Demy More

 I think the first time I saw The Umbrellas of Cherbourg I was distracted by the sheer virtuosity of it all. I wondered how it was pulled off at nearly every turn, and imagined the headache of tethering dialogue to melody in a way that feels natural. Musicals already require a withheld cynicism - a more intense suspension of disbelief to break through the artifice - made even harder here by Demy’s decision to never relent from song and keep it rolling uninterrupted for 90 minutes.Or does it make it easier? I’m not sure. I’m sure that I couldn’t pull off what Michel Legrand did here, and I’m also sure that there aren’t enough hours in the day for me to direct a film as fluidly as Jacques does here. I can say the task itself seems daunting and at times I found that distracting the first time I saw it, like a song that seems to remind you of how hard it was to construct and play at nearly every turn, but this time around I allowed myself to luxuriate in the image and story itself and it paid off. The narrative here is a simple enough; young doomed love and the crushing weight of life itself, and the way love is often commodified and compromised in its wake. Economic and societal fidelity serve as a constant disincentive to Guy and Gen’s hopes and dreams together, raising their lovely baby boy and clinging to love even as circumstances seek to tear them apart. The story spoke to me more this time….. a lot more. Life has a way of bait and switching happiness itself, a cruel exchange if there ever was one, where one day’s happiness births the next’s anxieties. I’ve become so wary of this unspoken contract that I’ve found myself avoiding happiness altogether, striving more for a stasis that doesn’t beat me down everytime I dare feel elated. Whether I like it or not, the majority of life can feel bittersweet, especially in my older years of diminishing returns. This movie emanates that ebb and flow so beautifully, with the colors offsetting the melancholy. Bernard Evein designed the sets (pour one out of the man) and Jacqueline Moreau donned the costumes to fit every frame (pour another one). This alone, in and of itself, is such a remarkable achievement; a loving homage to the musicals of Donen and Minnelli that thankfully avoids the modern pitfalls of muted colors and tones to save face. The movie itself is one big sustained stunt, so why shouldn’t the colors fall in line with this decision? Do these colors pop to remind us that even in our lowest moments, the world is full of beauty and grace. I love that Demy doesn’t demonize anyone stuck in this mess; not Roland nor Gen’s mother, even as this vow to wait has been broken. Life goes on with or without us.