077 - Children of Paradise, 1945, France. Dir. Marcel Carne.
In 1981 a movie came out called Chariots of Fire.
It was an epic film about runners in the 1924 Olympics and how their personal faith and their life commitments had an impact upon their running.
Harold Abrahams, a committed Jew, and Eric Liddell, a devout Christian, meet and become teammates while attending the University of Cambridge.
Abrahams experiences anti-Semitic treatment from others, but he finds solace and acceptance through acting in the Gilbert and Sullivan Club and through running.
Liddell faces pressure from his sister, who believes running is trivial compared to his work as a missionary, so he must find a way to articulate that running is equally an important part of his life's work.
The men work hard to excel at their sport, and eventually they both make it on the Olympic team.
There are challenges that they must overcome regarding their respective faiths, and there are victories and defeats that they experience along the way in their respective races. They run different distances, so they each have opportunities to succeed or fail without competing against one another.
The film, of course, builds up to the Olympic races, where a lifetime of labor comes down to a single moment.
Who will win?
It is dramatic. And it is captivating.
The film was aided by a memorable score composed by a man named Vangelis, and it inspired a generation of people to take up the sport of running or to pursue their own particular goals with dedication and commitment.
It was nominated for seven Academy Awards and won four, including Best Picture and Best Original Screenplay.
In addition to its success as a sports film, Chariots of Fire became memorable for its articulation of the concept of calling.
A man is called to do something. He is placed on the Earth with a purpose to fulfill.
As he fulfills his purpose, he himself finds fulfillment.
At one point in the film, Eric Liddell articulates why he runs, and he makes this statement that resonated with audiences around the world:
"I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure."
When I run I feel His pleasure.
People responded to this concept, this idea, this way of looking at things, that a person could be born to do something, that it could be a gift, a divine gift, and that it could produce pleasure in the heart of the person and also in the heart of the one who made him.
Calling. Profession. Vocation.
Notice that all three of those terms involve the action of speaking.
Calling. To call. To call out. To name. Old English, ceallian, from Old Norse, kalla, to summon loudly.
Profession. Professional. Professionalism. To profess. Latin, pro- + fateri, to declare publicly.
Vocation. Vocal. Voice. Latin, vocare, to call, from vox, voice.
I speak. I proclaim. I call out, I profess, I give voice to my calling, my profession, my vocation.
I declare that this is what I was put on this Earth to do.
How often do you see a film that focuses on the concept of one's calling?
Marcel Carné's 1945 film Children of Paradise does not focus only on calling--it is largely a love story--but it makes calling and destiny an integral part of its worldview. And the logic that drives the plot.
It is not devout in its treatment. It does not concern the religious faith or racial identity of its protagonists. It is not similar to Chariots of Fire in topic or tone. It is not so sincere or sober a film as Chariots. It is light, buoyant, speaking the speech trippingly on the tongue. It is epic in scope, lasting more than three hours and covering different time periods in two parts. It is joyous and celebratory. It is well-balanced and sublime.
It describes a group of people who are born to do something, who have it in their blood, who have it interwoven in their very being a particular life's work.
It is who you are. It is what you do. It is what you become.
Children of Paradise is about actors in 19th-century France.
They begin in the streets. They work their way up to a second-rate theatre. They fall in love. They pursue their destinies.
The character Frederick, the self-proclaimed Frederick the Great, articulates it for us.
"When I act, I'm madly in love. You hear? Madly. At the final curtain, the audience leaves with my love. Understand? I make the audience a gift of my love. The audience is gratified, and so am I. Then I become sensible, calm, and free again."
When I run, I feel his pleasure.
When I act, I'm madly in love.
He enters an altered state. It transforms him.
This is what he was born to do, and he does it. And he does it well.
We begin the film at a street carnival, on The Boulevard of Crime. Not a real place of crime, but a nickname, a place of revelry, the county fair. The theatres on the boulevard were known for melodramas, crime dramas, plays about crime, and thus the street's nickname.
