Customer Reviews

Three Colors: White

5 star:		(23)
4 star:		(12)
3 star:		(4)
2 star:		(4)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

This film is the second in Krzysztof Kieslowski's "Trois Couleurs" trilogy ("Blue," "White," and "Red," after the colors of the French flag). While it contains some quite surprising plot twists, overall it doesn't have the same emotional impact as the first and last movies do.

Zbigniew Zamachowski plays Karol Karol, a Polish immigrant living in Paris with his wife, Dominique (Julie Delpy). As the film opens, Karol and Dominique are in divorce court; she wants the divorce, he doesn't. She wins, and he is left with nothing but a large suitcase -- in which he manages to send himself back to Poland, with unexpected results.

While white is traditionally the color of marriage, in this film it is the color of divorce. Throughout the movie the sky is a bleak, almost colorless shade of white, reflecting Karol's mood. The divorce proceedings take place in a white marble courtyard, and after the hearing Dominique drives away in a white car. When Karol returns to Poland, the countryside is buried under a layer of snow. More than that, the color symbolizes the sterility of their marriage: Dominique's grounds for divorce are that the marriage has never been consummated.

For the rest of the film, Karol struggles to rebuild his life and to win back Dominique. The movie is enjoyable, with highly original subplots. The actors turn in fine performances, and the direction (as one would expect from Kieslowski) is intriguing without being heavy-handed. However, for a film that focuses on such emotional topics as love and death, it fails to rouse intense emotions in the viewer. END

In downtown Warsaw, where so much of "White" is set, there was an electric sign celebrating Poland's recent release from the Iron Curtain of communism by praising Bill Clinton and splashing around an American flag. The electric sign, though, was not like the monumental Panasonic sign in New York's Times Square. Rather it was more comparable to the signs composed of light bulbs that can be found in major league baseball stadiums. I thought of that sign many times throughout "White," how meager it looked in a nation already so deprived. "White" deals with the disillusionment and failure of one man who represents the disappointment of a nation. When the protagonist, Karol, returns to Warsaw from Paris, after being rejected and betrayed by his French wife, Dominique, through divorce and infidelity, and by the French court, whom Karol believes has cheated him in the divorce by giving him nothing because he cannot speak French (both a clear metaphor for the West's disregard of Poland), he is greeted by a city where bands of thieves roam the land like the Middle Ages, and gangster capitalists own everything and can buy anything. Karol then aspires to become part of this amoral ruling class, thereby becoming more equal than anybody else. In "White," besides the inequitable wealth between Karol and his fellow Polish countrymen, there is an intricate interplay between the affluence of the West and the lowered expectations of Poland. In Paris, Karol and is wife owned a clean well-lit salon, but back in Warsaw, his brother's salon has little more than a gaudy electric sign to distinguish it from the days of communist rule, and it is located along a muddy, unpaved road. A loan shark, who hires Karol to protect him, gives Karol what amounts to a cap gun as his weapon. And even an expensive office building in downtown Warsaw only has a few phone jacks. This comparison is perhaps Kieslowski's message that there is no perfect equality, either within a nation (as demonstrated through both Karol's amassed wealth and influence, and the discrimination against his at the hands of the French judicial system) or between nations. Kieslowski also suggests, through the relationship between Karol and Dominique, that perhaps love can bridge this gap.

Mouse's revenge

WHITE is one in a trilogy of French films also comprising BLUE and RED.

As the film opens, Polish emigre Karol Karol (Zbigniew Zamachowski) arrives in a Parisian court for his divorce hearing. His wife, the ravishing Dominique (Julie Delpy), is giving him the toss because he no longer satisfies her sexually, although she admits he was hot stuff when they first met in Warsaw.

After the dissolution of the marriage is decreed, Dominique dumps Karol's possessions, all contained in a large trunk, into the car park and drives off. Karol soon discovers that she's also cut off his access to their joint bank account. Karol, now down and out and soliciting handouts in the Paris Metro, absorbs the abuse without any overt sign of anger, even after his ex figuratively pushes his nose into the fact that she's copulating with another man. Karol is the meekest and most inoffensive of men. Let's not mince words; he's a wimp.

