Three Colors: Blue/White/Red, Krzysztof Kieslowski, Film Review: Cinephilia

Polish director Krzysztof Kieslowski became the darling of English-speaking cinema studies/art-house audience with his 1988 films A Short Film About Love and Short Film About Killing but it is his much-feted Three Colours trilogy that is his main cinematic legacy. As is commonly the case with such fortunate individuals Kieslowski’s reputation depends as much upon the interpretive enthusiasm of his devotees as it does upon the intrinsic merits of his films which are distinguished by high-end concepts and aesthetically-attractive conceits but in affect are remarkably dull, something which doesn’t seem to bother their exegetes but will leave most people wondering what’s all the fuss about.

Although only loosely related, the films all written by Kieslowski with Krzysztof Piesiewicz, who had also written the Short Films together, need to be taken as a piece to be considered properly. The colours refer to the French flag and the Republic’s three founding principles: liberty; equality; fraternity; each tenet being explored by Blue. White and Red respectively. The colours have limited symbolic function beyond that and many would claim that unless they were told which tenet was supposed to thematically central their application would be equally arbitrary.

The first in the series is the strongest as a stand-alone film both aesthetically and emotionally. Juliette Binoche plays a woman who loses her husband and young daughter in a car accident If at times it’s a little too chic, Binoche is effective as the grieving woman whilst Zbigniew Preisner's score brings home the theme of redemption impressively.

White is often referred to as a black comedy, which in one sense it is, although don’t expect much in the way of laughs. Zbigniew Zamachowski plays a Polish hairdresser who is dumped by his beautiful wife (Julie Delpy) and plans an elaborate revenge. Aside from the fact that there is no apparent reason as to why Delpy’s character would have been smitten by the lumpish barber in the first place the film is largely concerned with the latter and his retribution is so glibly handled and Delpy so little part of the film that one can feel little but indifference and not a little annoyance at its outcome. Anyone who has seen Blue will recognise Zamachowski and Delpy from the courtroom scene, as here we recognize Binoche as the woman who puts her head in the door of the divorce hearing very briefly.

Red , the final chapter, is often referred to as the crowning glory of the trilogy but here the indulgence of the viewer is very much required. The core problem is that its structure it is more like a theatre work with its concepts exemplified by narrative manipulations and the pointed dialogue. When transposed into the context of a more naturalistic-looking film, the number of coincidences and conveniences becomes incongruous. And as with White there are as many things which annoy as please. Irene Jacob, who starred in Kieslowski's The Double Life of Veronique plays a fashion model who encounters Jean-Louis Trintignant, a retired judge (thank God he wasn’t an architect) who spies on his neighbours and a convoluted story of crossed destinies unfolds. The trouble is that whilst the notion of interweaving destinies is a most beguiling one, here the idea is done so literally and with so little élan (Jacob’s character advertises toothpaste as "A Breath of Life" and such laboured self-regard (Kern is clearly the artist representing himself somewhat ironically in a God-like role, Kieslowski dying of AIDs-related complications in 1996) that there is nothing for the audience to do but pay dutiful attention to Kieslowski's soliloquy. The ending of the film, which brings together all the principals from the three films comes across as the final and most hyperbolic in a long of specious contrivances upon which the trilogy’s moral theses rests.

Red, however, earned Kieslowski an Academy Award nomination for Best Director in 1995, Blue shared the Golden Lion at Venice in 1993, and White won him Best Director in Berlin in 1994. Such is the dazzling allure of fame.