There is a deeper meaning here, but I don't know if I care. Many have suggested in the past that mere technical brilliance is not enough to carry a film; I am guilty of having believed this once. And to be honest, I don't know if I can spot technical brilliance, but I know spectacle when I see it. I understand the scope of something, and this has a scope that is breathtaking. The idea that technical brilliance cannot carry a film suggests a lack of appreciate for the feeling of wonder. While technical brilliance is not necessary, and while technical brilliance does not necessarily equal greatness, there are times when it evokes such powerful feelings of wonder that it…

82/100

First half as sublime as I remembered, right down to the thrilling curtain drop—not a cliffhanger, exactly (that would feel cheap), but an abrupt, seemingly out-of-character decision that effectively turns all of the established relationships upside-down. Second half's a bit wobblier, mostly because Carné and Prévert struggle to find room for all the characters "several years later"—the Count (who's barely glimpsed in part one) has usurped Frédérick Lemaître's role as primary impediment to Garance and Baptiste, for example, yet Lemaître's diva behavior dominates the opening of part two, to the point where it feels like the movie's wandered off course. (Pierre Brasseur's mugging may be a contributing factor here—like Julien Carette's vaudeville clown in Grand Illusion, it's an intentionally…

Last week I watched the 1943 classic The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, considered by some as the best British movie ever made.

Les Enfants du Paradis carries this honor for France and is the very definition of spectaculaire. With glorious performances, enormous sets filled to the brim with genuinely interesting characters and literally hundreds of extras, it tells the 1830's story of a young lady and the men that love her.

At the time, this was the most expensive French film ever made and is such a great accomplishment when you consider that the country was inhabited by a hostile enemy, everything was in short supply and members of the crew were active members of the French resistance.…

French resistance fighters! Nazi sympathizers! An illicit affair between a lead actress and a Luftwaffe officer! And that’s only what was happening offscreen in “Children of Paradise.” 

With behind the scenes action so close to myth that it defies reason why it has never been the subject of its own film, “Children” somehow still matches its WWII real-world intrigue with the lives of its diverse characters on screen. 

With a cast of literal thousands - 1800 of whom were allegedly undercover French resistance members - director Marcel Carné crafts every eccentric role with the utmost affection; particularly those of ‘the Gods,’ or the lower classes. 

The intricate focus on the passions of the otherwise looked-over in society imbues a movie…

Michael Powell once wrote, "No artist believes in escapism. And we secretly believe that no audience does. We have proved, at any rate, that they will pay to see the truth, for other reasons than her nakedness." I must suspect that when he wrote it he was thinking of the opening of this film, which consists of a sideshow talker beckoning the crowd to "See the naked truth!", namely the film's lynch-pin, Garance, admiring herself in a tub. This incessantly amazing film works perfectly well as an epic romantic melodrama, but it gains incredible depth and resonance when you realize that Garance's four imposing suitors are really in love with the truth. The aristocrat craves it in his world of…

In Paris in the early nineteenth century, the boisterous Boulevard du Crime, full of street artists and theatres, is the scene of love stories marked by an inevitable fate and fatality. Garance is a beautiful woman who falls in love at first sight with Baptiste Deburau, a talented pantomime artist who gives life to the mythical figure of Pierrot. Baptiste's shyness prevents him from approaching the woman he so dearly loves and she finds refuge in the charismatic actor Frédérick Lemaître. Some other characters enter the scene, the hopeful Nathalie, the rebel Pierre-François Lacenaire, the vain Comte Édouard de Montray, and thus jealousy, banality and pride, unrequited love, revenge and frustration are combined. Les Enfants du Paradis is theatre as…

One of my goals is to see all 200 movies listed in Danny Peary's Cult Movie books volumes 1-3. After finishing Children of Paradise...I have now seen 112 of those 200 movies. I actually picked this movie up after reading feedingbrett's review here on Letterboxd. About 30 minutes into the movie I started thinking the movie was one of the Peary movies...and sure enough...it is listed in Volume 3.

As for the movie...I think the best way to describe it is...a classic version of There's Something About Mary....granted this one was made 53 years before Mary...but both movies have a female lead that all men fall in love with. This one is set in Paris in roughly 1830.... four men…

An epic of jealousy and ever-changing love polygons. Prévert’s script could be wittier considering the subject matter and cast full of jesters, but he throws in enough painful truths about love to more than make up for that. Lacenaire’s thinly veiled presentation of the film’s themes in Part 2 is so spot on that you have to instantly forgive how blunt the writing is. Love really does make cuckholds of us all.

The mise en scène is as busy and decadent as a three hour movie about performers should be. Even the minor events on screen are staged like one of their 19th century stage farces–our attention is constantly directed with beautiful two shots and obvious score flourishes. That makes…

www.scene-stealers.com/reviews/neil-young-journeys-blu-ray-review-children-of-paradise/

Shot at least partially in secret under unthinkable conditions during the German occupation of France in World War II, director Marcel Carné’s Children of Paradise is now widely regarded as the best romantic film of all time.

No less than four men—a criminal, a Count, a mime, and an actor—fall for an enigmatic woman amidst the turbulent backdrop of a seedy Paris theater district in the early 1800s. This epic film is over three hours, but it’s brimming full of extravagant sets and passionate performances that look terrific in this Criterion Collection edition.

It’s easy to get caught up in the naked jealousy, longing, betrayal, and above all, unrequited love that’s on display in Children of Paradise. That’s largely…

Dopo “Il Porto delle Nebbie”, il secondo film di Marcel Carné che ho voluto visionare è stato questo “Amanti perduti” del 1945, della pazzesca durata di 190 minuti nella versione integrale. La storia segue le vicende di Garance, una donna molto attraente che verrà corteggiata durante le vicende da moltissimi uomini che arricchiranno la scena con le loro storie. Tra i più importanti sicuramente Battista, un povero artista di teatro, e Frederick, un seducente e solare attore francese. Il valore della pellicola di Carné risiede essenzialmente in due elementi: i personaggi e il teatro. Entrambi sono infatti ciò che più accattiva durante la visione di queste tre ore e passa, che arrivano a pesare molto poco relativamente parlando proprio grazie…

I love the quality of the dialogue in old French movies, every line is a poem. For some reason the succinctness of the French language and the low-key way of speaking that best suits it invite poetry into everyday speech. The characters are constantly squeezing philosophy and cynical sweeping statements about humanity into their sentences. They rap back and forth, jousting with words - I love the adversarial nature of their conversations. It just reminds me of how much joy there is to be had in language. More than the direction of this film, which is impressive, and the circumstances in which it was made, Nazi occupied France, more than these things I love the work of the writer, Jacqeus…

A unique tone, or more accurately uniquely successful in capturing its tone, and equally successful in constructing a story about 19th century theater. If I had seen this before Sawdust and Tinsel I would have been positively offended, it so pales in comparison. That is to say, if I had been as aware of its lineage as Bergman was, I would have been embarrassed for him. Not because Children of Paradise captures the life of theater in the way The Red Shoes does, but rather it is such a clear monument to the scene, one should do some aspect of it better or avoid it completely. Bergman's choice was to be somehow more melodramatic in feel with less melodramatic implications.…