The Second Criterion: The Double Life of Veronique

When discussing The Double Life of Veronique, a lot of people make the mistake of approaching the film more from a metaphysical sense. Yes, a lot of what makes the film compelling are the ideas surrounding the notion of identity and the soul, metaphysical concepts, but to purely explore these ideas in the film is to neglect how much of the film is a sensory experience.

Weronika (Irène Jacob) feels the rain on her face in the opening scene. Later, her doppelgänger Véronique (also played by Irène Jacob) will see a play that moves her and glance at the reflection of Alexandre Fabbri (Philippe Volter), the puppeteer behind the show. Véronique will later visit her father and savor the fragrance of a perfume he is working on. The shift in the film from Weronika to Véronique happens amid Véronique making love, the ultimate physical experience.

The point is that while Krzysztof Kieslowski and Krzysztof Piesiewicz write a story that explores a connection beyond the physical—these doubles are connected without any connection of biological descent that the audience knows of—both characters are grounded in tactile, physical experiences. Both play with a rubber ball and fiddle with a piece of string. Sure, these are visual tomes that tie them together, but they are also sensory connections they have to the world around them.

And yet, these characters are connected on a deeper level. Véronique is introduced to the audience when she feels the pain of Weronika’s smashed finger, sucking at a wound Weronika has. Likewise, they lead similar lives. Both are interested in pursuing the possibility of a singing career and both have strong relationships with their father.

In many ways (as the title of the film suggests) they seem to be doubles. The idea of double is reinforced throughout the film: reflections in a mirror and photographs are recurring images. Both own a small rubber ball that they gaze into as it reflects the world around them. It’s almost as if the rubber ball is a conduit between two worlds, two different lives the character might have had.

But how is it that Weronika’s death early in the film signals Véronique to change her life? Weronika dies while singing, which somehow Véronique feels so deeply that she quits her music lessons even though she is not sure why. Like most of Kieslowski’s later films, the story makes connections but doesn’t necessarily answer why. They are connected, but the nature of what that relationship means and how it works is elusive.

The Double Life of Veronique presents a world in which both the sensory and the spiritual are ways in which one connects to the world around them. But how this connection works remains mysterious, enigmatic, and perhaps undefinable. Kieslowski and Piesiewicz tell a tale that leaves the audience lingering with very basic questions about human existence. The only definitive element is that the individual is connected to something beyond themselves.

However, this is not the most difficult aspect of The Double Life of Veronique. Throughout the film, Véronique keeps crossing paths with Alexandre and writer of children’s stories who keeps crossing paths with . When she first sees him, he puts on a puppet show in the school she works at. It tells a story of a ballerina who is wounded, dies, and is reborn. There’s a clear parallel between Weronika and Véronique.

Yet Alexandre’s role doesn’t stop there. He begins calling her on the phone, sending her strange objects that might express that he too knows of the connection between Weronika and Véronique. He hints at knowledge that suggests he’s almost godlike in his knowledge, and perhaps even has influence over the two women. He’s a puppeteer, a man hiding behind the curtains controlling figures, and in a late scene in the film he makes two puppets of Veronique. Is this all just happenstance or is he somehow manipulating or guiding them?

If Alexandre has some control over Weronika/Véronique, this opens up a whole new set of questions about what he represents. Does he embody a cruel, meddling god who plays a game for his own amusement, pleasure and curiosity, or does he also deeply care for those he governs, attempting to guide Véronique into a better way? Once again, the film doesn’t presume to answer, only to ask.

The richness of the film and its themes is that it gives sharp definition to the questions, but doesn’t presume to answer them. This makes it a film worth returning to as one is likely to develop new interpretations or refine the same one with multiple viewings. By embracing the mystery and complexity of life, its pleasures, pains and indefinability, The Double Life of Veronique is a film that continues to deliver a rich and thoughtful experience with each viewing.

In case you missed it, here’s the introduction for this column.