Movie review: Paris 36 (Faubourg 36)

by John P. Meyer

There are several aspects of Christophe Barratier's charming and atmospheric picture Paris 36 that make it worthy of one's jaunt to the nearest arthouse cinema playing it: the variety of musical production numbers (staged in conditions both primitive and elaborate); the suddenly quite contemporary backstory involving a philosophical struggle between fascism and socialism; the magical manner in which the filmmakers transformed a back lot in Prague into the Paris of an earlier era; and perhaps most of all the debut of an amazingly talented young actress, Nora Arnezeder, who so impressed the director that he re-crafted the lead role in order to accommodate her inappropriate (in terms of the script) youth.

The play is, in essence, a love story, but in typical French fashion the love extends beyond the romantic and familial sorts (both of which play vital roles) into more esoteric realms of affection, such as love for the theater and patriotism. It's set in the outskirts of Paris circa 1936 (thus the title), as the government of Léon Blum rides a wave of populist sentiment into the prime minister's residence.

The story centers on a character named Pigoil (Gérard Jugnot), who takes his employment at the Chansonia music hall quite seriously. When the house is shut down (due to a combination of circumstances which include overdue rent, the death of the owner and civil unrest), Pigoil - in an unaccountable fit of misplaced locational loyalty - enlists the aid of some fellow actors and backstage employees to revitalize the abandoned establishment and launch a new production.

The property's gangsterish landlord - a villain with a soft spot for gorgeous dames named Galapiat (Bernard-Pierre Donnadieu) - allows the band of virtual squatters to occupy and work in his establishment on the condition that they give his new-found, would-be paramour (Arnezeder, as a singing sensation named Douce) the lead role in whatever production they care to mount.

When Pigoil, along with co-directors Jacky (Kad Merad) and Milou (Clovis Cornillac, bearing some resemblance to a youthful DiCaprio), hear Douce perform - and then marvel at the revelation of her satiny gams as she, upon request, willingly unveils them - they are sold. (Milou buys in more heavily than the others, falling for the ingenue like a sack of lead potatoes.)

Pigoil, meanwhile, has family issues involving the wandering eye (and etc.) of his wife, and her eventual departure to the countryside hinterlands - which is complicated by the fact that Pigoil's beloved son, Jojo (Maxence Perrin) is in her custody. (Jojo is prone to dance and sing while accompanied by an accordion player - which, while it might prove to be a social impediment in North Texas, reveals itself to be the veritable cat's meow in the streets of pre-war Paris.)

Each character has his or her little subplot playing itself out, which may account for the (perhaps overly) generous 120-minute run-time of the piece. Milou, for instance, is a socialist agitator and union organizer, putting himself in harm's way to enlist factory workers in the cause of social justice. The hapless Jacky envisions himself an accomplished and extremely clever vocal impressionist, when in fact (and to the chagrin of the theater audience - and us) he sucks big green ones. Ironically, Jacky finds his most appreciative audience amongst a regular gathering of fascists, who find his take on Léon Blum and other populist leaders downright knee-slapping hilarious.

Visually, Barratier's movie is a delight, employing beautiful sets and sharp cinematography. The staged performances in particular are marvelous to see, with the camera shifting from footlight views to spinning overhead camera angles. Dramatically, and particularly in terms of a mainstream American audience (who as a group would prefer regular flossing to the reading of subtitles), the going gets rougher. French sensibilities are simply differently oriented than American ones. When it comes to truffles (no, not the chocolate ones) vs. french fries, there's little doubt about the side on which our baguette is buttered.

In case you missed it when we posted it during its run at the AFI Dallas film fest, check out our audio interview with Christophe Barratier and Nora Arnezeder.