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Rating: Les Enfants du paradis, France, 1945, 190’
by Marcel Carné, starring Arletty, Jean-Louis Barrault, Pierre Brasseur
In a theatrical company of 19th century Paris, the beautiful Garance is courted by four admirers, including a sweet and shy mime. The pinnacle of the collaboration between Carné and Prévert and all of poetic realism, this poignant fresco remains a reference point for generations of film enthusiasts.
And that would be enough, because to review this film I find no words but I must try.
The young people of paradise at the theater pay 30 cents, not 1.5 francs; after all, they are in the gallery, crowded together, packed in and yelling, screaming, laughing, participating.
We are in Paris, around 1830. The pantomime was born. Baptiste is a young mime in a troupe of acrobats.
One day he is in the square with his father putting on a show. He spots Garance among the crowd. Next to her, a wealthy fat man. A thief passes by and steals the fat man's pocket watch. The fat man accuses Garance, the police arrive, a scuffle breaks out, but the mime has seen it all and will reenact the incident by miming the event in minute detail.
There you go.
This scene… just this scene. @Luludia where are you? Do you want to be enchanted by magic? Please have a seat.
I would like to talk only about this scene, which is also quite long. But, really, you cannot review a mime. Just know that the hair on my arms stood up so much they attempted to lift my body, they wanted to fly with me but gravity, once again, proved stronger…
Heaps of poetry, tons of magic, the Amazon of happiness. This is what I felt during this scene; I was like dazed, in ecstasy, astonished.
In the end, Garance throws a flower to Baptiste and blows him a kiss. Baptiste falls hopelessly and forever in love with Garance.
The mime is Jean-Louis Barrault. The director is Marcel Carné. The screenwriter is Jacques Prévert.
The genesis of a masterpiece. (***)
The story of “Les enfants du paradis” is a complicated one, troubled if ever there was one. One day, in 1943, during the Nazi occupation in France, three of the greatest French artists of the era, director Carné, poet Prévert, and actor Barrault, met in Nice, on the Promenade des Anglais. They did not discuss the war, nor the disastrous situation their country was experiencing, but they talked about theater, art, actors, and mimes. Carné recounts that Jean-Louis Barrault was a real well of anecdotes when it came to theater. One story, in particular, piqued the interest of Carné and Prévert, who at that time were in a frantic search for a subject for their next film, a subject they seemed unable to find.
Barrault told them a curious story. It was an anecdote about the mime Debureau, who reached the height of his fame in 1830s Paris. Well, one day, Debureau was walking with a beautiful girl along the “Boulevard du Crime” until the two lovers were disturbed by a drunk who began to heavily insult the girl. Debureau first tried to shove him away, but then, confronted with the drunkard's harassment, he ended up hitting him on the head. So forcefully that the man died on the spot. The original part of the story is that all of Paris rushed to the trial, to finally hear the mime speak.
Thus a masterpiece is born. A chance encounter, a conversation between artists, a bizarre story from a hundred years ago, told to avoid thinking about the present disaster.
What else can be said? It is a genuine blockbuster. 190 minutes. Thousands of extras, in the theater and on the streets during the carnival scene. At the time, it was defined as the greatest French “sound” film, but for what it's worth, it could also be the greatest “silent” film since the mime sequences are rightly among the most beautiful in cinema history, believe me.
And the actors? Where do I start? With the mime? The mime is a great artist, a genius. Do we want to know about the other three suitors of Garance? Who is Garance?
Garance is a woman of mystery or maybe not. She is certainly an emancipated woman. She lives day by day, loves life, loves love, falls in love every day, is serene, yet not happy.
She is accompanied by Pierre Francois Lacenaire, a formidable rogue dressed in black. Black are his curly hair, black is his mustache, black is his soul, if he even has one. It seems so, but it won't be.
Then we have the amazing Frédérick Lemaitre. He wants to be an actor at any cost, moreover, he wants his name to tower in big letters on the theater's billboard, and he will succeed. Frédérick is a would-be Don Juan, a Casanova, light as a feather, always cheerful, disillusioned, emancipated, modern, all too much for the times, but he too will be gnawed by the worm of jealousy.
Finally, we have the arrogant Count of Montray who, with his power and money, will take Garance away with him, without ever truly having her, placing her in the classic golden cage.
Then there's the young actress Nathalie, always in love with Baptiste…
I won't talk about Baptiste; he doesn't want to, he doesn't like words: he speaks with his legs, answers with his hands, a glance, a shrug, two steps forward, one back, and hop, in paradise they've already understood...
And then? Then there's Jacques Prévert. His dialogues, his aphorisms, his poetry. I could quote something to give you an idea, but I need not render anything, I have taken. You too take, take and eat of it; this is his art…
Truly, one of the greatest films of all time. A resounding work of art. It lasted over 3 hours. It could have lasted over 3 days; I wouldn't have gotten up even to go to the bathroom.
Do the French have airs about themselves? Now I know why.
W LA FRANCE!
(***) for further insights:
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