A blurred image of a car driving along a country road first, hardly perceived by the young passer-by. And after a few seconds the CRASH, awful, appalling, ineluctable. The half-conscious eye becomes prematurely aware of the death announcement. Almost before the woman realizes it, things have gone too far and it's impossible for her to back out from living damnation. So from an hospital bed of suffering a scream of anguish arises suddenly, seen as a peremptory withdrawal into an existence of immeasurable self solitude, as a controversial evidence of a disillusioned and insignificant future.
There it is, the cathartic route to desolation row of a woman voluntarily immersed into voids of memory and determined to erase the past from her mind, doomed to cancel the loss of her family as a free self-imposition thank to the complete repudiation of every sentiments, as if her fate weren't discouraging enough.
Julie's route is intended as a cry for freedom. As a release from musical reminiscences thrown into the dust-bin, from the possession of material things whose recollection can stop the healing of open wounds, from love involvements in the enclosed space of some anonymous, empty rooms. Julie's freedom is very heavy, it makes her perceive its oppressing presence every moments of her life, but on the other hand it helps her to empty her mind of every sad recollections of her past. But the line between pain and oblivion is very thin, and sometimes she doesn't even realize she's crossing it.
Juliette Binoche puts her heart and brain (more the last one than the first one) into acting the disconsolate widow. Her performance is personally inspired by Annie Dupré's book "The black angel", based on the death of the writer's parents in a car crash. Her character is damned to perpetual interior torment, into the BLUE, deprived of the faculty of emerging cathartically to light, necessary intermediate stage to reach a new existential balance.
And we can find the BLUE everywhere. BLUE like the reflections of the swimming pool, faithful companion in solitude, relaxing amniotic liquid whose embrace is so welcoming! BLUE like the color of her empty room, once beaming with joy. BLUE like the chandelier, brought with her as the only memory of happy days gone by. BLUE like the notes of the scale that run after each other on the musical pentagram playing a growing hymn to love. But mainly BLUE as symbol of the cold void of the soul fallen on her back, temporarily deaf to the bells of life resounding around it.
There it is, the cathartic route to desolation row of a woman voluntarily immersed into voids of memory and determined to erase the past from her mind, doomed to cancel the loss of her family as a free self-imposition thank to the complete repudiation of every sentiments, as if her fate weren't discouraging enough.
Julie's route is intended as a cry for freedom. As a release from musical reminiscences thrown into the dust-bin, from the possession of material things whose recollection can stop the healing of open wounds, from love involvements in the enclosed space of some anonymous, empty rooms. Julie's freedom is very heavy, it makes her perceive its oppressing presence every moments of her life, but on the other hand it helps her to empty her mind of every sad recollections of her past. But the line between pain and oblivion is very thin, and sometimes she doesn't even realize she's crossing it.
Juliette Binoche puts her heart and brain (more the last one than the first one) into acting the disconsolate widow. Her performance is personally inspired by Annie Dupré's book "The black angel", based on the death of the writer's parents in a car crash. Her character is damned to perpetual interior torment, into the BLUE, deprived of the faculty of emerging cathartically to light, necessary intermediate stage to reach a new existential balance.
And we can find the BLUE everywhere. BLUE like the reflections of the swimming pool, faithful companion in solitude, relaxing amniotic liquid whose embrace is so welcoming! BLUE like the color of her empty room, once beaming with joy. BLUE like the chandelier, brought with her as the only memory of happy days gone by. BLUE like the notes of the scale that run after each other on the musical pentagram playing a growing hymn to love. But mainly BLUE as symbol of the cold void of the soul fallen on her back, temporarily deaf to the bells of life resounding around it.