Marcel Carné’s Children of Paradise was made at the height of the Occupation, but you’d never know it from the sumptuous sets, luxurious costumes, and huge cast of extras which inhabit the frame for the entire 190-minute length of this epic romance. A poignant examination on the differing facets of love wrapped up in a melodramatic plot featuring a romantic pentagon, Children of Paradise may occasionally seem overcooked or emotionally naïve, but the acting is tremendously moving and the direction superb. It’s one of the true gems of pre-New Wave French cinema.
Children of Paradise (Blu-ray)
Directed by Marcel Carné
Studio: Criterion
Year: 1945
Aspect Ratio: 1.37:1 1080p AVC codec
Running Time: 190 minutes
Rating: NR
Audio: PCM 1.0 French
Subtitles: English
Region: A
MSRP: $ 39.95
Release Date: September 18, 2012
Review Date: September 20, 2012
The Film
4.5/5
Glamorous French artiste Garance (Arletty) knows that her looks are a ticket to many things in life that she wants, but she finds herself suddenly with a troublesome quartet of suitors on her hands: a shy but talented mime Baptiste (Jean-Louis Barrault), a writer who dabbles in thievery and murder (Marcel Herrand), a talented but unemployed actor (Pierre Brasseur), and the man she ultimately and conveniently chooses, the wealthy, aristocratic Count Edouard De Montray (Louis Salou). Baptiste loves her with an innocent carnality but is too shy to act on his feelings until it’s too late. Actor Lemaitre and criminal Lacenaire look on their feelings either pragmatically or esoterically. But the Count is possessive and though conscious that his ardor for his wife is not returned in kind, it’s enough that she’s his until it’s made known to him that perhaps she still intends to explore her feelings for the real love of her life.
Jacques Prévert’s screenplay touches on love in all its many faces: selfish and selfless, possessive and free, overpowering and incidental, carnal and ethereal, even heterosexual and homosexual, and they’re all contained within the confines of this three-plus hour movie. Marcel Carné’s camera gets us instantly involved in the proceedings by wandering casually down the “Boulevard of Crime” where we meet almost all of the central characters in the drama early-on in brilliant tracking shots that set up the theatricality of the entire enterprise. He also takes us backstage at Les Funambules, the mime theater where later important events in the scenario occur. But the atmosphere we take in wandering around the unused sets while various performers: acrobats, jugglers, tumblers, and dwarfs mill around is one of the greatest ever set-ups for the ensuing story. Jean-Louis Barrault’s introduction as Baptiste to the audience is one of cinema’s most brilliant set pieces as he provides proof in pantomime that the woman they’re about to arrest for pickpocketing is an innocent dupe, and all of his subsequent pantomimes within the theater as he rises to acclaim as a great artist are exciting to behold. (Though if one is allergic to pantomime, these sequences can seem overly prolonged and unnecessary.) Prévert’s eventual love connection between Baptiste and Garance in the film’s second half (the movie is divided into two lengthy parts) seems more attuned to a dramaturgy of a generation earlier (femme fatale lures husband from devoted wife and loving, cherubic infant), and these scenes are the film’s weakest. On the other hand, the showdown between all of the various romantic combatants taking place at a performance of Shakespeare’s Othello, the ultimate play of possessive, overpowering love and fateful jealousy, works wonderfully despite its dramatic machinations.
The men all make the most of their opportunities in the movie with triumphant performances by Jean-Louis Barrault, Pierre Brasseur, and Marcel Herrand. Herrand playing the marcelled and foppily dressed Lacenaire gives the most controlled performance of the trio of male stars oozing menace and calculated chicanery from every pore. Brasseur revels in the hamminess of his outsized actor role Lemaitre while Barrault’s innocently smitten Baptiste tugs at the heart strings with his naiveté in matters of romance. Arletty seems just a bit old to pull off her demimondaine part with these particular men, but her stylish command of every situation ultimately wins the day. Maria Casarès has an impossible part: the rejected woman who stands on the sidelines loving in vain and making do with the crumbs offered by the man she loves, but she does what she can with it with dignity.
