Krzysztof Kieslowski had already cemented his reputation as a strong documenter of Polish life, with his early career in documentaries, a collection of original social realist films, and an excellent television series ('The Dekalog') when the Berlin Wall came down and Communism in Eastern Europe collapsed. As with many filmmakers from the area, Kieslowski suddenly found he had nothing to confront in his films, no system to subvert and no drive for his characters. Whilst Poland had been better prepared for this than most other countries, thanks to Lech Walesa's Solidarity movement, it was still a huge change, and Kieslowski may have found himself with a sudden loss of inspiration. His respons was this film, which focused on a personal story rather than a wider socio-political context, as well as addressing the relationship between East and West Europe, albeit set in the past.
Veronika and Véronique are two different women, one living in Poland, the other in Paris, but they share many things. Both look exactly alike, played by the Amelie-like Irène Jacob (who was awarded the Best Actress prize at Cannes), both have extraordinary singing voices, both are in casual relationships, and both feel an emptiness in their life. We first follow Veronika, as she finds success as a singer, and seems to be living a rather content life with her aunt before suddenly dying during her debut performance. We then join Véronique, who is overcome with a sadness and decides to give up singing. Instead, she becomes romantically involved with a puppeteer, and they begin a strange, teasing persual before finding solace with one another.
The film is extremely dreamlike, marking a departure from Kieslowski's social realism and a move towards the stylisation of his Three Colours trilogy. Scenes often take place in semi-darkness, with gentle lighting and soft focus, and the story and characters never feel particularly grounded. Both girls have a sweet innocence about them, but are sexualised by both the men in the film and behind the camera. The mood is generally rather pleasant, featuring loving relationships, but there is an unsettling eeriness due to the unstable reality. Cinematographer Slawomir Idziak continues his good work on 'A Short Film about Killing' with an intense and moody filter through which we see the world, whilst composer Zbigniew Priesner creates a stunning and affecting soundtrack that echoes Veronika's swansong throughout the film, altogether giving the air of a figure and country dying a being reborn ina romantic dream elsewhere in Europe.
Much acclaim has been afforded the film, and the second half's playful love games were evidently a huge influence on the more whimsical 'Amelie' (the actors even look the same), but personally I find it a bit impenetrable and ambiguous, and not on a parr with Kieslowski's best work. It is more interesting for the early signs of the themes from Three Colours, and viewers will notice the struggling old lady figure which both women witness and who later figures in the Trilogy. Neither Veronika or Véronique comes across as a particularly strong character, with Véronique acting more as romantic consolation to the mysterious and solitary puppeteer. It's certainly a beautiful and emotional film, with Jacob in particular undoubtably finding favour amongst male film critics, but I personally must be missing something as I can't hold the film in such high esteem as them.
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