The Carnival. The bottom wrung of culture. A place of merriment.
A tightrope walker. High-steppers. A strongman. A monkey on stilts. A carousel. Jugglers. Tumblers. Acrobats. Truth, a woman in a tub.
A woman in a tub?
Arlety, our actress from yesterday, who played Dominique in The Visitors of the Night (1942) (076, March 17), here plays Garance, a red flower, soon to be the object of four men's love. The source of all the drama.
She makes her living sitting in a tub inside a tent, on The Boulevard of Crime. Men pay to step inside the tent to see her. They are promised a naked woman, but they get only her shoulders up.
This is the life of the performer?
Everyone has to start somewhere.
We meet our first suitor. He loves with his body.
If Garance has a humble job as a performer, Frederick begins below even her. He does not have a job. No outlet for performing. He is an actor with nothing but a dream.
Frederick goes to The Funambles Theatre. The Theatre for Tightrope Walkers. He stands outside the door. Asks to speak with the manager. The doorman asks him why. Because he wants a job. The doorman laughs at him. Next you will want your name on the marquee.
Frederick does not flinch.
Yes! I will have my name on the marquee. I will be one of the great actors. It is my . . . destiny.
Frederick longs to be a Shakespearean. He quotes Shakespeare. Refers to Othello frequently. Speaks quickly with multiple plays on words. Assumes poses and affects gestures. Enacts an enormous personality.
The doorman does not let him in, but no problem. He is now distracted anyway. Garance is walking up the Boulevard. He sees her. He must join her. He runs ahead of her, turns around, walks back, pretends to bump into her, tips his hat, apologizes, and begins a conversation. An obvious set-up but flawlessly executed.
She goes along with the flirtation, smiles, playfully rebuffs him. She is neither deceived nor offended but mildly flattered. He is doing what men do. It is OK. She appreciates it. He wants her to love him. She loves everybody.
Finally, she breaks away from him to go to her rendezvous. He watches her leave. He takes note. Then he moves on to the next pretty woman he sees walking down the Boulevard.
We meet our second suitor. He loves with his mind.
Pierre Francois Lacenaire is a professional writer. A poet. A writer for hire. He is also a thief. And he has killed a man. But he has not been caught. And he lives freely as a local citizen. He keeps a store on the street. Illiterate people pay him to write letters for him. A man is currently paying him to write a letter. Apologizing to his wife for beating her! Asking her forgiveness.
Avril walks in. He is Lacenaire's henchman. He has lifted silver for Lacenaire. Only it is not silver. It is sterling silver. Silverplate. Lacenaire points out his error. Throughout this movie things will not be what they seem. Everyone and everything is acting, even the cutlery.
Garance enters on her daily visit. Lacenaire loves her. In his way. With his mind. Not with his heart. He is a thinker. He is a dandy, and the curls of his dandified hair point to his cerebral forehead. She does not love him. But she likes him. She visits him daily because she enjoys his company.
Garance is a kind person. She likes people and she seeks to please the people she likes. She simply does not fall in love easily. Though men fall in love easily with her. And because of that, she breaks men's hearts. She does not mean to. She is a simple woman. She enjoys life. She wants them to enjoy life too. She wishes to enjoy their company and for them to enjoy hers.
Meanwhile, back on the Boulevard . . .
Garance and Lacenaire go for a walk. They arrive at an outdoor stage, back at The Funambles Theatre. A man, Debureau, is speaking to the crowd while his son Baptiste is seated, completely still. A mime. The character Pierrot.
Debureau, the man who is speaking, is in real life the actor Etienne Decroux. The father of corporeal mime. The real mime teacher of the actor, Jean-Louis Barrault, who is playing his son Baptiste. Etienne Decroux is also the real teacher of the international mime legend Marcel Marceau.
We meet our third suitor. He loves with his heart.
Baptiste sits completely still. Watch the movie and stare at him. He does not flinch. Watch his chest. It does not rise and fall as he breathes. He is completely still.
