Goodbyes

Kieslowski doesn’t give us a lot of time to get to know Weronika. We are thrown right into the plot and given only subtle hints about her inner life. I wrote earlier that there is nothing mysterious about Weronika, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t confusing, especially to a rather simple young man like her boyfriend Antek. There’s something very child-like about her, a confidence mixed with naivete. She is self assured, but also gives off a sense that she has no idea what she’s doing.

The scene opens with her wandering around her room in her aunt’s house in her underwear, pondering what she’s going to wear to her performance, I suppose. There are no blinds on the windows, peeping toms could gaze at will. But this isn’t the only thing Weronika seems blissfully ignorant about. She seems to be about to jump into a musical performance despite having no rehearsals — at least none viewers have been shown. She also just had a heart attack, but didn’t think twice about going to a doctor, even though her mother and grandmother both died suddenly, likely from heart disease.

Kieslowski’s films are closer to fables than realistic films, so it’s best to not ask too many questions. Still, Weronika’s attitude is not accidental. Kieslowski intends her to float above reality, to be angelic, charmed in a sense. She’s beautiful, beloved and has the voice of an angel. What could possibly go wrong?

As she is pondering her rather simple what to wear question, Weronika notices an old woman carting two heavy grocery bags. This is a recurring trope in Kieslowski films, something I examined in “Three Colors: Blue” in the form of an old woman having trouble putting a bottle into the recycling bin. Kieslowski shows these scenes for a reason. When he was a young man, he and his friends thoughtlessly and cruelly made fun of an old woman struggling with heavy bags on a Warsaw street. He was haunted by his behavior, and felt it a form of penance to include a woman like this in ever film to remind him to be compassionate of people’s everyday struggles.

In this example, Weronika calls out and asks the woman if she should come down and help her. The woman briefly looks up and ignores her.

Shortly after this, the camera cuts to Weronika’s aunt, who looks at her niece in her underwear, seemingly puzzled. She asks if she’s getting dressed. Well, obviously not yet! But Weronika’s attention seems to snap back with this gentle critique.

We now enter the concert hall, and it’s an intimidating sight. It appears to be the same place her casting was decided. We also now see that the older man who hired her is the conductor. It’s a serious orchestra that also includes a full choir section and a second lead singer to double Weronika’s vocals. The performance is somewhat odd — we can’t hear any of the instruments or the choir backup singers, only Weronika’s lead vocals. Irene Jacob is not a singer, her vocals were dubbed for the film. Actually, a Swiss native, she learned Polish for the film, but Kieslowski was not satisfied with her accent, so her dialogue for Weronika was dubbed by another actress as well. It’s fair to ask, what exactly is this performance beyond Jacob looking pretty? We’ve have to wait for her Veronique role to fairly judge her acting talent.

What Jacob communicates throughout the scene is focus and stress. The performance seems to be taxing every ounce of her energy. The scene looks and sounds beautiful, but the only truly memorable part of it is the sight of Weronika collapsing to the ground mid song. The camera pans over the heads of the audience — as if Weronika’s soul is escaping. We notice how old the audience appears to be.  Several people rush onstage, we don’t know if any are doctors. In fact, it seems to be the conductor who walks over and takes her pulse, announcing that she is dead.

The final scene in Weronika’s all too short cinematic life — barely 30 minutes of screen time — takes place from a glass topped casket, where we look up from her point of view to see her mourners, including Antek, her aunt, her father and the musical director who discovered her. The shovel dirt onto the casket one at a time. Some hold flowers, but do not drop them on the casket yet. Everyone looks sad, but no one seems devastated, as if what happened was both tragic and completely predictable.

Weronika took great comfort from a feeling she did not understand and could not articulate — that she was not alone in the world. The rest of the film will focus on her soul twin. When we get to the story of “Three Colors: Red” I’m going to propose a radical theory that there was a third version of her in the world as well. Valentine, the hero of the “Three Colors” cycle, arguably lives the life that Weronika’s potential promised, but sadly missed.