Jacques Demy's "The Umbrellas of Cherbourg", Golden Palm winner of 1964, is a deliberately simple and straight-forward story sublimated by the music, I guess that's a way to put it simply.
Still, I was never in a rush to watch this film, forgive my bias but the premise of one hour and half of all-singing made me expect some syrupy nothing-specialness à la "New Wave" sauce that I couldn't take seriously. I thought I would endure the film more than experience it. And to be fair, it's hard to get used to the all singing 'gimmick' (for lack of a better word) at first and the opening make you wonder if it's not unconsciously intended as a sort of spoof but the film finds a way to set its tone, making the singing a sort of natural background, allowing you to focus more on the story.
First, there are the first notes of Michel Legrand's penetrative score (the "I Will Wait For You" theme) that started to resonate during the opening credits. I knew I heard that tune before and then it hit me, "Jurassic Bark", poor Seymour waiting for Fry... "I Will Wait For You", one of the saddest melodies ever, that was meant to be used for the saddest TV moment ever. Now, knowing that it came from Michel Legrand and that it would be the defining theme of the film made me realize that in terms of emotions, "The Umbrellas of Cherbourg" 'meant business', and within the right context and served by the right lyrics, the score reached unsuspected levels of poignancy.
Secondly, when the film starts in a jazzy upbeat mood, there's an exchange between Guy, the mechanic played by Nino Castelnuovo and his friend about their plans for Friday night. The friend says he doesn't like operas, all the singing gets on his nerves, he prefers movies. What can you say after that? Such a line so early in the film can't be innocent, this is Jacques Demy's anticipating the natural resistance of some viewers, toward what can be perceived as a gimmick. Demy basically tells us that even movies can work like operas and that maybe this film can help us to consider singing as a language as adequate to film-making as facial expressions in a silent movie.
In fact, it's not exactly singing buy lip-syncing with other professional singer's voices (which is a wise choice because I can't imagine these melodies with amateur singers) but progressively, the musicality becomes such a natural aspect of the movie that any line said without any melodic intonation surprisingly rings false. The music becomes part of the background, and in total osmosis with the art-direction, the costumes, the photography. If you pay attention to the way some women's dresses always fit the patterns or colors behind, you're tempted to interpret that as a foreshadowing of their chameleonic nature, their superhuman capability to adapt to any situation or predicament in their lives.
The visual delights also lay on the depiction of Cherbourg which, depending on the season, the weather or the general mood, can be either cheerful or depressing. One day, the two lovers dance a mambo behind the red walls of a nightclub, it's red, passionate, lively, and the day after, they're in a depressing and neutrally grey train station saying goodbye to each other. Even a cute and cozy little umbrella shop can become a cold and depressing washing-machines' stores. The film is as competent in conveying emotions through visual than musical delights, but the raw core is still the romance between Guy and Geneviève played by a beautiful and young Catherine Deneuve, without it, this would have been one of these 'all flash and no substance' film. (Spoilers in Next Paragraph)
The story isn't a revolution, two young enamored people make plans for the future then comes the call of duty, they have one last night together, promise to wait for each other ignoring that the "harm is done" already and then there's the absence, the separation, and throughout her pregnancy, Geneviève is courted by a providential rich man named Roland Cassard (Marc Michel) which she finally marries, so her baby can have a father. When he's back, Guy is wounded physically before being hurt emotionally, he sinks in bitterness and alcohol before being rescued by his friend Madeleine, they marry and have a child. Finally, a few years after, the former lovers meet in an Esso station and the film concludes with the right notes of realism, foreshadowed by Genevieve's mother (Anne Vernon) who said that times fix everything and only in movies, people die from love.
If I wasn't so emotionally overwhelmed by that ending and how daring it was to contradict the then-romantic tropes, I would have kept thinking of a certain movie that almost won Best Picture last year. I just wish I saw Demy's "Umbrellas" before Damien Chazelle's "La La Land". Now I know where he got the inspiration, it's all to his credit to revive the magic of this classic for a contemporary tale, but now I see the ending less as a masterstroke of originality than a well made homage to Jacques Demy. The last time I had a similar regret is when I discovered Fellini after Kusturica's "Undeground", another Golden Palm winner.
So, what I loved about "The Umbrellas of Cherboug" is how misleading it actually is, these jazzy musical interludes, the playful way characters recite their lines by singing, you wouldn't believe this film would be so dark and so realistically bold, dealing with pregnancy, financial problems, not much war traumas than the disillusion of homecoming soldiers and of course, broken hearts. It's like a strawberry-flavor candy with a lemon bittersweet taste in the end. The film is well-made, well-edited, and well-written. Of course, the singing can get on people's heads but hey, the film is one hour and twenty something minutes long, it's not too much patience demanding.