With the help of another Pole, Mikolaj (Janusz Gajos), Karol returns to Warsaw by an unusual route. Once arrived, he literally ends up in a ditch. Rock bottom is a hard place.

Karol is an award-winning hairdresser, and he begins working in his brother's beauty shop. Through good luck and a series of shrewd moves unrelated to the hair trade, he becomes rich. And it's also clear that he remains obsessed with Dominique.

WHITE is somewhat less subtle than BLUE, and therefore demands less cerebral exercise on the part of the viewer; BLUE tries too hard to be obscure. Karol is an enormously endearing character, much like a puppy that's been kicked. And, though we don't know what his grand strategy is, we recognize that he has a plan that he's clearly implementing. The lovely Juliette Binoche in BLUE is a more aloof figure as she struggles to recover from a family tragedy, and it's only from close-ups of her face that the audience can infer what's going on inside. WHITE is thus, to this viewer, the more satisfying of the two.

Zamachowski's performance is solid, and Mikolaj is the friend that anybody could hope for. And Delpy's Dominique is eye candy that would drive any sober man on a fevered quest.

It's said that revenge is a dish that's best eaten cold, and WHITE suggests such a meal. The very last scene strongly implies, however, that Karol ultimately lacks the requisite dispassion.

'White' is a refreshing improvement on its portentous predecessor 'Blue', a dazzling tragicomedy about an impotent Polish hairdresser, Karol, who is unceremoniously divorced by his Parisian wife, thrown out onto the streets without a sou, a possport or much French. Busking on the Metro, he meets a fellow Pole, the lugubrious Mikolaj, who smuggles him back to their home country. Determined to exact revenge on his wife, Karol begins to trade very profitably on the black market.

Maybe it's because Kieslowski is back in Poland, but 'White' is a much 'lighter' film than its predecessor, not in the sense of insubstantial, but in the director's relaxing the grip of his elaborate style, allowing his effects emanate from his story, his wonderful characters and the Polish landscape overlooking the post-communist embrace of (crooked) Western capitalism. Though still glossy compared to his earlier films, the relentless striving for poetic preciosity that marred 'Blue' is checked. Perhaps the return to Poland allowed Kieslowski to make an authentically East European film, a kind of absurdist shaggy dog story, its black comedy aching with anguish. The almost-ridiculous, little-man clown-hero could have bumbled from Gogol or Kafka (or silent cinema?), rumpled, besuited, a bit roly-poly, self-important despite being victim to a fate with a very sick, humiliating sense of humour - his admiring gaze at one of the film's many pigeons ends with dirt sliming down his shirt, just before a court appearance; the bank teller who cuts his frozen credit card is suitably, bureaucratically, inexorably faceless.

The film's comic tension emerges from the disparity between the character's unintentional individuality, his being made seem eccentric because of the unfortunate things inflicted on him, and others' reaction to him; and his dehumanisation, both comically, as he is smuggled by suitcase to Poland, a devalued commodity fetish, only to be purloined by airport thieves, and, more bleakly, in the hardening of his soul as he becomes more successful at being a capitalist - the ironic message of 'White' seems to be that money and power is the key to sexual potency. Karol's natural self was deemed a social failure, so he has to play a part, even if it risks killing his soul, even if he must play a corpse, become his own ghost though he tries to assert the primacy of his body. His progress is symbolised in the film by the importance of language (translating, interpreting and misunderstanding), with epiphany only possibly with its transcendence in a physical, non-verbal communication, perhaps the human equivalent of what Kieslowski tried to do in his films, reach viewers through pure cinema.

Like 'Blue', and all his films, 'White' is structured around recurring and reconfigured imagery - birds, suitcases, glass, statues, combs, 'lucky' coins, snow etc., - but, again, because they belong to the story's world, rather than being imposed on it by a style, they seem much more effective.

