Homage

In a 1995 interview, Krzysztof Kieslowski described the stories that attract him this way:

It comes from a deep-rooted conviction that if there is anything worthwhile doing for the sake of culture, then it is touching on subject matters and situations which link people, and not those that divide people. There are too many things in the world which divide people, such as religion, politics, history, and nationalism. … Feelings are what link people together, because the word ‘love’ has the same meaning for everybody. Or ‘fear’, or ‘suffering’. We all fear the same way and the same things. And we all love in the same way. That’s why I tell about these things, because in all other things I immediately find division.

He may sound life affirming in that quote, but Kieslowski is anything but lighthearted in the way he examines subjects like love and unity. He’s a deep pessimist, so he reaches the light through a great deal of darkness. Cinema is a wonderful metaphor for his worldview, something experienced in darkness, with light displayed on a screen and slowly seeping into our consciousness. When viewing a Kieslowski film, it’s important to remember that he deeply loved the art form and often threw in hat tips or outright homages to other films throughout his work.

”Blue,” for example, is heavily indebted to “The Unbearable Lightness of Being,” both the 1988 film directed by Philip Kaufman and the 1984 Milan Kundera novel. I’ve never seen an interview with Kieslowski where he discussed either the novel or the film, but it’s possible to view “Blue” as an alternate adaptation of the book, one that comes far closer to finding Kundera’s authentic tone (which is not at all surprising, since both men were products of Cold War Eastern Europe.)

The most obvious connection to “The Unbearable Lightness of Being” was the casting of Juliette Binoche, who played Tereza in Kaufman’s film. Her character is the symbol of heaviness and responsibility in the story, the one who grounds Tomas to Czechoslovakia, family and fidelity. Since most international filmgoers were introduced to Binoche through that film (although she was already well known in France via a stunning debut in the wildly uneven film “Rendez-vous”), those feelings associated with Tereza carry over to “Blue.” The film version of “The Unbearable Lightness of Being” ends with a car crash, one we assume kills both Tomas and Tereza. But “Blue” picks up with the main character’s survival, making it an examination of a similar character who goes on with her life after tragedy.

I will have much more to say about the connections between “Blue” and “The Unbearable Lightness of Being” in essays to come—and will also note the surprising influence of Martin Scorsese’s “The Last Temptation of Christ” to the film. But now, let’s return to the film.

We hear Julie’s breathing before we hear her voice. The breath is moving some strands of hair. A doctor approaches and asks if she is able to talk. What follows is one of the most brutal examples of “bedside manner” that I’ve ever witnessed. Julie never gives verbal consent and the camera trains on her huge brown eyes (more prominent circles) that look terrified about what’s coming. The doctor is actually seen through a reflection in her eyes, which is an incredible cinematic trick.

The doctor asks if she was conscious for the crash. She does not respond. He jumps right in, saying that he’s sorry to inform her that her husband died in the crash. Julie’s eyes do not seem to register anything with that news. But she quickly looks up at him and asks “Anna?” The doctor responds “yes, your daughter too.” Julie closes her eyes and buries her head to this answer.

The scene cuts to a window smashing. This is Julie creating a diversion in the hospital ward so that she has time to look for pills to swallow. A nurse is alerted right away and calls in activity, confused and concerned about what is happening. Meanwhile Julie finds the keys to a medicine cabinet, one that doesn’t seem terribly secure because it’s a glass cabinet, and finds a pill jar to take out.

She puts the pills her mouth but then quickly spits them back into her hand. She sees the nurse through the window and reacts much like a child caught by a mother doing something naughty. She tells her that she couldn’t do it and apologizes for breaking the windows. The nurse compassionately tells her they will fix the window. I get the sense from this scene that the nurse reminds her of her mother and we will see later that she does bear some physical resemblance to her.

What happens in this short but alarming segment is an important foreshadow of the plot and a direct tell of Julie’s character: she is capable of plotting destructive and divisive acts, but in the end, she can’t carry them out. Her responsibility and sense of ethics always takes over. As the scene ends, she is back in bed with her sorrow and bruises. She is alive, even thought she has lost the will to live.