Three Colours: Red

The final film, in 1994, of Kieslowski's trilogy. This is an excellent film, perhaps the most rounded and satisfying in the series. It is not necessarilly 'better', but it is at least the equal of each of the other films in the trilogy.
We have throughout been rather confused by the very simple nature of the direction, the close-ups and the wider shots, identifaction usually, not hugely excited formalism in framing. This simplicity extends to the montage; Kieslowski gives us quite a simple chronological time, nicely done. The entire film is, then, in the frame. The light and the action, the plot, it is all within the confines of the frame itself. This makes it peculiarly plot-centric. It shows Kieslowski is a master at a number of styles; 'Veronique' being one of the most ingenious arthouse films (with a capital A ) in its use of imagery, symbolism and montage, it is a real show of range, if a tiny little dissapointing in that it did not quite meet those expectations.
We again have the use of the title colour in the film. This has obvious emotional resonaces, even, if it is a little bit of a game Kieslowski is playing.
This films major theme is of how much do you really want to know? Where does public meet the private, where do the bounds of society lie? All tackled fascinatingly, much within a political perspective too. The lead female and male are both utterly terrific; their relationship is genuinely touching, it confounds expectations, it is a great relationship of realist understatement. It chimes utterly, it has a certain heaviness to it that is built up through small effects throughout the running time. We end up considering what is it like to live with others, what is a stranger, what is a fellow citizen. Yes, we must love, but what is this? Why?
The last five mintutes could perhaps be done without, a little bit overwrought and too neat.
This film has been very different from expected, much neater formally, much less arthouse than expected. We had three snappy and fast films, plot driven. In each, though, resonated wider hours which would take hours, lifetimes, never, to pull apart. Rightly recognised as a fine collection of work.