The Young Girls of Rochefort (Les Demoiselles de Rochefort) 1967 **1/2

In 1964 director Jacques Demy shocked the Cannes Film Festival when he released The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, a modern day (popular) opera entirely sung and set primarily to a jazz score.  Along with legendary French songwriter Michel Legrand, Demy wrote a musical soundtrack/script that was at times playful, romantic, and haunting. It was a box office and critical success, and it made its star, Catherine Deneuve, an internationally recognized movie star. It was Demy’s aim to create a new musical format, one that owed “nothing to American musical comedy and nothing to French operetta.” Yes, he found inspiration in such films as An American in Paris (1951) and Les Girls (1957), but he wanted his musicals to be uniquely Demy—a colorful fantasy world awash with whimsical musical numbers.  That is exactly what he created with The Young Girls of Rochefort in 1967. 

Set and filmed in the French western seaside town of Rochefort (on the banks of the Charente River),  The Young Girls of Rochefort centers around the artistically gifted and ambitious Garnier sisters: twins (and real-life sisters) Delphine (Deneuve) and  Solange (Françoise Dorléac).  Unfulfilled with their jobs of teaching ballet (Delphine) and giving music lessons (Solange), the sisters long to escape to Paris to realize their dreams. Oh, and both are looking for their dream man, too.  When a fair comes to town for the weekend the sisters decide they will leave with it and make their way to Paris and, hopefully, stardom. 

All of Demy’s films have a thematic connection in that they somehow examine the meaning of love and separation.  In The Young Girls of Rochefort these themes are examined by the search for one’s ideal love.  Not only do the twins long for their ideals, but so does their mother Yvonne (Danielle Darrieux) and a number of other characters in the film.  By being separated from their ideals (some of whom have already been met and others who were just missed by coincidence and/or circumstance), the film has an underlying melancholic feel to it which is sharply contrasted by the overly bright production designs and the energetic musical numbers. These are the elements that define and set apart a Demy musical from others.

The musical numbers here are unlike those in The Umbrellas of Cherbourg in that no dialogue is sung and they are clearly breaks in the story.  The film opens with an intricately choreographed number by Norman Maen, as a carnival sets up in the town square with Legrand’s jazz introduction playing in the background.  This really sets the atmosphere for the rest of the film—clothed in bright colors the dancers effortlessly construct an entire set before our very eyes.  From this scene Demy smoothly transitions to the twins overlooking apartment, where we find the girls immersed in their artistic pursuits.  We are quickly introduced to them and the next thing we know they are engaged in a hilarious dancing duet about being “Les Demoiselles de Rochefort” (AKA “The Twins’ Song”).  From there we are treated to countless other upbeat numbers full of pep and color.  Still, there are a few melancholic songs, the most famous being “Chanson de Delphine” (although the music is set to various lyrics, based on what character is singing the song, it is after all everyone’s love song, just with a different ideal lover sung in mind).  Oh, and did I mention Gene Kelly is in the film, too?

That’s right, Mr. American Musical himself is in this quirky French musical extravaganza, too.  Demy waited two years to make The Young Girls of Rochefort because Kelly was engaged with other projects.  He plays an American composer destined to meet and fall in love with Solange.  He may have been 55 when he made the film, but he was clearly in peak shape and performs two of the best numbers in the movie.  “Andy in Love” finds Kelly exuberantly dancing through the streets of Rochefort after having met his true love: Solange.  Each person he meets along the way he engages in a small, separate dance—he even jumps atop a car (not so bad for 55, huh?).  Of course, the most beautifully fluid dance is the one he does with Dorléac near the end of the film.  Balletic and romantic, it takes my breath away every time I see it.  Still, after watching these musical numbers you might be a tad confused by the voice of Andy—it was dubbed.  This is strange because Kelly spoke and sung fluent French, but Demy chose to use someone else’s voice. 

While The Young Girls of Rochefort may not be as wonderful as The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, it is still a highly enjoyable (and colorful) musical. The songs are bubbly and the dance sequences are brilliantly choreographed.  In addition, the film has a rather poignant note for two reasons.  One, Françoise Dorléac died in a car crash just prior to the film’s premiere, and so it is nice to see her working so happily alongside her real-life sister Catherine Deneuve.  Second, this is the last good film Kelly danced in (Xanadu was crap).  For those of you who call yourselves Gene Kelly fans but haven’t seen this you should be ashamed.  Yes, it’s in French, but it is also the last time you truly get to see Kelly show off his extraordinary gifts as a dancer.  In the words of Shakespeare (sort of): Get thee to Netflix!

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (Les Parapluies De Cherbourg) 1964 ****

Before her role in director Jacques Demy’s 1964 classic musical, Les Parapluies De Cherbourg, Catherine Deneuve was best known for giving birth to Roger Vadim’s illegitimate son. In a way, this was good preparation for her portrayal of an unmarried, 17-year-old who finds herself pregnant by a boyfriend serving in the Algerian War. Just twenty-years old when this film made her an international star, Deneuve’s melancholic performance was greatly enhanced by an unforgettable Michel Legrand musical score. Nominated for five Academy Awards, including Best Foreign Language Film, Best Screenplay, and Best Musical Score, this film won the Golden Palm and the OCIC.