And in character. With intense energy. Alive.
As Garance and Lacenaire watch the pre-show and listen to Debureau speak, Lacenaire does what he does best. He commits a crime. He picks a pocket. He snatches the watch from a fat-man's vest. Then he leaves.
The man reaches for his watch and finds it missing. He sees Garance. He accuses her. He starts shouting. He creates a hubbub. The police arrive. The fat man points to Garance and they arrest her. On the spot. On his word. With no defense. With no Lacenaire anywhere in sight.
The mime speaks.
Just as the police are about to carry Garance away, Baptiste shouts. He saw it all. He is a witness.
The police ask him what he saw.
The mime goes silent.
He does not answer them with words, but he acts out the entire episode, creating with his body the character of Garance and creating with his body the character of the fat man and creating with his body the character of Lacenaire.
Do you get the picture?
It is outstanding.
The actor is playing an actor who is playing a mime who is miming three people.
In fact, throughout this film, each of the performers will perform, multiple times, and their performances will be mesmerizing.
The police let Garance go. She tosses a red flower to Baptiste and blows him a kiss. He picks up the red flower. He holds it lovingly. He falls in love with her.
Meanwhile, back inside The Funambles Theatre.
Jericho is a used-clothes peddler.
He comes up the stairs to the backstage. He wants to sell some clothes for wardrobe.
The theatre owner is exasperated.
His daughter, also an actress and mime, is in love with Baptiste. And intends to marry him. She is sad that he does not love her. It affects her performance.
Jericho reads her palm. A useful skill for a used-clothes peddler.
He tells her that she will marry the man she loves. And that she will be happy.
Hey, we're trying to make a sale here.
Enter Frederick. He has finally made it past that doorman. He is backstage. He sees a group of girls dressed as birds.
"What a charming playhouse. What a fine profession."
The girls laugh.
"It would be. If it fed us properly."
They hop away.
The theatre owner enters. He is exasperated.
"My theatre is torn by hatred and jealousy. We perform on a volcano."
He is searching for an analogy to describe the backstage feuding.
Frederick suggests the Montagues and the Capulets.
"Never heard of them," the theatre owner responds.
Frederick kindly offers that it is Shakespeare, from Romeo and . . .
Before he can answer, the theatre owner interrupts him.
"Never heard of him," he declares.
We told you this was a second-rate place.
In fact, the state controls performances. They recognize the official state theatre and allow them to speak there, but here the performers are not allowed to speak from the stage! They are fined if they do. Thus, the miming.
Frederick appeals to the theatre owner. Give me a job!
What do you want?
I want to act.
You've got the wrong theatre. We're not allowed to act here. We walk on our hands.
I can do that.
Actors are never deterred. They can do anything.
The theatre owner goes into a great discourse about the difference between the official state theatre, where dusty old tragedies are performed, and this one, where they may not be allowed to speak, but they produce life! Energy! Extravaganzas!
The play begins. The audience is packed. People fill the seats on the floor and all the box seats in all the balconies.
What is Paradise? The peanut gallery. The cheap seats. The top balcony. The nosebleed.
Who are the Children of Paradise? The young people who sit in the top balcony. Who can afford the cheap seats.
They are so high up that they are called in France the gods. The actors on the ground seek to please them.
Did you ever buy a rush ticket to the symphony or opera when you were in college?
We saw this same phenomenon when we watched The Red Shoes (1948) (023, January 23). It opens with the young people rushing to the rush seats in the top balcony.
There was also a famous toy store in Paris called Paradise of Children.
The crowd is rowdy. Bawdy. They demand entertainment. Bring on the lion!
The girls dressed as birds come out on stage. A man dressed as a lion comes out on stage. And another man.
The man dressed as a lion strikes the other man too hard.
The other man is offended. He starts a hubbub. A ruckus. On the stage. The audience loves it. Give us a fight.
The actors rush off the stage. They fight backstage. There is drama behind the drama. People take sides. The actor walks out. The other actor walks out. The audience is shouting. Refund!
