I live in a rainy city. Even today, after a week of perfect
sun that seemed to serve as a prelude to summer, the skies opened and I found
myself digging out my rain coat again. That’s what happens when you live in a
port city. And with the closure of this year’s Cannes Film Festival on my mind,
with a French film victorious, there was no better time to see Jacques Demy’s
classic 1964 film The Umbrellas of
Cherbourg.
On the surface, this seemed like a simple love story when I first
saw it years ago. The young man, Guy (Nino Castelnuovo) is in love with
17-year-old Genevieve (the luminous living legend Catherine Deneuve, in her
breakthrough role). He’s a mechanic who dreams of opening his own garage. She
works for her mother in the town’s only umbrella boutique, which is on the
verge of financial ruin. They talk of marriage, although her mother disapproves
(he has only a sickly godmother, thus completing the familial economics of the
story). Figurative dark clouds appear overhead in addition to the rains: the Algerian
War is raging several hundred miles away, and he must serve. “I will wait for
you”, she sings to him, repeating “je t’aimes,
je t’aime, je t’aimes” repeatedly as his train takes him away. While Guy’s
away, a wealthy jeweler has his eye on Catherine, and the separation and other
circumstances conspire to keep the young lovers away for good. I haven’t even
mentioned that the whole has nary a line of spoken dialogue, as everything is
sung beginning to end, and it finishes in a lightning-fast 90 minutes.
The secret lies in the film’s simple structure: a boy and a
girl in love, torn apart by life circumstances and choices, but not by plot
machinations or something as convenient as deus
ex machina. When Demy collaborated with Michel Legrand for the film’s
now-famed score, they stuck so faithfully to the idea of a three-hanky-weeper
that they wrote at which points in the film each of the three figurative
hankies should actually be taken out. The operetta format elevates how we see
and experience young love for the first time, when everything in life tastes,
smells, feels and sounds that much
better. There is nothing else in the world but love. Emotions are heightened
and never stop, even when the emotions swell and contract, for better or for worse,
and Demy understands this. The music, while constant, doesn’t come at your
relentlessly. Instead, it is as gentle as the tide, ebbing and flowing, but it
never stops. It may have a sweeping orchestral suite throughout, but it’s also
heavily jazz-influenced. Regardless, the two genres make compliment each other
seamlessly. This is a seemingly small charmer of a film that grows into a grand
masterpiece and reminds you of how you felt in that first brush of true love,
and how heartbreaking it is when it doesn’t work out. The film’s coda, which I won’t
give away, gives closure, is almost unbearably cruel, but also accepting of the
hard choices we make in life, without judgment.
Cherbourg was
filmed in eye-popping gorgeous colour schemes. The town feels just a bit more
lived-in than most film musicals of the era. You could sense that people actually
lived there and that it wasn’t just a film set. Demy knows that such a simple touch
made the film connect that much more to the audience: this could happen to even
the most uncomplicated people you know, and it’s a complete heartbreaker when
life intrudes. There’s an expression that God likes having a laugh when people make
plans for the future. While religion doesn’t figure heavily in Cherbourg, one is reminded that
compromise and making do are what shapes our experiences and makes us into the
people we are. The film’s final scene, when Guy and Genevieve meet under circumstances
more complicated than they are, is a coup
de grace of such delicate balance that if the emotions were glass, they’d
be smashed to smithereens.
Who says life is simple? It’s not, and you must be prepared
for any circumstance. That’s what life in Cherbourg is like, just as it is in
my city. In both cases, carry an umbrella, just in case. The Umbrellas of
Cherbourg is available in glorious DVD and Blu-Ray. Watch it with a box of
Kleenex. This is one weeper that earns its tears honestly.