Les Parapluies De Cherbourg is my all-time favorite film. I was in graduate school, studying French history, when a colleague asked what I thought of the French New Wave. This discussion naturally included the French’s love of jazz and films with unhappy endings. This, of course, was a perfect time for my colleague to mention that there was a film that encompassed both of these elements: Les Parapluies De Cherbourg. A lover of musicals since childhood, I jumped at the chance to watch this film once a copy could be procured. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.

I suspect I was just as shocked as the audience at the 1964 Cannes Film Festival when I realized that the ENTIRE film is sung (in French, of course)—there is no “traditional” dialogue. Instead, it is a modern day (popular) opera, set primarily to a jazz score. This tends to create a problem for American audiences who overwhelmingly dislike reading subtitles at “normal” speed, let alone at song-lyric speed. About fifteen minutes into watching I turned the subtitles off. My French was passable at the time, so I could mostly keep up with what was being sung.

Legendary French songwriter Michel Legrand, with the aid of Demy and others, wrote a musical soundtrack/script that is at times playful, romantic, and haunting. The most famous song is the title song, “Les Parapluies De Cherbourg” (more commonly known in English as “I Will Wait for You”). The instrumental version, which closes the film in heart-wrenching fashion (you will never forget it once you experience it), is brilliant all by itself. Then, when you set effortless lyrics to the score, it is a phenomenal love song. The closing pass of the song (finished off with a rousing violin-drenched crescendo) is:

Ils se sont séparés sur le quai d'un gare

Ils se sont éloignés dans un dernier regard

Oh je t'aim' ne me quitte pas

Loosely translated, from French to English:

They separated on the platform of a station

They moved away in one last look

Oh I love you does not leave me

The best recorded version of this song is by the Greek diva-extraordinaire Nana Mouskouri. Often imitated but never surpassed by countless covers (by such artists as Tony Bennett and Carlo Berardinucci), it is a timeless song that even after 45+ years doesn’t sound dated. In addition to this gem there are other seamless songs that carry the film along to its eventual devastating conclusion.

Another startling element of the film is the way Demy uses color to carry the story. Cherbourg is an often rainy and dreary port city in Normandy, so the bright blues, oranges, pinks, reds, and yellows that Demy uses in the clothing and overall set design is far from a realistic portrait of the title city. Yet, the virtual Technicolor world that he creates, with bright swatches of color, serves as a co-conspirator in the film. For example, in the beginning of the film everything jumps with color, which corresponds to the happy state of young lovers Genevieve (Deneuve) and Guy (Nino Castelnuovo). In a way the bright pastels serve as blinders—the young, impetuous lovers are surrounded by bright, clear color, but they can’t truly see what lies ahead. However, by the end of the film, when the now irrevocably parted lovers meet by chance one snowy night, there is a notable absence of color. Agnes Varda, Demy’s wife (and a director in her own right) has said that Demy’s use of color was aimed at portraying the violence and the cruelty of the story.

For those who like to see happy endings, there is no crueler ending than what you are given in this film. I have often contemplated why the ending is so emotionally jarring. I think it has a lot to do with the youthful exuberance shown by Genevieve and Guy, who are so much in love at the start of the film. It is a pure and innocent love, which in any other film would have come off as sickeningly saccharin. Then, your heart absolutely breaks at the famous train scene where Guy goes off to Algeria with a teary-eyed Genevieve on the train platform. But that’s okay, because the movie is only half over and you know they are going to get married and have a child named Francoise as soon as he returns—right? After all, she did sing she would wait for him! Oh, but she finds out she’s pregnant and Guy doesn’t write and the next thing you know she’s marrying that wealthy jewel smuggler (Marc Michel) from Lola (another Demy musical, from 1961) who you felt so bad for when his romantic hopes were crushed by that slut Anouk Aimee! Yet, still somewhere in your mind is the thought that Guy will come home and save Genevieve from a loveless marriage and all will be right in Cherbourg. But, alas, that’s not what happens.

Instead, you learn the bittersweet lessons that love does not always conquer all and that not everyone (especially you the viewer) gets a happy ending. Instead, people settle. Genevieve settles for wealth and security; Guy settles for companionship and loyalty. The one small detail that the viewer can take solace in is the unforgettable final scene, where by revealing the names of their respective children, both named Francoise, the couple are somehow still connected—even if they are living different lives they need only say the name of their child and some semblance of what once was pure love remains: “Oh I love you does not leave me.”

This movie made Deneuve a star. Her Genevieve was innocence personified. Called upon to display every emotion, from love to despair, she transforms a naïve, love-struck teenager into a resigned, world-weary woman who accepts that life isn’t always fair. Of course, Roman Polanski and Luis Bunuel couldn’t wait to tarnish that innocence, but that’s a story for another day.

 

This article was nominated for a 2011 CIMBA in the category of Best Film Review (Musical or Comedy). The CIMBA is the CMBA's award for excellence in classic movie blogging.