Cast: Irène Jacob
(Sorry about the bad quality on the trailer, it's the only version I could find that doesn't suck.)
Have you ever felt like you somehow aren't quite complete? And I don't mean that in the sense of the search for a soulmate. I mean, you felt like you yourself are somehow in two different places at once. Well, Véronique of Paris has felt that way her whole life, and Weronika of Krakow would be able to tell her why. Weronika was walking along Market Square in Krakow when she sees herself boarding a bus full of tourists.
I wish I could give more to the synopsis. This movie is brilliant, but there's really no way to put it into words. Even though I could say that not much happens in the plot, I can't deny that my eyes were glued to the TV. The feeling evoked from the film is absolutely haunting - and that's a word I use sparsely ( -- it's also one of my favorite words!).
Through Irène Jacob's performance, the audience is put into a constant state of unease. We are immediately in league with Véronique and can sense every nuance of her emotional state, and everyone else is a mystery. There are even characters that we see multiple times, watching Véronique, and we never learn who it is that's watching her.
I would normally be ashamed of myself to leave the post here, but reading other reviews, I know that this is one of the hardest films to write about. I could sit here for weeks trying to come up with something without success. All I can say is, this is a beautiful movie that instills feelings in me that no other film has. Will certainly be looking up more of Kieslowski's works.
Fun Trivia (Stolen from IMDB):
- Kieslowski originally wanted Andie MacDowell to play Veronique.
- The text sung by Weronika in the Concert is actually the beginning of the second Chant of Dante's Paradiso: "O voi che siete in piccioletta barca, desiderosi d'ascoltar, seguiti dietro al mio legno che cantando varca, Non vi mettete in pelago, ché forse, perdendo me, rimarreste smarriti. L'acqua ch'io prendo giá mai non si corse; Minerva spira è conducemi Appollo, è nove Muse mi dimostran l'Orse." Dante, Paradiso, II, 1-9.