La Vie En Cuisinart
reviews
La Vie En Rose Directed by: Olivier Dahan Written by: Olivier Dahan and Isabelle Sobelman
Starring: Marion Cotillard, Sylvie Testud, Pascal Greggory, Emmanuelle Seigner,
Gérard Depardieu, Pauline Burlet, Manon Chevalier and Marc Barbé
La Môme
Edith Piaf’s life story was certainly dramatic. In fact, in rough outline it already reads like a fancifully histrionic movie: Raised in a brothel, abandoned and nearly blinded as a child (!) the discovery of a young girl's once in a lifetime talent leads to international fame and fortune (!!) but her personal life remains a nightmare of emotional meltdowns and addictions. She died young, a victim of her own excesses but her legend lives on (!!!). Pass the popcorn. The language of the cinema is universal. And so too, apparently, is the language of the biopic.
La Vie En Rose is but the latest gorgeous and glossy member of an annual society of Oscar baiting musical biopics. Recent years have brought us Ray and Walk the Line, but this club’s membership stretches back for decades. The latest to debut comes from France but, really it could come from anywhere so familiar is the story it has to tell. Since the musical biopic is such a traditionalist genre the merits or lack thereof are always to be found in the details, the lead performance and in the overall storytelling decisions.Like most big name big budget musical bios its beautiful to look at and listen to. The costumes and cinematography are pretty. It goes without saying that the music is heaven: it’s Edith Piaf! There are memorable passages recreating historical events and as is true of most biopics worth their salt: exciting cameos of other famous actors or famous people. Movie buffs will enjoy the Marlene Dietrich cameo as well as a brief appearance from Gérard Depardieu who proves instrumental to Piaf's rise to fame.
Dahan assembled cast do fine work too, though they're often reduced to reactive props for the huge lead performance. Of particular note is Sylvie Testud as Piaf's longtime best friend Mômone. She's sidelined by the movie (and sadly by Piaf herself) but she refuses to leave center stage without a fight. You'll miss her.
Marion Cotillard will surely win raves for her central performance as Edith Piaf. An Oscar nomination might also be in the cards. It's an enormous melodramatic role --the kind that would be likely to win kudos regardless of actual execution. Cotillard is onscreen constantly and proves herself an enthusiastic mimic, huffing and puffing her way through a series of impressions of Edith Piaf at several different ages. Taken individually this impersonation is cute and periodically impressive and moving (particularly in the NYC section when Piaf is closer to Cotillard's own age and you can finally feel the actress relaxing a little) but as a whole it’s no great success. You can't connect the dots between these women. This teenager is this young star? is this old woman? "Edith Piaf" has no through line, no modulated character development: she's all big moments without connective performance tissue. To be fair to Cotillard, the film fights foolishly to keep her that way.
Cotillard's problems with emotional continuity in the title role are only acerbated by the head scratching decision to tell the story with a middle finger to chronology. Like 21 Grams, the scenes often play in random order. At one point there's a laugh inducing title card "five years later" implying that time, and your understanding of it, is actually important to the events depicted, despite all the previous jumping back and forth. Time and again this decision wreaks havoc on any emotional connection or dramatic punch that the material is generating. Two or three pivotal moments involving the discovery of Piaf's inimitable voice by small crowds and then larger influential ones drop with a thud. The music is still lovely but in Dahan's non linear telling there's no sense of discovery. You can't feel what the screen audience is feeling since you've already heard her sing several times. This is also true of what should be a devastating moment between Piaf and her best friend, the aforementioned Mômone. The way their breakup scene is written you should be feeling a complex mix of emotions: sadness that a friendship is being lost, anger at Piaf's egomania, doubt that the friendship wasn't already tinged with problems, sympathy that fame must distort even the tightest of emotional bonds. But, Testud's fury aside, it's something of a "so what?" moment. The movie has been jumping carelessly back and forth in time: these inseparable friends have never been inseparable.
By the time La Vie En Rose is well passed its two hour marks and is still adding plot elements from Piaf's adolescence, patience comes to an abrupt end. Deep within this films disastrously jumbled and repetitive narrative there might be a touching albeit overly familiar portrait of a famous and talented woman. But if you want to experience her true genius, you're much better off with a CD.
D
