Film
La Vie en Rose + live performance
- Director
- Olivier Dahan
- Certificate
- 12A
- Running Time
- 140 mins
Given the intensity of Marion Cotillard’s Oscar winning central performance and the eventful life of Edith Piaf, it’s nothing short of miraculous that Olivier Dahan managed to fashion a biopic that’s so thoroughly unengaging. Seemingly overwhelmed by a wealth of promising material (poverty, death, disease, cruelty, addiction, tantrums), Dahan crams it all into a series of melodramatic vignettes. As if determined to avoid the staid linear biopic approach, he then chops them up, apparently at random, to produce a clumsy, disjointed endurance test for even the most dedicated fan of the diminutive, husky Gallic warbler. Look – there’s Edith as an unhappy little girl. And here she is as a miserable, wizened old dear (actually just 47). Now Old Edith’s collapsing on stage, but there’s Young Edith singing heartily in a Parisian bar, and Middle-Aged Edith consumed by grief at the death of her lover. A key element of her story is even withheld for a throwaway last reel flashback. Confused? You will be. By the end credits, you won’t be regretting rien so much as your decision to invest an evening and the best part of a tenner in this mess.
Young Edith gets three miserable movie childhoods for the price of one, with sour street singer mum (Clotilde Courau), sullen itinerant circus performer dad (Jean-Paul Rouve) and grouchy brothel madam granny. Just as soon as she bonds with the tarts-with-hearts, however, she’s dragged off, kicking and screaming, for more unpleasantness with dad. Little wonder she hits the bottle and becomes a drug addict. But, wait – we’re getting ahead of ourselves, as is the film. First she’s discovered by brusque nightclub owner Gerard Depardieu, who’s subsequently killed in mysterious circumstances. Edith finds herself blamed and quizzed aggressively by the cops about her criminal connections while flashguns pop in her face. It’s a suitably dramatic moment but quickly forgotten as we’re whisked, via the magic of the cheesy newspaper headline montage, to the height of her international fame. Emblematic of this wasted opportunity is its closing scene, in which Edith consents to a rare interview. Perhaps Dahan will finally attempt some insight into his subject’s character. But no – the airhead bimbo hackette is conducting one of those Sunday supplement Q&A fillers of the ‘What’s your favourite colour?’ variety.
The Cube’s screening is preceded by a live performance in which Catherine Deas, accompanied by local musicians, will present her own musical tribute including some of Edith Piaf’s best-loved songs.
is needed now More than ever
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