet master and a teacher, both of whom are used to being in control.
The profession of puppet master might suggest some transcendental entity or fate pulling their strings but, again, the film doesn’t explain things away, it simply has the images and actions of the characters and allows the audience to piece them together like a puzzle.
Tying everything together is a remarkable performance by Jacobs. The film is built around her.
Stunningly beautiful and able to show depth in her emotions, her presence enough to warrant the camera staring at her, following her, making her the focus of nearly every scene. She is capable of essaying the deep pleasure and pain of the two women. Jacobs can radiate the profound joy that Weronika feels from singing in the rain or erotic acts performed with a lover. Her face can crumple with grief or disappointment as Veronica wrestles with a sense of loss then, alternatively, there are the looks of intense longing and happiness as love seems to be in reach. Both convincingly suggest a woman connected to earthier aspects of life and also a profound and euphoric spirituality. Jacob gives a performance that brings vibrant lives with profound feelings to the screen. For her work, she won Best Actress at Cannes 1991 while the film took the FIPRESCI Prize and the Prize of the Ecumenical Jury.
The film is shot with a gold/green filters that imbues the visuals with a gentle early autumn feeling. Specifically, the blacks are distinct and against them, the lustrous glows of green fields, halogen bulbs, sunlight reflected from glass, all become richer. It makes the world warmer, more attractive. It also taps into the feeling of change and loss. Gorgeous scenes abound such as the held close-up of Weronika’s face, streaked with rain, as she sings in a sun-shower, her smile beaming brightly. Then her running through the shower past a flatbed truck carrying a statue of Lenin – reminding one of Theo Angelopolous – and Veronica waking up from sleep to pursue a beam of light around her flat. It is all beautiful.
From the look of the film to the performance of Jacob to the ideas of fate, love, and connection, I found myself enraptured by The Double Life of Veronique and really enjoyed the experience.