It goes beyond me how much of a genius Kiéslowski is, really. The movie started out a bit slow-paced but I was patient. Near towards the middle, I began noticing a great deal of attention that was given to detail by Krzysztof in regards to everyone but to the main character. She is the pawn, everything else breeds charm and eternity to the beauty and pain of how finite life is, along with its sorrows and triumphs.
Blue was a tragedy, White was a comedy, so it’s only fitting that Red would be a third great staple of dramatic presentation: Romance. It’s not a romance though in the traditional sense of the word, more a deeply romantic film, that culminates in an implied romance, and features romantic characters, but throughout no real romance it focuses on. It’s an entrancing investigation into fate, as is the trilogy.
A bizarre plot often gazing at its own navel makes Red a hard case to follow or even care about. Irene Jacobs is the plausible French model in unconvincing gear as compassionate lonesome Valentine. People traumatised for life after trivial mishaps often exasperate intelligence. The need to often shout at Jacobs and Trintignant urging them to stop sucking their own thumbs and getting a grip is difficult to supress.