By Jacques Demy, 1964.
Starring Nino Castelnuovo, Catherine Deneuve, Ellen Farner, Marc Michel, Mireille Perrey, Anne Vernon.
Rating: 9/10, 8.5/10.
Anyone who reads these reviews regularly (I know you’re out there) knows that, to me, if a movie looks good, it is good. You know I like bright colors. You know I like the French and their movies. You’ve probably gathered that I like movies that are almost, but not quite, within a genre, and that one genre I especially like to be tinkered with is the musical.
Need I say more? The Umbrellas of Cherbourg is a great-looking, brightly colored, French not-quite-ordinary musical. Kazam, I love it.
Guy (the very pretty Castelnuovo), who works at a gas station and dreams of one day owning one of his own, and Geneviève (the very pretty Deneuve), who works at an umbrella store belonging to her controlling mother (Vernon) are madly in love, as only the French can be. Her mother opposes the idea of marriage between Guy and Geneviève, because Guy is poor, and the family business is failing; she wants Geneviève to marry Roland Cassard (Michel), a wealthy businessman, instead. Guy has to leave for the war; soon afterwards, Geneviève discovers that she is pregnant with Guy’s child. Eventually, his lack of communication causes her to think that he has forgotten her, and she marries Roland. When Guy returns, he falls into a depression, both because of Geneviève’s marriage and because of the death of his beloved Aunt Elise (Perrey). In an attempt to overcome this depression, he marries his aunt’s nurse, Madeleine (Farner).
What you don’t get from that plot summary is that every line of this movie, every single last one, is sung. Every time the characters open their mouths, they sing. At first it seems silly, but then it kind of somehow becomes unnoticeable and heavenly at the same time. I don’t know how that’s possible, but it’s true: after a while you stop noticing that they’re singing, but it’s still unbelievably wonderful that they are. So really, it’s not exactly a musical; it’s more like an opera. Demy called it (I think, I can’t find the quote anymore) "un film en chanté," which means a movie in song, and is also a pun on the word enchanté, a very appropriate pun indeed.
The singing is only half of the pure pleasure aspect of the film. The other half is the look of it. Bright, bright, bright colors everywhere, especially reds and greens (not in a Christmasy way, mind you) and pinks. By the way, make sure you see the restored version, not the one that was released on video in the 80s. To be certain of this, it’s best to get the DVD; I’m not sure if the restored print exists on video. This is very important. The non-restored version is faded away, not even half as beautiful as the restored print, the way it was originally. And this isn’t a minor problem. Watching the movie on the faded print is watching an entirely different movie, a pretty good movie. Watching the restored print is watching one of the greatest movies of all time. It goes beyond the color, somehow. This movie is largely about the emotional impact, and the look of it is an integral part. The picture above, beautiful as it is, is only a fraction of the true beauty of the film.