In a similar spirit, I am moved to declare that this atheist's principles falter when he gazes upon Irène Jacob. She's appeared in little of note for the past 20 years, but I treasure her roles in two Krzysztof Kieślowski films -- Trois Couleurs: Rouge and The Double Life of Veronique -- so thoroughly that I'm in some ways disinclined to spoil that by viewing her in lesser art. (U.S. Marshals, anyone? Help yourself.)
Although Veronique is the earlier performance, I saw Rouge first, and it remains my indelible image of her: young, beautiful, and unaware of a role in a drama that seems to operate above the human level. Veronique, not surprisingly, pursues similar themes. In fact, many of Kieślowski's stories explore that foreboding feeling of what Robert Frost referred to as "design." Even to consider that possibility is unnerving, disorienting.
Not to dwell on the themes, here, but it does make a difference. Jacob is not unaware in an innocent way. This is not a virginal thing. Her sexuality is explored quite frankly in Veronique. Nor is she simply an ingenue, in need of a man to complete her. In Rouge, the man who has the greatest effect on her may or may not be god (or perhaps an avatar), and he appears to need her more than she needs him.
But there is a delicacy in her beauty that seems to make her the angel of this ironically vengeful god. And in Veronique, the universe seems to be able to support only her beauty; twice that much seems to tip the scales too much. But delicate features without projecting weakness or meekness -- strong and distinct -- and not an oval-faced cherub, but the kind of angel who might be hiding a sword in her gowns. Her figure lean and elegant, but muscular. Her window scene in Veronique is stunning for that reason -- she is beautiful, but not willowy. Perhaps it is not even worth describing her. Let a thousand words be spared.
Amazing...
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