1993 drama, dir. Krzysztof Kieślowski, Juliette Binoche, Benoît
Régent; IMDb /
allmovie. After the great
composer dies in a car crash, his widow tries to pick up her life.
I love the cinematography here, especially in the early wordless
moments when we establish what's going on without having to be told
about it. When Julie sees the televised funeral from her hospital bed,
the commentary is intrusive.
But there's also the blue light of inspiration—or is it the blue light
of powerful emotion? Is there really a difference? Is Julie
deliberately desaturated compared with Lucille, her prostitute
neighbour? Probably.
And then there are the bursts of music in Julie's head, that somehow
she has to get down on paper so that other people can hear it.
Honestly these impressions are rather better than the actual plot,
which disappointed me by showing Julie choosing a conventional
resolution in the end; yes, all right, it is by her own choice, but
it's still what everyone was pressing her to do from the moment of the
accident. And what I'd really like to know is whether Julie ever had a
musical career in her own right; she clearly knows what she's doing,
which you don't pick up just by fetching and carrying for the Great
Man, but we never hear about anything she might have given up to marry
him.
Still a beautiful film, and one I enjoyed, but it's strongest in its
impressions and weakest where it connects with conventional ideas of
narrative.
I talk about this film further on Ribbon of
Memes.