Weekly Review -- The soul's melancholy quest

Blue is the Warmest Color (2013) -- The intersecting journey of identity and desire is rarely explored in cinema through the lens of abandon. Abdellatif Kechiche's Blue is the Warmest Color, based on Julie Maroh's graphic novel, takes a stand on self-discovery while meditating on the significance of sexuality and the Other in contemporary society. Not without its problems, the film still succeeds in presenting the idea of soulmates through a story about first love.  

**THIS REVIEW CONTAINS HUGE SPOILERS**

Adèle (Adèle Exarchopoulos) is confused in the framework of her own life. She has her future mapped out, she is a good student and has a circle of friends and a boyfriend... but something is missing. She wants to yearn, she wants to love from the inside out, she wants to feel that magical something when you just KNOW. One day, Adèle passes by a blue-haired woman on the street and is overwhelmed by instant attraction. Later on, she meets the woman (Léa Seydoux) at a gay bar, finding out that her name is Emma and that she is an art student. It does not take long for their friendship to turn into a deep relationship, but life pushes and pulls Adèle in different directions... 

One of the best aspects is the connection between the lead actors. The chemistry between Exarchopoulos and Seydoux builds gradually and steadily, almost becoming a character unto itself. We can understand how Adèle feels. We can see her routine, one that has come dangerously close to a monotonous spin cycle. She is empty and stifled, going about her life in perfect circles. Emma brings color into her existence in various ways, opening up Adèle's world as well as opening Adèle up to the world. Their relationship feels honest and lived-in, with the first sexual encounter flooding the viewer like an explosion of the senses. Kudos to the two actors for delving into their humanity and sensuality in order to bring forth two memorable and soulful portrayals. 

A unique part of the narrative is Adèle's complex life of fantasies and self-pleasure, which adds another dimension to the story. The evolution of female sexual identity has never been a popular topic in cinema, with these themes being tackled in very few films, such as High Art and Black Swan. The fact that Kechiche's entire film focuses on one female character's perspective and follows her exclusively, creating the feel of biography through camerawork, makes the work and the chronological approach taken all the more timely and important. 

As for the much-discussed sex scenes, I thought that they were sincere and spontaneous without being unnecessarily titillating, a quality that could easily have snuck into the sequences. Above all, I love the improvisation flavor. These scenes do not feel staged or choreographed. They are rich, messy, flailing displays of longing, showing the product of a finally consummated fire. The actors' bodies are not only used to act out the written word. They are tools for a complete emotional catharsis, for Adèle to express herself physically and literally let her hair down and for Emma to show love to her partner in the most intimate way imaginable. Sex is not merely a physical act here. It is giving and taking, rough and gentle, art without genre. It is an act of elevated beauty, a sign of absolute surrender and a stepping stone to defiance. 

Another interesting element is the attention that the film pays to the principal characters' hair. Apart from Emma's blue hair being representative of uncompromising individuality, we also have Adèle's perpetually disheveled mane, possibly reflecting inner chaos. During the course of the film, Adèle's hair gets more and more unruly, while Emma's goes from wild and colorful to short and orderly. Since hair is often viewed as a status symbol and a symbol of well-being in our society, these developments force us to see this visual representation on a metaphorical level. Is Emma the one who has truly found herself through this relationship? At the end, we get the sense that Emma is now more composed and more spiritually present, while Adèle is still shattered after their breakup and leaves Emma's exhibition without saying goodbye to anyone. It feels as though she is giving up, descending into her own untidiness, descending into madness.   

Now on to the not-so-impressive aspects. For all of the chemistry between the leads and for all of the passion that builds up, I found the film surprisingly lacking in genuine emotion. How is it possible that Adèle is not evolving as a person? This is probably where her implausible tryst with a colleague comes in. I can see how Adèle might be questioning her sexuality again, considering that she had started her relationship with Emma when she was just a teenager and has never questioned her love until this point. The problem is, the screenplay is unable to properly reconcile Adèle's feelings for Emma with Adèle's uncertainty about herself. The whole affair storyline fades away, as does the intriguing storyline dealing with each of the women's parents. Could Adèle's conservative parents have found out about her and Emma and disowned her? This turn might explain Adèle's inability or unwillingness to move forward, but we never get any sort of clarity on the context and keep watching the central relationship unfold within a bubble. This lack ties in with the ambiguous and distant ending that left me cold, as much as I would have disliked conventional closure.

I also found it unrealistic that Adèle's friends would be so unsympathetic and that they would bully her and Emma, particularly since one of Adèle's best friends was also gay. We are talking about 21st century France, where civil unions between same-sex couples have been voted into power in 1999, where national legislation was enacted in 1985 to prohibit sexual orientation based discrimination and where same-sex marriage has been legal since May 2013. Sure, bigots exist in every group of peers, but the general attitude of the younger generation depicted here leaves much to be desired and had struck me as exaggerated.  

Blue is the Warmest Color is a cinematic paradox. Its powerful notion of individuality is only matched by the passion between the principal characters, but its notion of freedom gets lost in the often clinical writing. I wish that the screenplay had dug deeper into what made these two fascinating women tick and how their love for one another propelled each one of them on their distinct journeys. Instead, the film suffers from a serious case of arrested development, hoping to give its characters wings, but keeping them permanently grounded.

8/10