'White' isn't perfect - the plot is damaged by nagging implausibilities, and the film certainly dips in the second half, but that's inevitable after the fleet comic energy preceeding it, swept along by the tango melodies of Zbigniew Preisner's score, a welcome contrast to the bombast of 'Blue', and again more rooted to place. Once again, Kieslowski's irony, his play with viewpoint and fantasy, suggests we don't take his images or plot developments at face value.

I'm not an easy consumer of films---I've never seen E.T., nor Jaws nor Jurassic Park, nor most of the Indiana Jones films, my interests are most esoteric, creative. I slept thru the day and subsequently wa sup teh night with nothing to do so I dug out my video tapes that I hadn't seen yet. First Blue and then White. White is amazing. Little Karol is heartbreaking adorable and ... and as he progresses through the film becomes almost dynamic, ..., charismatic with the power he soon weilds. He's a simple man, simply in love with a woman who may or not have married him to bilk him---I wa snever quite clear if she saw an opportunity with this renowned Polish hairdresser or if he truly failed her in the marriage. She makes much of his impotence but it seems to stem from his worship and adore for her that he doesn't want to sully her with carnmal passions. Unfortunately she's a carnal woman. Finally Karol gets himself sent back to Poland in a suitcase (hilarious by itself) and goes to work for the quasi-Polish mob and eventually tricks them. What I appreciated most about this film was that Karol is not a dumb man, nor is he a loser, he's simply a man too far in love with someone who doesn't appreciate the depth of that love. Yet what make sthe film a masterstroke is the otherside that love comes out to---there is indeed a thin line between love and hate. The way the plot itself meanders, self aware of it's destination with only vague hints as to its' intentions also make this a triumph. Karol's love-revenge at the end is so subtle, so devilishly simple and yet a true, true comeuppance to this woman that it realizes itself as giving her what she wants, what she needs and then makes her ask for what he wants. If you love someone you set them free but if you adore someone you create a huge White space within their consciousness about ones self. Domonique will never, ever forget not truly begin to fathom Karol and how he loved her. It just occured to me that perhaps certain peopel don't understand love and must be put away for teh sake of those who love too much---another meditation on this film. Yes, I will be sending it to Aisha the Actress.

White can be pure or empty, bleak or beautiful. And "White" is also the second volume of Krzysztof Kieslowski's "Three Colors Trilogy," a witty and sharp tragicomedy about revenge. It's also the weak point hanging between the melancholy "Blue" and vibrant "Red," with its less likable characters and more unbelievable plotline.

Hairdresser Karol Karol (Zbigniew Zamachowski) is being coldly divorced by his beautiful wife Dominique (Julie Delpy) because she is sexually dissatisfied with him. She also strips him of his money and possessions, leaving him playing pitiful music at the subways. What's more, she rubs it in his face that she's now having sex with other men.

Things can't get worse, right? Wrong: Karol goes back to Poland and ends up getting beaten up and robbed. Via some not-so-legal methods, Karol builds himself an impressive fortune and becomes determined to get back at his cold, manipulative ex-wife. Amid a web of killing, seduction and faked death, Karol finds the perfect method to bring Dominique down...

"White" is certainly a successful black comedy -- it's sort of weirdly, freakily funny. Unfortunately, it's also the weakest of Kieslowski's "Colors" movies -- some of the plot devices seem too unbelievable (like Karol shipping himself in a trunk), and the tricks and twists of the plot are a little too much to swallow. However, the twisted love/hate relationship between Dominique and Karol is fascinating, and Karol's revenge is devilishly clever for what seems like a nice, goofy little man.

