The Double Life of Véronique

I thought on New Year's Day it would be appropriate to see something presented by Janus Films, the legendary film distributor named for the two-faced Roman god of beginnings and endings, and the namesake of the first month of the Western calendar. Thinking it over during the day, then later looking over the pile of discs, what captured my attention was not a Janus release but instead "The Double Life of Véronique," the Criterion Collection edition of Krzysztof Kieślowski's dual-identity dreamscape from 1991.

Being born under the sign of Pisces and knowing a little something about going in two different directions at the same time, I knew this title would satisfy my need to look backward and forward simultaneously.

At times it doesn't even seem so much a case of dual identity, but simply of dual languages, with the spoken word serving as one of the few disguises between the two worlds easily inhabited by Irène Jacob. No wildly varying hairstyles, jarring costume changes or extreme mannerisms are used to differentiate between her roles. Perhaps they are the same person, and we are the ones who are led to believe otherwise?

On first viewing, I tend to gloss over the Higher Meaning that might be discovered when language is used to set characters apart. I usually let the picture tell the story as much as possible, and "Double Life" shines as a visual poem. Reflections and refractions fill the screen without seeming overly sentimental, and a feeling of emotional connection and loss comes through. Clever camera angles and optical tricks are employed by Kieślowski to let us in on Véronique/Weronika's split state of mind without becoming cliché "dream sequences."

I'm speaking here of a shot through the window of a train, with a small crease in the glass magnified to the point that it literally breaks her (and our) view of the town outside into two distinct pieces. This common touch, of looking out a window and becoming mesmerized by the imperfections of the glass itself, is the sort of visual genius this film displays.

And since it's a Criterion edition, I'll have plenty of time to get schooled on the Higher Meaning, the small gestures, the words and angles and yes maybe even the hairstyles and costume changes. If the three short films, the essays, the multiple interviews and documentaries aren't enough, the audio commentary might finally teach me what I might be missing.