Jan 10, 11, 12, 15, 17, 18, 22, 24, 25, 26
The sensation of the Cannes Film Festival and the most controversial film of the year, Blue is the Warmest Color made cinema history as the first film ever awarded the Palme d’Or to both its director and its actresses. In a star-making role, Adele Exarchopoulos stars as Adele, a passionate high school student who has a yearning she doesn’t quite understand until a chance encounter with the blue-haired Emma ignites a flame and brings her to life. Lea Seydoux (Midnight in Paris) gives a fearless performance as Emma, the older, more experienced art student who excites Adele’s desire and becomes the love of her life. Abdellatif Kechiche’s (The Secret of the Grain) intimate epic of tenderness and passion charts their relationship over the course of several years, from the ecstasy of a first kiss to the agony of heartbreak. Pulsing with gestures, embraces, furtive exchanges, and arias of joy and devastation, Blue is the Warmest Color is a profoundly moving hymn to both love and life. (3 hrs; NC-17)
Washington Post: Hours, even days later, they may find themselves thinking of Adele and wondering how she’s doing — only then realizing how completely this fictional but very real creation has winnowed her way into their hearts and minds. That’s great acting. It’s great art. And that’s why Blue Is the Warmest Color is a great movie. Salon.com: It’s perhaps the first great love story of the 21st century that could belong only to this century.
Los Angeles Times: The telling is beautiful and explicit. The truth of its emotionally raw, romantic drama is eternal and universal.
The New York Times: Mr. Kechiche’s style is dizzy, obsessive, inspired and relentless, words that also describe Adele and Emma and the fearless women who embody them. Many more words can — and will — be spent on “Blue Is the Warmest Color,” but for now I’ll settle for just one: GLORIOUS.
Village Voice: Kechiche and his actresses explore the in-between—ecstasy, exploration, the comfort and eventual boredom of domesticity—and the aftermath, the painful shards of feeling we cling to after something has shattered. And they don’t mess around when it comes to the ferocity of love, sex, or, God help us, the two combined.