White is the color of wedding dresses and various other marriage-related things. But here, it's nothing so nice: an anti-color, a space where color isn't. It's snow, it's emptiness, it's colorless, it's passionless. Kieslowski's black comedy is sprinkled with white -- white cars, white skies, white marble, white snow. There's less grace in Kieslowski's direction, but the images he creates are still breathtakingly pretty and subtle. (The "sign language" scene is evidence enough)

Zamachowski has an underrated turn as Karol Karol. He seems like a nice, sweet guy who takes one kick in the teeth after another, kind of like a lost puppy. In a word: Loser. In another word: Wimp. Then he shows his dark side -- one that, on the outside, nobody would think Karol had. And Delpy does a lovely job making Dominique into a malicious schemer, without making her two-dimensionally nasty.

This droll dark comedy is a bit flawed, but it shows Kieslowski's unmistakable style and wit, and the acting is nearly impeccable. Call it a portrait in "White."

White (Krzysztof Kieslowski, 1994)

When I mentioned to people that I was in the midst of watching Three Colours, Kieslowski's celebrated film trilogy, for the first time, to a person, I got the same reaction: "oh, Blue is my favorite of the three, but the other two are really good as well!" Of course, if you've been following along, you know me: if there's a sacred cow around, I have an overwhelming urge to turn it into shish-kebab, and that may be part of the reason that, now that I've given myself a few weeks' perspective from all three films, I've landed on White as my favorite of the three. But it could also be that White is the film that, in some odd way that I can't quite put my finger on, most reminded me of Dekalog, my favorite Kieslowski offering. Even though Blue has the most surface connection to Dekalog, White has a great deal of that same mindset going on under the hood. Kieskowski's masterful morality play would have fit right in with Dekalog, I think.

The wonderfully-named Karol Karol (The Call of the Toad's Zbigniew Zamachowski) is a Polish expatriate barely getting by in Paris. His lovely young wife Dominique (Killing Zoe's Julie Delpy) has just divorced him after only six months, and he finds himself homeless. While playing a comb in the metro to pick up spare change, he meets Mikolaj (Aquarium's Janusz Gajos), a wealthy Polish businessman who wants Karol to come back to Poland with him to perform a service (saying what would be a spoiler). Things turn out unexpectedly in Poland, and Karol, who has never forgotten Dominique's betrayal, alternately tries to go on with his life without her and concocts absurd schemes to win her back.

I think one of the reasons I liked White more than the other two films is that, of the Kieslowski works I've seen (all the major films at this point, and a few of the shorts-- not nearly as many as I'd like), it's the out-and-out funniest; it requires a warped sense of humor, to be sure, but Karol is without doubt meant to be a comic figure, and Zamachowski's hapless portrayal is spot-on. Karol never feels entirely comfortable in his skin, whether he's on top of the world or at the bottom of the trash heap, and it's Zamachowski's excellent portrayal of Karol that makes this film a success as much as it is Kieslowski's impressive directorial skills. Whereas Juliette Binoche's character in Blue was never less than self-assured, even when she was entirely lost, Karol is her opposite; he's never self-assured even when he's most found. And yet neither Zamachowski nor Kieslowski ever overplay their hands; Karol is usually at least sympathetic, if not outright pathetic, but Zamachowski does it so well that even the well-worn cliché that forms the final movement of the film comes off as fresh and inviting.

White is Kieslowski at his finest, easily on a par with episodes five and seven of Dekalog. I cannot recommend the films of Kieslowski highly enough, if you haven't already experienced them; while I'd suggest starting with Dekalog, it does represent a serious chunk of time, and Three Colours gives you a taste of the genius without having to invest eleven hours and change. **** ½

I much prefer irony to tragedy, and after Blue I was not sure what to look forward to with White. I wound up liking White a lot. Movies about "the human condition" are, for me, almost invariably obvious. While this movie does quite a bit of exploring about how a man reacts to love and the withdrawing of love, impotence and the power of performance, revenge and a circling back to love, I thought it was handled with such off-hand, dead-pan humor as to be a very sweet film. In a way, it struck me as an amuse-bouche, one of those unexpected treats that a first-rate chef will surprise a good customer with at the start of a meal or sometimes in between courses. The movie has that quality of freshness and unexpectedness.

