It was the first of the trilogy to be released, and I think the strongest of the trilogy, as well as the most rewarding to see by itself.

Juliette Binoche is nothing short of a revelation here. Her performance is so emotionally naked and raw, it is almost hard to watch. Her study of a woman consumed with the loss of her husband and only child is devastating. Binoche is one of those actors that can convey more emotion in a look or an expression than most can with an epic monologue. In fact, what I took away from the film initially is how much was unleashed without really saying much of anything. She is perfect for this role, and it is arguably the best performance of her career thus far, and one in which she won a Cesar award for Best Actress.

The style of the film is totally unique. There are breathtaking moments of genius spread throughout the film. The camera is such a languid yet probing force in Blue, showing you things that are out of view and lending fascinating perspective to the characters. There is a shot I recall in a hospital, when the camera has a tight shot on an eye, only to reveal a doctor looking down to the patient. It is remarkable that these elements do not feel gimmicky at all. They simply become part of the language of the story. The cinematography is just gorgeous. The colors and the use of focus add tension and depth to the visual space, leaving some images behind that are both abstract and precise.

I remember feeling really out of touch when I left the theatre after seeing Blue. It is so cliche, but I really felt like I had been dreaming. The images that I recalled reminded me of the kinds you recall when you wake up from a dream. You have a series of images or situations, and are kind of left to extrapulate what they mean. This film is very similar. Even though the story has played itself out in a way that is easy to understand, there are so many elements that float to the surface that are puzzling, and leave traces of themselves behind. The ending is often explained by different people in many different ways, and this is one of the most marvelous things about the film. It leaves a lot to the imagination, which is a criminally underappreciated tactic in films today.

I was quite thrilled to hear the Trilogy was coming out on DVD, because it was impossible to find a copy of Blue in any format for quite some time. I had relied on an overused VHS of the film for years, and taped it once when it was playing on Bravo. The problem was that Bravo edits almost everything, so I was pretty sure I was missing parts of the movie.

If you have never seen this film, please allow yourself the opportunity. It is one of my all-time personal favorites, and probably one of the best films to survive the 1990's.

In BLUE, Julie (Juliette Binoche) mentally recuperates from the loss of her family in an auto accident, of which she was the only survivor. In WHITE, Karol (Zbigniew Zamachowski) emotionally recovers from a humiliating divorce and shabby treatment by his ex. In RED, Valentine (Irene Jacob) copes after injuring a dog with her car.

Though each film is a complete story in itself, BLUE and WHITE must be viewed before RED. At RED's conclusion, a most improbable happenstance brings together the major characters of all three films. The trilogy's lesson appears to be that life is a series of coincidences, and the potential for personal growth from any connection between one or more individuals is a mine of great richness if one cares to work it. Humans are reputed to be a social species. However, the set is perhaps best appreciated by a "people person", who relishes the interaction of daily encounters whether random or not. I'm not that sort (much to my wife's perpetual disgust), so my regard for the series is somewhat muted.

RED, WHITE and BLUE also make the point that there's commonality in the experiences of varied individuals. In each film, the major character observes an old person struggling to insert an empty bottle into the elevated aperture of a large, curbside container for recyclables. Only in RED does the protagonist (Valentine) give assistance. Perhaps the director had more in mind here, but it only indicated to me that Valentine was the more generous and less self-absorbed of the three, and, on a larger scale, that reaction to a set stimulus is not uniform among individuals.

I recognize the ability of the trilogy to inspire opinionated discussion, which, as long as it doesn't degenerate into name-calling and fisticuffs, is a swell thing, especially over pizza and beer. I liked the series for its visuals - it continually held my interest - but I'm not such a deep thinker as to regard it as the Greatest Cinematic Achievement Ever. Sometimes, I think, symbology can be overwrought to the point of detriment. And, as I'm beginning to sound pretentious, I'll stop here.