The show must go on. But it cannot go on. The lead actor is gone.
The theatre owner is exasperated. Frederick offers to step in.
I do not know you. I do not know if you can act. I do not know if you can play a lion.
I can play a lion. I've done the whole lion repertoire. I've played nothing but lions. I've played the Gulf of Lions. The Constellation Leo. Richard the Lion-Hearted. Pygma-lion.
He sounds like Nick Bottom from A Midsummer Night's Dream.
Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that I will
do any man's heart good to hear me; I will roar,
that I will make the duke say 'Let him roar again,
let him roar again.'
He hears the audience yelling. He reasons with the owner, "The Christians are calling for a lion!"
This is good stuff.
Frederick puts on the lion costume.
And out he goes on stage to begin his career.
Meanwhile, they need a Pierrot. That actor left as well. Baptiste, the mime and son of a mime has been stuck outside, his father believing he is not ready yet to play properly inside the theatre.
He too will be called inside to launch his career.
How many careers have been made when someone took over for someone else? On what seemed to be a fluke?
The role is given to the one who wants it the most. To the one who is willing to go and get it. To the one who is physically present when needed.
The role is given to the one who shows up and does the work.
No matter what is going on behind the scenes.
Even if there is a fight. Even if he is insulted. Even if his heart is broken. No matter what.
He shows up.
He does his job.
He performs.
After the show, Baptiste goes backstage to Nathalie. He holds the red rose from the Red Rose Garance. He thinks of her. Nathalie appeals to him. She loves him. She herself is lovable.
But he is distracted. Caught up in a dream. He speaks always only the truth of his own feelings.
Nathalie knows that something is wrong, that he loves another. She loves him anyway.
The stage manager enters and sees the red rose and compliments Baptiste for the new prop.
Frederick and Baptiste go out for drinks. They celebrate their mutual theatrical debut.
Frederick the talker. Who dreams of saying great lines, speaking great words, while playing the great roles of the world. Julius Caesar, Charles the Bold, Attila the Hun, Henry IV, Ravaillac.
Baptiste the mime. Who dreams of playing great roles in silence, without words.
Frederick the great speech-giver speaking the immortal words of the Bard. Baptiste the great creator of gestures creating life and emotions with his body.
These men love the children of paradise, the common people. They relate to them. They are them.
Yet they dream of a day to come.
There is so much more to say about this film.
We have only set it up for you, describing just over half an hour of the three-plus hour film.
And we have not yet introduced the fourth suitor. He loves with his money.
All four of these men will pursue Garance in his own way.
Two of them, Frederick and Baptiste, will act together at The Funambles, and Garance will join them.
Along the way we will meet a blind seer, Jericho again, and other important characters.
We will see great performances and great moments of love and its pursuits.
Who will win Garance's heart?
Will any of them?
Will more than one of them?
Will only one of them?
Children of Paradise has been loved and celebrated now for generations.
Carné's previous film, yesterday's The Visitors of the Night, made so much money that he was able to make a great, grand, epic film with this one.
Its American advertising would call it the Gone with the Wind of France.
It is beautifully shot. It is well paced. It is grandly designed and cast. It is beautifully acted.
It is frequently ranked among the greatest of French films and among the greatest films of all time.
So many things are communicated about life and art and acting and love.
Frederick will have this conversation about acting--
"You practice a peculiar craft."
"The finest."
"No doubt. But you make hearts beat every night at the same hour."
"That's the beauty of it. It's dazzling. To feel and hear your heart and the heart of the audience beat at the same time."
Baptiste will have this to say about life versus dreaming--
"Why should there be a difference between my dreams and my life?"
He is determined to make his dreams become a reality. He is determined to make his dreams become his life.
Years will pass. The performers will find success.
Who will end up together? Who will move apart? Who will see each other again?
After all the years, someone will say to someone,
"I've never forgotten you. You were even in my dreams."
And we understand.
We understand.
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