There is no doubt that French cinema includes many of the world's finest, most influential and iconic films. From fantasy to neo-realism, historical epic to kitchen sink drama, and with arguably the most important cinematic New Wave to add to its canon, French masterpieces can be found in almost every genre imaginable; indeed, in many cases, they have helped to distinguish between them.
'Les Enfants du Paradis' is considered the finest product of the partnership between director Marcel Carné and writer Jacques Prévert. At over three hours, and split into two parts, the film follows a handful of colourful characters through the 1820s and 30s in that fascinating, mystical city: Paris. The focus is on the Parisian theatre – a place of hypocrisy, deception, exaggerated emotion, corrosive artificiality, cheap tricks and crude laughs. With an astonishing attention to detail, and displaying a perfect mastery of his medium, Carné exposes with scorching wit the superficiality of society and the damaging effect it has had on his characters. There is a fine line between fantasy and reality, and the characters, sometimes without even knowing it, deceive themselves and the others around them. In a film with so many grand themes, its tragedy lies in its profound exploration of love, and what happens when genuine emotion attempts to shine through in a world of romantic, sentimental lies, cruel falsehoods, deluded pride and vicious crime.
Much of the brilliance of this film I cannot divulge in my review. I admit, that aside from its considerable critical acclaim, I knew nothing about it when I bought my ticket. That is the way it should be seen: let its delicious melodrama, breathtaking sets, classy cinematography, dry comedy and poignant tragedy wash over you. Long it may be, but the time flies by; very rarely have I been taken on as deep and enjoyable a ride as this one – and how refreshing that is, considering that those two adjectives seldom gel when talking about cinema. Even more impressive is that with so many characters, story lines and themes at play, the movie never once feels rushed or convoluted: its pacing is pitch perfect, and its artistic vision - impeccable; the denouement is abrupt and delivers a memorable emotional punch to the gut.
This is a timeless film for all tastes: those who like a great plot, a compelling love story, lavish costumes, profound thematic material, passion and grand emotion, an insight into a different culture or a different time and place – this has everything, encompassing all of life – from the most pitifully poor to the most disgustingly rich. I personally cannot wait to see it again, and the newly restored version released recently by the BFI is definitely the way to go if you have the intention of watching it – the print, much like the film, is a joy to behold, almost doing full justice to the amazing cinematography (courtesy of Marc Fossard and Roger Hubert) and the delightful technical and stylistic flourishes found within it.
I am not exaggerating when I say that this may well be one of the finest films ever made. It could be studied and analysed until the cows come home, but as is often the case for many truly great films, there is nothing quite like seeing it for the first time and just enjoying it for what it is, not feeling the need to try and analyse because you have complete confidence in the filmmaker and are utterly captivated by the story he is telling you. It was made over sixty years ago now, but it could have been released yesterday for the first time. It feels as fresh and exciting as ever - and that, for me, is the sign of a film to cherish!
'Les Enfants du Paradis' is considered the finest product of the partnership between director Marcel Carné and writer Jacques Prévert. At over three hours, and split into two parts, the film follows a handful of colourful characters through the 1820s and 30s in that fascinating, mystical city: Paris. The focus is on the Parisian theatre – a place of hypocrisy, deception, exaggerated emotion, corrosive artificiality, cheap tricks and crude laughs. With an astonishing attention to detail, and displaying a perfect mastery of his medium, Carné exposes with scorching wit the superficiality of society and the damaging effect it has had on his characters. There is a fine line between fantasy and reality, and the characters, sometimes without even knowing it, deceive themselves and the others around them. In a film with so many grand themes, its tragedy lies in its profound exploration of love, and what happens when genuine emotion attempts to shine through in a world of romantic, sentimental lies, cruel falsehoods, deluded pride and vicious crime.
Much of the brilliance of this film I cannot divulge in my review. I admit, that aside from its considerable critical acclaim, I knew nothing about it when I bought my ticket. That is the way it should be seen: let its delicious melodrama, breathtaking sets, classy cinematography, dry comedy and poignant tragedy wash over you. Long it may be, but the time flies by; very rarely have I been taken on as deep and enjoyable a ride as this one – and how refreshing that is, considering that those two adjectives seldom gel when talking about cinema. Even more impressive is that with so many characters, story lines and themes at play, the movie never once feels rushed or convoluted: its pacing is pitch perfect, and its artistic vision - impeccable; the denouement is abrupt and delivers a memorable emotional punch to the gut.
This is a timeless film for all tastes: those who like a great plot, a compelling love story, lavish costumes, profound thematic material, passion and grand emotion, an insight into a different culture or a different time and place – this has everything, encompassing all of life – from the most pitifully poor to the most disgustingly rich. I personally cannot wait to see it again, and the newly restored version released recently by the BFI is definitely the way to go if you have the intention of watching it – the print, much like the film, is a joy to behold, almost doing full justice to the amazing cinematography (courtesy of Marc Fossard and Roger Hubert) and the delightful technical and stylistic flourishes found within it.
I am not exaggerating when I say that this may well be one of the finest films ever made. It could be studied and analysed until the cows come home, but as is often the case for many truly great films, there is nothing quite like seeing it for the first time and just enjoying it for what it is, not feeling the need to try and analyse because you have complete confidence in the filmmaker and are utterly captivated by the story he is telling you. It was made over sixty years ago now, but it could have been released yesterday for the first time. It feels as fresh and exciting as ever - and that, for me, is the sign of a film to cherish!