Film Review of Abdellatif Kechiche’s Blue Is the Warmest Color

There’s stillness in being true to oneself. To hold on to an identity, rough around the edges, but always ensconced in a shifting state. Like the different forms of water: solid for courage, liquid for metamorphosis, and vapor for life. Consider Blue Is the Warmest Color an ode to the senses.

It’s about love, being in love, finding and losing the entity that is your “self” in the act of loving. The film is honest, poetic, and soul-searching. The film creates its own rhythm on which it oscillates between the continuous flowing of time and the vulnerability of feeling. What you see, as a result, is a language so intense, sensual, and transitory. You don’t want to let go.

The film is brimming with symbolic sorcery. The oysters, rapturous intimacy, insecure friendships, domesticity, appetite for food, one’s occupation. Each reveals in it a language that couldn’t have been told or understood better in words. The film contains within it a vulnerable, soothing quality. Its narration feels real and otherworldly. And yet, what you see is ripe with the many definitions of love. Revealing to our kindred souls, the faces of a self so nonphysical and infinite that to define them is as naive as to define the color of air.