La Vie En Rose

La Vie en Rose is a magnificently realized depiction of the complicated and often tragic life of French singer Edith Piaf. It opens in the middle of her life and then returns to her childhood, continuing in couplets detailing the past of her youth and the present of her final years and playing catch up scene by scene until the two timelines merge together and ultimately evolve into a swirl of memories recapping her life with no concern for forming a clear chain of events. If there’s a critique for this film it’s in its ambiguous, atmospheric delivery which makes the point by point events of Piaf’s life a little unclear but also rescues it from the doldrums of the often stiff biopic genre. It’s an involving, intriguing smattering of memories that play beautifully when coupled with Piaf’s “Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien” (“No Regrets”) which serves as the film’s final musical testament to Piaf’s remarkable talents.

The music in the film primarily uses Piaf’s own captivating voice, a respectable choice given its capacity to instantaneously convince the audience of her greatness. Actress Marion Cotillard, who made an unremarkable English language film debut with last year’s hideous Ridley Scott fluff piece A Good Year, does much more than merely lip-sync to Piaf’s voice, though. She gives one of the most miraculously complete performances of this or any other year. She plays Piaf from her young years as a street singer through to her death as a world renowned performer and the physicality of her performance playing Edith in each different generation is so dramatically different and utterly convincing that I thought for more than half the film the part was being played by two different women. There’s some help from makeup and other cosmetics to sell us on the age acceleration, but primarily the magic comes from Cotillard’s masterful use of her face and posture to satisfyingly play the same woman over the course of many years. It’s a feat as striking as any in acting to disappear utterly and completely into a character and Cotillard is honestly unrecognizable here. She accentuates her dark soulful eyes and applies Piaf’s penciled on eyebrows with such natural, unaffected simplicity that it’s as though Piaf were playing the part herself. It doesn’t for a minute feel like an actress giving a wonderful performance. It feels like you’re watching the genuine article. I dare anyone to find a single frame of falseness in Cotillard’s work here. Piaf’s many quirks, her joy and rage, all emerge so naturally from Cotillard. It’s a wonder to behold. To call it “Oscar-worthy” seems a bit too pedestrian a measurement. It goes beyond entitlement to accolades. It’s pure artistry.

The film truly thrives on Cotillard to elevate it into greatness. As a narrative it can be sloppy and sometimes stutters on its own never ending stream of sad tales to tell. I’ve hardly ever seen a biopic that couldn’t have used some more decisive editing and this one is no exception. That being said, it’s still a thrilling, heartbreaking look at a very fascinating woman. It revives Piaf’s music and legacy by paying tribute to her without overselling her glory. Behind the staggering voice was a little woman with prickly habits and ample eccentricities. Her voice is the film’s muse but her flaws are it’s truest material. The movie is an elegant tribute to her musical gifts, but also a low key, warts and all exposé on her life offstage. Together the two sides form a splendid portrait of the late great Piaf without overstating her importance or her misfortune.

Grade: A-