Les Enfants du paradis (1945)
Directed by Marcel Carné

Film Review

A sprawling period melodrama that is only just held together by its flawless direction and glittering ensemble of mesmeric performances, Les Enfants du paradis has come to be regarded as the acme of French cinema.  It consistently comes out top in polls of the greatest French films and provides the more verbose film commentators with an easy excuse to choke on their own superlatives. A powerful tale of rivalry, betrayal and unrequited love, this opulent masterpiece has earned the epithet of the French equivalent of Gone With the Wind, and was the crowning achievement of the partnership between director Marcel Carné and writer Jacques Prévert.  Whilst it was made under the most difficult of circumstances, Les Enfants du paradis is a major technical and artistic feat that has widespread appeal and remains one of the most celebrated of French films, a landmark of 20th century cinema.

The idea for the film came about in January 1943, when the actor Jean-Louis Barrault persuaded director Marcel Carné (whom he had previously worked with on two films: Jenny and Drôle de drame) to make a film about the life of the important French mime artist Jean Baptiste Gaspard Debureau.  Although Carné was easily seduced by the concept, his screenwriter Jacques Prévert had reservations - mime did not exactly play to his strengths as a writer of dialogue.  Prévert was more interested in a contemporary of Debureau, the infamous thief, murderer and part-time poet Pierre-François Lacenaire.  The two men agreed that a film which featured both Debureau and Lacenaire would have great public interest and stand more chance of getting past the Nazi film censors.  Another historical figure was thrown in for good measure, the famous Parisian actor Frederick LeMaître, along with a fictional aristocrat based on the Duc de Morny.  These four characters would be rivals for the heart of the film's main protagonist, the free-spirited courtesan Garance.  The latter character was created specifically for an actress who had previously featured in three of Carné's films - the incomparable Arletty.  This was to be Arletty's greatest role and it is undoubtedly the actress's captivating performance which has done most to make the film such an enduring success.   Aged 37, and with six impressive films already under his belt (including his latest box office hit Les Visiteurs du soir), Marcel Carné was burning with enthusiasm as he set out make the greatest film of his career, but it was to prove a time-consuming and costly ordeal which came close to being derailed on more than one occasion.

Les Enfants du paradis took over two years to make and had a production cost of around 60 million francs, a phenomenal sum for a film made under wartime constraints.  A tenth of the budget went on a lavish reconstruction of the Boulevard du Temple, a major Parisian thoroughfare, at the Victorine studios in Nice; 200 yards in length, this was one of the largest sets ever built for a French film.  When a large part of this set was damaged by storm in the winter of 1943/4, it had to be rebuilt, at a cost of a million francs.  The biggest setback, however, came early in the shooting schedule, when the Italian co-producer backed out after the Allies had begun their offensive against Italy in the summer of 1943.  Not long after this, the film's French producer André Paulvé was dismissed by the Nazis because of his Jewish origins.  Disaster was averted when Pathé stepped in and agreed to finance the completion of the film, although the three-month hiatus added to the escalating production cost.

The biggest challenge that Carné faced was acquiring the materials needed to make the film.  Actors came very cheaply - he had no difficulty finding the 25,000 extras for the swelling crowd scenes.  Building materials and film stock were harder to come by, and electricity was likewise severely rationed.   Carné risked his own neck by hiring set designer Alexandre Trauner and composer Joseph Kosma, both Jews, to work on the film in secret.  In addition, Several members of the cast and crew (including the writer Jacques Prévert) were actively involved in the French Resistance.  In an ironic twist, the actor who was originally cast as the informer Jéricho, Robert Le Vigan, was exposed as being a collaborator.  When Le Vigan fled to Sigmaringen in Germany, he was replaced by Pierre Renoir, the older brother of director Jean Renoir.  Another complication was that the cinematographer Roger Hubert was not available for the final phase of filming at Pathé's studios in Paris in the spring of 1944.  His replacement, Philippe Agostini, had an arduous task to match Hubert's distinctive style of lighting, and received no credit for his efforts on the final film.  Not long after completing the film, Arletty was arrested for collaboration (the result of a brief affair with a German officer) and spent a short period in jail.

Once Les Enfants du paradis was in the can, its director did everything within his power to delay its release until after the Liberation (even to the extent of deliberately misplacing some of the reels).  Carné not only believed that his film would benefit from an eruption of patriotic sentiment but it would also play a positive role in helping France to regain her dignity after a humiliating period of military defeat and occupation.  Another thing that Carné was insistent upon was that the film should be shown in its entirety, as a three hour long epic and not, as it had been made (to conform with Vichy dictate), as two separate ninety minute long films (sub-titled Le Boulevard du crime and L'Homme blanc).  The cinema owners agreed to Carné's request, but doubled the price of the cinema tickets to make up for the lost income from having fewer daily screenings.  Following a successful premiere in March 1945, Les Enfants du paradis was released to almost universal critical acclaim.  In spite of the inflated ticket price, it attracted an audience of nearly five million in France, making it the second most popular film of the year, after Jean Dréville's La Cage aux rossignols.  The film took 41 million francs at the box office and critics were fulsome in their praise of it, although it failed to garner any awards other than a special mention at the 1946 Venice Film Festival.

