Rewatched Jul 13, 2012
Mike D'Angelo’s review:
Doppelgänger aspect feels strangely undernourished—connections get made but they don't seem to mean much, except perhaps as political allegory (with Weronika/Véronique as Eastern/Western Europe). Véronique breaks down when she finally sees the picture she unknowingly took of Weronika; I remain unmoved, having been given no reason to perceive their mysterious co-existence as more than a plot device. Which is frustrating because there are so many glorious individual moments here, from Weronika holding her final note alone in the rain as the rest of the choir scurries for cover to Véronique watching the puppeteer via a reflection at the edge of the stage, her face as rapt as those of the children but looking in a different direction. Will I get pummeled if I say that their subsequent romance, with its treasure-hunt courtship, reminded me a bit of Amélie? (Not a criticism, sue me.) Much to treasure, but the ending in particular leaves me shrugging, in both the Harvey-ized version inflicted on Americans 20 years ago and the original one I finally saw now. Also puzzling: the sulfurous color scheme. Is it meant to be golden-hued? Colorblindness issue? I'm never sure about these things...