Zbigniew Zamachowski does a masterful job as Karol, a sad sack if there ever was one, who gradually shows determination as well as obsession. I suppose one must just accept obsession as an unexplainable plot device in a movie, but Dominique got off to a very unsympathetic start. She'd wilt most men. Karol's obsession with her seemed a bit unreal. I found Karol developing into a resourceful, intelligent guy whom I began to admire. Dominique, though, didn't seem to change much. After all she put Karol through -- unnecessarily cruel most of the time -- I couldn't empathize much with Karol, but simply accepted things as the reason why I was enjoying the movie. I couldn't help thinking that if Karol had just had a few Viagra handy, none of his troubles would have begun. But then I thought about Dominique's essential characteristics, and I think that Karol would be better off with somebody new. I don't see a future for them.

One of the things I liked a lot about this movie is that it kept me guessing. Was it going to be a romantic comedy, or a black comedy or some kind of excruciatingly dull exploration of sexual inadequacy? Was Karol really just a sad loser when he seemed sort of resourceful in a sad, funny way? What was he trying to do with his property purchase? Where did Dominque fit in or was this just a cameo with Delpy? Was something sad going to happen after I'd figured out it seemed to be a combination black/romantic comedy? I like a movie that I can't quite see the end to.

People have said that this movie is the equality part of the trio. I saw this movie as a clever, bittersweet struggle for dominance, not equality, and laced with a little revenge. I thought it was a sweet, bittersweet, clever movie.

Krzysztof Kieslowski's second entry in his "Three Colors" trilogy is filled with less dread than its predecessor "Blue," but that is not to say that "White" is a totally whimsical film. "White" is actually a revenge-tale that has an underlying mean streak in addition to its more comical elements. It is a film that revels in the idea that a man scorned can be just as dangerous as a woman scorned.

"White" traces the journey of Karol (Zbigniew Zamachowski), a hairdresser from Poland. Karol is a simple man who has become despondent over his upcoming divorce in France. Unable to reconcile with his former wife, Dominique (Julie Delpy), Karol returns home curled up in a suitcase and sets into motion a series of events that culminates with him becoming a successful businessman. He uses his newfound wealth and power to reignite Dominique's interest in him, but when she arrives in Poland, Karol exacts his revenge when she unwittingly falls into his trap.

Zamachowski's performance in "White" is a treasure. His Karol is a lovable character whose darkness comes as a bit of a shock when it emerges because of the disarming effect of his more charming side. Yet, this does not mean Karol is sinister. Calling him complicated would be more accurate as the film makes clear that he has mixed feelings over his actions. While he wants to get even with Dominique, he is still deeply in love with her as she continuously fills his thoughts long after they are separated. Such a complicated characterization is a welcome sight amongst the one-dimensional stock figures that inhabit many current films. "White" doesn't have the dramatic impact of "Blue" but is still a worthy continuation of the "Three Colors" trilogy. If anything, it will make you realize that not all people that project a jovial exterior are truly completely jovial inside.

I'm usually not too much into foreign films. I decided to watch this one since one of my favorite actresses, Julie Delpy (who enraptured me in "Before Sunrise") was in it. I must admit, the first time I watched this movie, I was like "what the hell...?" However, the more I thought about what I saw, the more I understood. A lot of this movie is very subtle. I've seen reviews claiming it's a dark comedy, but I don't see what's funny about this film (I didn't laugh a single time). But that's not the point; even without understanding the humor, I could see the raw emotion that drives this movie. I've heard a lot of people rave about the final scene in this movie, and they should. It's the GREATEST, most heart-wrenching, emotional, poignant scene in the HISTORY of motion picture! I had to rewind the tape because I didn't understand Delpy's "sign language" the first time. However, once I did, it just touched me in a way no that other movie scene ever has. To people who will watch this movie for the first time; watch the last scene with all your attention! You'll be richly rewarded! One last thing; WARNING, this is not a happy movie. Don't be fooled by critics claiming it's a "comedy". It's an incredibly sad and poignant movie.