And the final minutes will reward your patience anyway, listening to it, I know why Michel's name is Legrand.
Still, I was never in a rush to watch this film, forgive my bias but the premise of one hour and half of all-singing made me expect some syrupy nothing-specialness à la "New Wave" sauce that I couldn't take seriously. I thought I would endure the film more than experience it. And to be fair, it's hard to get used to the all singing 'gimmick' (for lack of a better word) at first and the opening make you wonder if it's not unconsciously intended as a sort of spoof but the film finds a way to set its tone, making the singing a sort of natural background, allowing you to focus more on the story.
First, there are the first notes of Michel Legrand's penetrative score (the "I Will Wait For You" theme) that started to resonate during the opening credits. I knew I heard that tune before and then it hit me, "Jurassic Bark", poor Seymour waiting for Fry... "I Will Wait For You", one of the saddest melodies ever, that was meant to be used for the saddest TV moment ever. Now, knowing that it came from Michel Legrand and that it would be the defining theme of the film made me realize that in terms of emotions, "The Umbrellas of Cherbourg" 'meant business', and within the right context and served by the right lyrics, the score reached unsuspected levels of poignancy.
Secondly, when the film starts in a jazzy upbeat mood, there's an exchange between Guy, the mechanic played by Nino Castelnuovo and his friend about their plans for Friday night. The friend says he doesn't like operas, all the singing gets on his nerves, he prefers movies. What can you say after that? Such a line so early in the film can't be innocent, this is Jacques Demy's anticipating the natural resistance of some viewers, toward what can be perceived as a gimmick. Demy basically tells us that even movies can work like operas and that maybe this film can help us to consider singing as a language as adequate to film-making as facial expressions in a silent movie.
In fact, it's not exactly singing buy lip-syncing with other professional singer's voices (which is a wise choice because I can't imagine these melodies with amateur singers) but progressively, the musicality becomes such a natural aspect of the movie that any line said without any melodic intonation surprisingly rings false. The music becomes part of the background, and in total osmosis with the art-direction, the costumes, the photography. If you pay attention to the way some women's dresses always fit the patterns or colors behind, you're tempted to interpret that as a foreshadowing of their chameleonic nature, their superhuman capability to adapt to any situation or predicament in their lives.
The visual delights also lay on the depiction of Cherbourg which, depending on the season, the weather or the general mood, can be either cheerful or depressing. One day, the two lovers dance a mambo behind the red walls of a nightclub, it's red, passionate, lively, and the day after, they're in a depressing and neutrally grey train station saying goodbye to each other. Even a cute and cozy little umbrella shop can become a cold and depressing washing-machines' stores. The film is as competent in conveying emotions through visual than musical delights, but the raw core is still the romance between Guy and Geneviève played by a beautiful and young Catherine Deneuve, without it, this would have been one of these 'all flash and no substance' film. (Spoilers in Next Paragraph)
The story isn't a revolution, two young enamored people make plans for the future then comes the call of duty, they have one last night together, promise to wait for each other ignoring that the "harm is done" already and then there's the absence, the separation, and throughout her pregnancy, Geneviève is courted by a providential rich man named Roland Cassard (Marc Michel) which she finally marries, so her baby can have a father. When he's back, Guy is wounded physically before being hurt emotionally, he sinks in bitterness and alcohol before being rescued by his friend Madeleine, they marry and have a child. Finally, a few years after, the former lovers meet in an Esso station and the film concludes with the right notes of realism, foreshadowed by Genevieve's mother (Anne Vernon) who said that times fix everything and only in movies, people die from love.
If I wasn't so emotionally overwhelmed by that ending and how daring it was to contradict the then-romantic tropes, I would have kept thinking of a certain movie that almost won Best Picture last year. I just wish I saw Demy's "Umbrellas" before Damien Chazelle's "La La Land". Now I know where he got the inspiration, it's all to his credit to revive the magic of this classic for a contemporary tale, but now I see the ending less as a masterstroke of originality than a well made homage to Jacques Demy. The last time I had a similar regret is when I discovered Fellini after Kusturica's "Undeground", another Golden Palm winner.
So, what I loved about "The Umbrellas of Cherboug" is how misleading it actually is, these jazzy musical interludes, the playful way characters recite their lines by singing, you wouldn't believe this film would be so dark and so realistically bold, dealing with pregnancy, financial problems, not much war traumas than the disillusion of homecoming soldiers and of course, broken hearts. It's like a strawberry-flavor candy with a lemon bittersweet taste in the end. The film is well-made, well-edited, and well-written. Of course, the singing can get on people's heads but hey, the film is one hour and twenty something minutes long, it's not too much patience demanding.
And the final minutes will reward your patience anyway, listening to it, I know why Michel's name is Legrand.