This is a perfect example of a situation where a film doesn't have to make sense to be a compelling and wonderful film experience. Mainly on the force of Irene Jacob's luminous performance as the two women, as well as Slawomir Idziak's lush photography, this rethinking of Ingmar Bergman's Persona subtly asks the viewer to rethink his or her ideas about identity without really making any grand statements in itself. The hands-off approach, allowing the viewer to figure things out for him or herself, works perfectly in this beautiful and mysterious film.

Veronique and Veronika were born on the same day in different countries. They are identical twins, they have much the same upbringing, and they seem somehow aware of the other's existence. Veronique is a professional singer, and Veronika is a talented amateur who, on a whim, tries out for an operetta and gets the part. If something bad happens to one of them, the other somehow realizes this and narrowly avoids the same fate. They come close to meeting only once, when Veronique is touring Poland near the end of Communist rule and Veronika is walking in a town square when the bus carrying Veronique drives by. Veronika sees her double in the bus and stands, transfixed, as the bus pulls away. Veronique does not see her, but manages to take a photograph that will figure prominently in the film's conclusion, of Veronika staring at the departing bus.

The notion of a doppelganger, a double, is an old one, and some legends have it that if one sees one's double, it is a signifier of impending death. This is the case in the film: both women have a history of heart trouble, and Veronika collapses and dies during her first performance. Veronique immediately knows something is wrong, missing, and instinctively quits singing forever the next day.

A strange romance occupies much of the rest of the film. Veronique is shadowed by a mysterious man who seems to know much about her. She receives cryptic phone calls, the haunting music that Veronika died singing playing in the background. Intrigued, she attempts to follow the clues and track down an enigmatic writer who seems to be the source of the messages.

I am a little mystified by the connection between the first third of the film, which concerned the connection between the two women, and the last part, which concerns the romance between Alexandre (Phillipe Volter) and Veronique. As I said, it doesn't entirely make sense on a logical level, but the film seduces you into accepting what seems like an impossible premise, to the point where there is an instinctive understanding that the two parts of the film belong together. Perhaps Alexandre is there because his writer's mind can accept the premise that these two women could be each other's double. Indeed, it is he who makes the first connection, intuitively piecing the story together.

The film is a nearly perfect blending of the emotional and the intellectual. It ranks with Kieslowski's best work, that being Blue and Red of his Trois Colours trilogy. He was a filmmaker of uncanny insight into human nature, and his films are godsends for lovers of cinema that doesn't figure everything out for the viewer, but trusts that the viewer is capable of drawing his or her own meanings.