Three Colors: BlueGrief can be an overpowering emotion, driving us to extremes. For Julie (Juliette Binoche), in the wake of a terrible automobile accident which claims the lives of her husband and daughter, it freezes her over completely, as she withdraws inward to avoid the pain. Blue is the first in the Three Colors trilogy by director Krzysztof Kieślowski, with each film founded upon a theme represented in the three colors of the French flag, where the color blue represents "liberty". Even within the context of this theme, Blue challenges the concept of freedom, of liberty, and its merits in Julie's life after her prior world has fallen away.
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It becomes clear soon into the picture that Julie's marriage was not joyous, although she loved her daughter intensely. Nevertheless, the pain that comes with the revelation of their demise is ruinous to her, and after a failed suicide attempt, she simply closes all the doors and refuses to let herself shed a tear. Julie's solution to run from her pain is to run away from her past--she packs up and moves to a loft apartment, discards her married name for her maiden one, and spends her time alone, occasionally visiting a coffee shop to hear the flautist across the street perform an all-too familiar piece of music. The music that is performed is special, for it was to be the selection delivered by her husband Patrice (Hugues Quester) to signify the Unification of Europe. After his death, Julie discards the sheet music into the garbage, never expecting to hear it again. But like the tune which the flautist refuses to acknowledge he retrieved from the trash, all too many ubiquitous reminders chip away at the great wall she has erected to shut out her feelings. Julie takes great pains--even self-inflicted ones--to ceremoniously discard her past. She clears out the old house, leaving only a mattress, which she calls a colleague of her husband's and her friend, Olivier (Benoît Régent), to come over to sleep with her, since she is aware he loves her, or thinks he loves her. Prior to this revoking of her marriage vows, she purges mementos left behind, including a great scene where she discovers a piece of candy her daughter was eating prior to the accident. Julie eats the candy without any satisfaction, hastily devouring it and burning the remnants in the fireplace. At this stage in her sorrow, she treats these acts as sacraments, a kind of emotional cleansing in her mind, which is but one more step into the oubliette of her soul.
Julie finds herself challenged again and again, especially when she discovers a mother of a litter of mice in her pantry. Although she does not wish to leave the mice in her apartment, she goes to great lengths to avoid throwing them out or killing them herself. The reminder of her motherhood is still a sharp pain, one which she does not wish to inflict upon another. Julie is a good person, so when tested to be cold and callous--occasionally represented by spontaneous fade to blacks, only to reappear in the same moment--she occasionally falters, her humanity peeking through. When a man is being beaten outside her window, and he races into her apartment complex, presumably for aid, she hesitates to offer help, although she does leave her apartment eventually. There is a great irony in this scene when she notices the window near her place is open. As she steps out toward the stairs, her own door locks behind her, leaving her stranded in the hall now--when God opens a window, he closes a door. One of the most important efforts to break down her icy shell is when Olivier appears on television to describe how he is attempting to complete the unfinished concerto of Patrice, although he would be unable to gain the assistance of Julie. Her response is to track him down to proclaim that he has no right to finish it, since she thought she had destroyed it and wanted it forgotten. There is more than a few hints over the film to suggest that Patrice did less composing than the public believes, and that Julie was the true maestro--her reactions and eventual contributions to the work reinforce that suspicion. The music selection is a powerful piece, that resembles at times Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's "Requiem"--a "mass for the dead". And similar to Milos Forman's Amadeus, Julie and Olivier are drawn together at a deeper level by their mutual love for music, and a need to overcome other trials they suffer. It is no surprise here, but the color blue is featured prominently throughout the film, from candy wrappers to swimming pools, and especially a set of glass chimes, dark as the deep blue sea. All of these totems and temples are reminders of the pain--if even subconsciously--which Julie feels, and she does feel (dare I say) quite blue. As Julie begins to redress her humanity, the icy exterior thaws, and her world--and other in it--are unified in their own way.
Recommended for: Fans of a bold thematic vision of grief and loss, and the psychological response to avoid coping with the intense sorrow which follows.
Julie finds herself challenged again and again, especially when she discovers a mother of a litter of mice in her pantry. Although she does not wish to leave the mice in her apartment, she goes to great lengths to avoid throwing them out or killing them herself. The reminder of her motherhood is still a sharp pain, one which she does not wish to inflict upon another. Julie is a good person, so when tested to be cold and callous--occasionally represented by spontaneous fade to blacks, only to reappear in the same moment--she occasionally falters, her humanity peeking through. When a man is being beaten outside her window, and he races into her apartment complex, presumably for aid, she hesitates to offer help, although she does leave her apartment eventually. There is a great irony in this scene when she notices the window near her place is open. As she steps out toward the stairs, her own door locks behind her, leaving her stranded in the hall now--when God opens a window, he closes a door. One of the most important efforts to break down her icy shell is when Olivier appears on television to describe how he is attempting to complete the unfinished concerto of Patrice, although he would be unable to gain the assistance of Julie. Her response is to track him down to proclaim that he has no right to finish it, since she thought she had destroyed it and wanted it forgotten. There is more than a few hints over the film to suggest that Patrice did less composing than the public believes, and that Julie was the true maestro--her reactions and eventual contributions to the work reinforce that suspicion. The music selection is a powerful piece, that resembles at times Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's "Requiem"--a "mass for the dead". And similar to Milos Forman's Amadeus, Julie and Olivier are drawn together at a deeper level by their mutual love for music, and a need to overcome other trials they suffer. It is no surprise here, but the color blue is featured prominently throughout the film, from candy wrappers to swimming pools, and especially a set of glass chimes, dark as the deep blue sea. All of these totems and temples are reminders of the pain--if even subconsciously--which Julie feels, and she does feel (dare I say) quite blue. As Julie begins to redress her humanity, the icy exterior thaws, and her world--and other in it--are unified in their own way.
Recommended for: Fans of a bold thematic vision of grief and loss, and the psychological response to avoid coping with the intense sorrow which follows.