Reflections on Brilliance:Krzysztof Kieślowski's Three Colors Trilogy Eileen G'Sell (bio) Blue (1993) A pool, the sky, a woolen scarf, a candy wrapper flapping in the wind, a rhinestone mobile, mottled stained glass, a night-lit road, the stripe on a stray beach ball. A lost song, a last psalm, an adulterous husband and wordless daughter. The first installment of Krzysztof Kieślowski's Three Colors trilogy—undoubtedly its best—explodes onscreen in a symphony of hue-charged, pathos-rich imagery. As thematically substantive as it is voraciously attuned to aesthetic value, the "blue" in Blue is at once a visual motif and affective register, at stake from the very first shot: the camera below the belly of a speeding Saab, the asphalt a muted beryl. In other scenes, multiple shades of blue swallow us whole: blue rain in a blue sky outside blue walls, where a man in a sodden blue shirt steps out of a heart-achingly empty house. Nearly 30 years after Blue solidified Kieślowski's arthouse stardom, the Polish director's trilogy has been restored to 4K cinematic glory for theatrical release in major U.S. cities. Heralded in 1993 by The Washington Post as a "penetrating, hypnotic meditation on liberty and loss," it was bemoaned by The Guardian for its "simple exercises in stylistic flourish." Where the Times dismissed it as "an aridly intellectual kind of filmmaking thought highly of in Europe," the late Roger Ebert concluded that "European films have a more adult, inward, knowing way of dealing with the emotions, and Hollywood hasn't grown up enough." Today's critical response to the trilogy's reissue seems, by turns, as preternaturally glowing as Juliette Binoche's unpainted face. "This summer's most relevant cinematic universe," proclaims IndieWire's David Ehrlich. "It's hard to think of a recent world-cinema endeavour roughly equivalent to Kieślowski's career-crowning triptych," posits Guy Lodge of The Guardian. That the films of the Three Colors trilogy bask in a chromatic brilliance on par with their titles seems undebatable. But how do they stand up as existential portraits of the human experience? And do they honor women as equally ensnared as men in the fists of fate? As two of the three films follow a female protagonist, and the other features a very memorable female antagonist (played by Julie Delpy), one might expect at least some critical attention to be devoted to the portrayal and development of these [End Page 178] characters onscreen. Instead, the discourse has been dominated by male critics blissfully inattentive to such matters. The dearth of feminist readings feels more than strange, and in need of a colorful corrective—my goal in the subsequent paragraphs. Narratively, Blue orbits the interior experience of Julie (Juliette Binoche), a young widow grappling with the sudden loss of her husband, Patrice (Hugues Quester), and five-year-old daughter, Anna, after their car swerves to avoid a dog and slams into a tree. A musical genius in her own right, Julie methodically rips up the handwritten score for her husband's forthcoming composition, Concert for the Reunification of Europe, a composition that, we slowly infer, she has likely written for him. Much of the film hinges on her ability to reinvest herself both in her artistic talents and the prospect of connection with other humans. "I have just one thing to do," she tells her dementia-addled mother midway through the film. "Nothing. I want no possessions, no memories, no friends, no lovers—they're all traps." In response to her grief, Julie seeks the ultimate freedom, speaking to the liberté in France's liberté, égalité, fraternité credo, to which each film in the trilogy roughly corresponds; more overtly, Blue, White, and Red refer to the consecutive colors of the French flag. Kieślowski admitted that, to some extent, the color titles are arbitrary. "If a different country had provided the finance," the Polish director told film scholar Paul Coates. "Germany, for instance, and I had made it as a German film, then yellow would have taken the place of blue and one would have had 'yellow, red, and black.'" Vraiment? It's...
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