Video Quality
4.5/5
The film’s original theatrical aspect ratio of 1.37:1 is faithfully rendered in a 1080p transfer using the AVC codec. Meticulously restored in 2011, the film’s age is never betrayed in the transfer except with the less than optimum blacks in the grayscale. Otherwise, whites are crisp, sharpness is excellent except in one or two shots where less than optimum elements had to suffice, and detail in close-ups is quite extraordinary for a film of this age. A great film has been restored to greatness (one glimpse at the comparison featurette at what the restorers started with is quite a revelation). The white subtitles are easy to read. The film has been divided into 27 chapters.
Audio Quality
4/5
The PCM 1.0 (1.1 Mbps) sound mix has some initial scratchiness but elsewhere the sound is as good as sound elements from this period can be. Though much of the film was post synched and one can tell by the hollowness of the dialogue in those scenes, the dialogue is never overpowered by the sound effects or the music. There is no problem with hiss, crackle, or pops on the track, either.
Special Features
5/5
Each part of the film has a different speaker for the audio commentary. Brian Stonehill comments on the film’s first half while Charles Affron does the honors for part two. Affron’s style of speaking is more audience friendly and is the better of the two tracks, but both are certainly worth hearing for their information and interpretation.
Most of the bonus features are contained on a second Blu-ray disc in the set:
Terry Gilliam’s introduction to the movie runs 5 ¼ minutes. Ordinarily, one should skip this until watching the film for the first time as the director tends to give away important plot points in his discussion, but as this feature is not on the same disc as the film, there is little danger of that occurring. It’s in 1080i.
A restoration comparison of before and after shots from different parts of the movie show the enormous effort that it took to bring the film into the near-pristine state in which it now exists. A montage of before and after shots runs 4 ¼ minutes in 1080p.
The U.S. theatrical trailer runs 3 ¼ minutes in 1080i.
“Once Upon a Time: Children of Paradise” is a 2009 documentary by director Julie Bonan on the making of the film combining stories of the film’s production with social and political events of the two years of its production. It runs 51 ¼ minutes.
“The Look of Children of Paradise” is a 22 ½-minute visual essay on the production and costume design of the picture. Produced by Paul Ryan, the featurette also offers biographies of production designer Alexandre Trauner and costume designer Mayo. It’s in 1080p.
“The Birth of Children of Paradise” is a 1967 German documentary by Peter Gehrig in which he interviews many of the film’s chief contributors including director Marcel Carné, writer Jacques Prévert, production designer Alexandre Trauner, composer Maurice Thiriet, and stars Arletty, Jean-Louis Barrault, and Pierre Brasseur. Also commenting on the film are (then) members of the French New Wave of directors Claude Lelouch, Agnes Varda, Louis Malle, Francois Truffaut, and Jacques Demy. It runs 63 ½ minutes in 1080i.
The enclosed 41-page booklet contains the chapter listing, a cast and crew list, some excellent stills from the movie, film professor Dudley Andrew’s celebratory essay on the movie, director Marcel Carné’s thoughts on the film forty-five years after the fact, and notes on the restoration and transfer of the film.
The Criterion Blu-rays include a maneuvering tool called “Timeline” which can be pulled up from the menu or by pushing the red button on the remote. It shows you your progress on the disc, the title of the chapter you’re now in, and index markers for the commentary that goes along with the film, all of which can be switched on the fly. Additionally, two other buttons on the remote can place or remove bookmarks if you decide to stop viewing before reaching the end of the film or want to mark specific places for later reference.
In Conclusion
4.5/5 (not an average)
A great film gets a great high definition transfer with Criterion’s Children of Paradise. With a sumptuous production and superb direction, the film has never looked or sounded this good before, and the copious bonus features contained on two discs in this set add additional luster to this must-have release. Highly recommended!
Matt Hough
Charlotte, NC
