Two
exact look-alikes, the Polish Weronika and the
French Véronique, inhabit the world of Krzysztof
Kieslowski’s memorable The Double Life of
Véronique. Both women are played by the same
actress, the radiant Iréne Jacob, winner of the
Best Actress award at the 1991 Cannes Film
Festival. Born on the same day, they have green
eyes and dark hair, congenital heart problems,
and are talented singers, one a music teacher,
the other a choir soprano, though each has a
somewhat different personality. By its very
nature, the story defies rational explanation
and Kieslowski does not offer any, but the
premise suggests that the separate self is an
illusion, a projection of mind rather than an
inherent expression of ultimate reality.
Shot in Krakow, Poland and Paris, France, the
film is suffused with the stunning
cinematography of Slawomir Idziak and a sublime
score by Zbigniew Preisner beginning with the
song she sung by Weronica at her debut concert
in Krakow. Weronica’s story fills the movie’s
first thirty minutes. Weronica’s exuberance and
childlike innocence are captured in the film’s
early moments when, after an outdoor choir
performance, she remains standing wide-eyed in
the pouring rain, looking up at the sky, as the
others run for shelter.
Strangely though, Weronica tells others about an
odd feeling that she is not alone, a feeling
that is reinforced when she catches a glimpse of
her doppelganger, Véronique, in the center of a
Krakow square photographing a political protest
demonstration (though she does not pursue her or
mention the incident to family or friends).
Though Weronica’s desire to be a pianist was
thwarted in an accident, her beautiful singing
voice enables her to win a competition to join a
musical company. As the young singer begins to
perform her first concert, however, her heart
condition sadly prevents her from continuing and
the film shifts the remainder of its attention
to Véronique.
As we first see Véronique, she is in the middle
of making love but suddenly bursts into tears
without explanation, the incident occurring at
the same moment when Weronika suffers serious
heart problems at her concert in Krakow.
Véronique has given up a promising singing
career because she intuitively knows that it is
“wrong for her” and instead becomes a music
teacher of young children. During this same
period she also schedules a cardiogram as if she
has had some kind of warning. The film is
propelled by the emotions Véronique is
experiencing: a strange feeling of being alone
in a suddenly uncertain world and an unexplained
sense of loss.
The mystery deepens when she begins to receive
enigmatic packages in the mail from Alexandre
(Philippe Volter), a puppeteer whose exquisite
marionette performance she has seen and whose
gifts are tied to objects from his children's
stories. Concluding from listening to a cassette
tape that was recorded at the Saint Lazare train
station, she meets Alexandre, but her
expectations of love are thwarted by his mundane
reasons for the subterfuge, although it serves
to enhance her sense of closeness with Weronica.
Though it is tempting to search for some sort of
explanation, The Double Life of Veronique is
better off not being analyzed but should be
savored for its elusive and impenetrable poetry.
If it has any point to make other than its
captivating quality as a work of art, it may be
that, in life, energy is wasted in trying to
figure things out and that the only thing that
makes sense is to submerge ourselves in its
beauty and succumb to its mystery.
GRADE: A