Without a doubt, the main strength of Les Enfants du paradis is the quality of the performances from its exceptional cast.  As the indomitable Garance, Arletty earns her place in film history with a performance of breathtaking allure and vitality, captivating and mysterious as the woman that no man can possess, who revels in her freedom and yet appears to be tragically alone.   Equal credit should go to Jean-Louis Barrault, who achieves a similar career highpoint with his arresting portrayal of the great mime artist Baptiste Debureau.  Under the tutelage of his former drama teacher Étienne Decroux (who plays a supporting role in the film as Debureau's father and was incidentally mentor to the great Marcel Marceau), Barrault gives a mesmerising turn in the three set-piece mime shows, and brings a heart-wrenching realism to Baptiste's hopeless pursuit of Garance.  The habitually larger-than-life Pierre Brasseur very nearly steals the show as the incorrigibly romantic Lemaître (and is hilarious when his character goes into super-ham mode), whilst Marcel Herrand is no less excellent as the merciless criminal Larcenaire, exuding sly villainy from every pore.  Some exemplary character performances are supplied by Louis Salou, Pierre Renoir and Gaston Modot, who are perfectly cast as the Count de Montray, the peddler Jéricho and the likeable rogue Fil de Soie.  Also of note is Maria Casarès, stunning in her film debut (having distinguished herself on stage in Marcel Herrand's theatrical troupe at the Théâtre des Mathurins).  Watch very closely and you match catch a fleeting glimpse of Gérard Blain and Jean Carmet, very early in their careers.

As in the previous Carné-Prévert offering Les Visiteurs du soir, there is a distinct anti-Occupation, anti-Vichy subtext to Les Enfants du paradis, which a contemporary audience would have had little difficult in picking up.  The biggest giveaway is probably the period setting - France under the restored monarchy (1830-1848), a time when, as during the Occupation, the French Republic was in a temporary state of abeyance.  Parallels with France under the Nazis are bountiful, indeed too many to enumerate.  The mime theatre whose performers are forbidden from speaking (including a lion that dare not roar) is an obvious swipe at the broadbrush Nazi censorship of French theatre and cinema.  Treachery being a major theme of the film, there is no end of characters who are eager to denounce their fellows for spite or personal advantage, in particular the sickeningly venal Jéricho and Larcenaire, who personify the Nazi collaborator (and how ironic that the actor originally chosen to play the former should turn out to be a collaborator in real life!).  Prévert's black humour comes to the fore when he gets Larcenaire to play the part of a latter-day Iago, whilst standing next to an actor made up as Shakespeare's Othello (a subterfuge to mask the fact that Larcenaire is really playing the role of a Vichy agent).

Baptiste's mad pursuit of Garance, an overt symbol of freedom, would have resonated as the French nation's desire to be free of Nazi occupation.  Meanwhile, Garance herself represents the absolute antithesis of the Vichy government's idea of the good woman, the selfless housebound drone whose sole raison d'être is to propagate the species whilst acting as an unpaid slave and comforter for the master of the house.  Rather, Garance embodies the notion of the liberated modern woman, someone who will never submit to male dominance but who sees herself as a man's equal, free to choose the life she leads.  Garance's temporary capture by the Count de Montray is a crude but palpable metaphor for France' capitulation to Nazi Germany - she accepts her defeat but does not yield fully to her admirer, thereby preserving her mystique and dignity.  Even the film's title is mildly provocative.  It translates as The Children of the Gods, the Gods being the poor folk of Paris who occupied the highest balcony of the popular theatre.  It was this uncultured and opinionated mob (the 19th century equivalent of an X-Factor panel) which decided what was tolerated at the theatre, by loudly censuring anything they did not like.  Could Prévert possibly have had the German censors in mind?

Whilst an awareness of the film's historical context and its incredibly fraught production adds a frisson to the pleasure of watching it, none of this is a prerequisite for enjoying what is arguably the greatest of all French films.  Les Enfants du paradis is a sublime masterpiece of cinema art that stands on its own merits - its confident mise-en-scène, its polished art design, its marvellous screenwriting and its spellbinding performances.  The aching poetry of its central romantic entanglements is beautifully complemented by its twisted humour and a stylish tribute to the lost art of mime.  No one should be put off by its daunting three hour run time.  Les Enfants du paradis is assuredly one of the most captivating and satisfying of all French films, a genuine treasure of the seventh art.

Film Synopsis

Paris, circa 1830.  Frederick LeMaître is a young romantic who dreams of becoming a great actor.  Unable to find a role worthy of his talents, he gratefully accepts a small part in a mime show at the Funambules Theatre on the busy Boulevard du Crime.  Here, he meets and befriends a promising mime artist, Baptiste Debureau.  Whilst the latter is loved by fellow artist Nathalie, he only has eyes for Garance, a former prostitute who has recently joined the company.  Frederick is himself drawn to Garance, not knowing that she is also being courted by the notorious criminal Pierre-François Lacenaire and a wealthy aristocrat, the Count de Montray.  When she becomes implicated in one of Lacenaire's criminal exploits, Garance has no option but to surrender herself to de Montray.  Six years later, Garance returns to Paris and cannot resist watching Baptiste, now a major star, perform at the theatre where she once worked.   Suspecting he has a rival, de Montray sets out to discover who this may be and soon comes up against his most dangerous enemy, the villainous Lacenaire...