The Double Life of Véronique

The Double Life of Véronique ★★★★½

“All my life I’ve felt I was in two places at the same time. Here and somewhere else.”

Almost impossible to describe the actuality of The Double Life of Véronique, rather than the feeling of it that you experience. It’s monumentally magical, sweet, hypnotising and emotional, exploring the thematic mosaic of a double existence through metaphysical connection and divine circumstance. Immaculately a clearly understandable narrative that does not feel like a narrative.

It’s like the recondite nature of a half remembered dream and the inability to fully capture, in expression, the specificities of it; the familiarity lies in how it made you feel, but you’ll always find yourself searching over the exact strokes that built up the dream, failing to recount its exact actuality.

And that’s the beauty of this particularly Kieślowski picture, in that it’s a musing on the reflections of our life’s small moments, capturing bits and pieces, memoirs of a certain type of reality, but never fully comprehending the big picture of what the extent of that reality fully is as a whole. There’s a sort of spiritual beauty that occupies The Double Life of Véronique, and perhaps even marks an impression on the divinity of being human, and the ofttimes irrational nature of our existence and the very essence that defines it.

It’s a particular gem of a film that questions our reality and the quasi-undefined truths of grappling with our very existence. Are we singular, or is there more to us, a connection beyond the individual? Is the feeling of duality that of indifference within our spirits, or is it a dual rift in the nature of our seemingly singular existence?

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