Grove Koger
April 11 is the anniversary of the death of Jacques Prévert, who died in 1977. If you recognize his name, it may be because City Lights published a translation of his poetry collection Paroles in its “Pocket Poets” series in 1966. Or you may recognize him as the screenwriter for the films Quai des Brumes (Port of Shadows) and Les Enfants du Paradis (Children of Paradise). In both cases, the director was Marcel Carné, and in the latter, the pair created what’s regarded as one of France’s (and the world’s) greatest movies.
As Prévert explained in an interview printed in the Classic Film Scripts edition of Children, the paradise (paradis) of the title is a reference to the “cheapest seats in the theatre, the worst, the furthest away from the stage, for the ‘people.’”
The film chronicles the intersecting lives of five disparate characters in the Paris of the 1830s—the beautiful courtesan Garance (played by actress Arletty) and the four men pursuing her, including Baptiste Deburau, a mime (played by Jean-Louis Barrault) at the Théâtre des Funambules. Deburau’s infatuation with Garance is the heart of the film, but the courtesan’s other admirers—the mediocre actor Frédérick Lemaître, the arrogant aristocrat Édouard de Montray, and the elegant and equally arrogant criminal Pierre-François Lacenaire—form a kind of knot that Lacenaire, who has been insulted by de Montray, finally cuts in a dramatically Gordian manner.
Children of Paradise is divided into two sections—“The Street of Many Murders” and “The Man in White”—and in its unedited version runs to more than three hours. The Classic Film Scripts edition also includes scenes that never made it to the screen.
It’s nearly impossible to talk about Children of Paradise without mentioning the incredible story behind its filming. It was shot in 1943 and -44, during the German occupation, and its sets had to be moved between Nice and Paris because its designer (Alexandre Trauner) and composer (Joseph Kosma) were Jewish and were constantly in hiding. The main set was damaged during a storm, and a number of the movie’s German extras, hired out of legal necessity, had no idea that they were working alongside other extras who were Resistance fighters by night. Ironically enough (or perhaps not), Arletty was found guilty of treason after the war due to her romantic involvement with a Luftwaffe officer and was sentenced to a period of house arrest.
Children of Paradise is a film in the grand manner, but I can imagine an even grander one in which a master director creates a second film devoted to the creation of the first, perhaps told from Arletty’s point of view, and manages to fold the two stories, old and new, into an enormous collage—a glorious tribute to the counterpoint of art and life. I’m willing to give the idea away, and all I ask in return is an acknowledgement in the credits—and, at the premiere, a seat in paradis.
If you’d like to subscribe to World Enough, enter your email address below:
And if you’ve enjoyed today’s post, please share!
World Enough 