Based on a graphic novel by the director (Joann Sfar), 'Gainsbourg' charts the tumultuous life of Lucien Ginsberg, the precocious son of Russian-born Jews (who settled in Paris at the time of Germany's occupation of France), who gained fame and notoriety for his music, muses and mercurialness.
Played with remarkable confidence by Kacey Mottet Klein, the young Ginsburg passes through school smoking and drawing lewd pictures of the female models he adores, and intellectually evading Nazi wrath (he pretends he is friends with Goebbles to avoid wearing the yellow star).
His skill as a lyricist and pianist is recognised and he is given his new persona: Serge Gainsbourg (Eric Elmosnino). His fame quickly skyrockets as does his appeal to famous ladies of the 1960s: Brigitte Bardot (a sultry Laetitia Casta), the bohemian Juliette Gréco (Anna Mouglalis, fresh from her role as Coco Chanel) and the English singer/actress, Jane Birkin (Lucy Gordon, who tragically committed suicide before the film's release).
At various points in the film Gainsbourg is joined by La Gueule ('The Mug'), his alter ego and everything he is not: daring, debonair, devil-may-care. Although I was intrigued by this peculiar, gangly figure, whose ears are emphasised and whose nose is ridiculously long and aquiline (a reference to Ginsberg's insecurity), the surrealism of this character seemed to detract from Elmosnino's performance and therefore quickly seemed bathetic.
This is Sfar's first stab as a director, so he was bound to make dubious judgements. The biggest one was casting Elmosnino as the lead. The part is too big for him. There's a very claustrophobic atmosphere and interiors are generally only partly shown, which is perhaps a reflection of Gainsbourg's insularity.
When I read about how influential Serge Gainsbourg was, how many genres he experimented with and what inspired him to pen and feature in the famously lascivious song, 'Je t'aime moi non plus' ('I love you... me neither'), I thought I was in for a real treat. Watch this film and you may come away thinking the man was nothing but a self-effacing, odd- looking, quasi-talented musician who was prone to unexpected blubbering and who was liked, bizarrely, for those qualities which he himself was insecure about.
www.scottishreview.net
Played with remarkable confidence by Kacey Mottet Klein, the young Ginsburg passes through school smoking and drawing lewd pictures of the female models he adores, and intellectually evading Nazi wrath (he pretends he is friends with Goebbles to avoid wearing the yellow star).
His skill as a lyricist and pianist is recognised and he is given his new persona: Serge Gainsbourg (Eric Elmosnino). His fame quickly skyrockets as does his appeal to famous ladies of the 1960s: Brigitte Bardot (a sultry Laetitia Casta), the bohemian Juliette Gréco (Anna Mouglalis, fresh from her role as Coco Chanel) and the English singer/actress, Jane Birkin (Lucy Gordon, who tragically committed suicide before the film's release).
At various points in the film Gainsbourg is joined by La Gueule ('The Mug'), his alter ego and everything he is not: daring, debonair, devil-may-care. Although I was intrigued by this peculiar, gangly figure, whose ears are emphasised and whose nose is ridiculously long and aquiline (a reference to Ginsberg's insecurity), the surrealism of this character seemed to detract from Elmosnino's performance and therefore quickly seemed bathetic.
This is Sfar's first stab as a director, so he was bound to make dubious judgements. The biggest one was casting Elmosnino as the lead. The part is too big for him. There's a very claustrophobic atmosphere and interiors are generally only partly shown, which is perhaps a reflection of Gainsbourg's insularity.
When I read about how influential Serge Gainsbourg was, how many genres he experimented with and what inspired him to pen and feature in the famously lascivious song, 'Je t'aime moi non plus' ('I love you... me neither'), I thought I was in for a real treat. Watch this film and you may come away thinking the man was nothing but a self-effacing, odd- looking, quasi-talented musician who was prone to unexpected blubbering and who was liked, bizarrely, for those qualities which he himself was insecure about.
www.scottishreview.net