There are, as you might expect, a few laugh-out loud moments. The singing of Dumont (of which, thankfully, there's not actually a great deal) is suitably atrocious, and the moment when a formerly distinguished tenor, approached to coach the lady for her public debut, first hears her, is absolutely priceless. But there's much less blatant comedy than might be supposed, instead it's mostly a study of characters - most of whom leave something to be desired.
Giannoli's film also takes a turn for the melodramatic at the end, which I thought a pity, but it has left me with one persistant thought. Is it truly possible to appreciate something without understanding it in the least? And, vice versa, is it possible to completely understand something without learning to appreciate it? I don't want to use the term "love" in this context, one wanders too easily into stalker territory there - they think they both understand and appreciate the subject of their obsession, when in fact they do neither - and I can't equate Marguerite's devotion to her "art" with that degree of delusion, because she does, in fact, appear to have some understanding of music. If that is so, however, how is it possible she cannot hear her own vocal defects? Perhaps Stephen Frears's study of the original FFJ will provide some answers that Giannoli did not.
[Next : No change, 11th October]
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