by Julian Wood
Worth: $14.00
FilmInk rates movies out of $20 — the score indicates the amount we believe a ticket to the movie to be worth
Cast:
Tahar Rahim, Bastien Bouillon, Marie-Julie Baup
Intro:
Rahim gives a very solid performance here, which holds the film together, and he clearly can actually sing and play a bit.
The biopic is a pretty standard genre, and that itself can be a challenge for a filmmaker working within its conventions and limitations. For some, it means laying out most of a life, which for a subject who has had a very long career can be a challenge. Then, there is the need to convey something of what made that person special, trying to balance the public achievements with the private life (the latter often presented as having elements of inner turmoil). And all of this has to transcend mere hagiography or a flat documentary-style sequential recounting of the highpoints. All of the above applies to Mehdi Idir and Grand Corps Malade’s (yes, that is his professional name) Monsieur Aznavour.
Certainly, the performance by Tahar Rahim (A Prophet) is both committed and, as far as one can tell, accurate. Aznavour became a fixture in the French music and cultural scene in the latter part of the 20th Century, perhaps on a par with his one-time mentor Edith Piaf, who features here in a typically perky portrayal by Marie-Julie Baup.
Aznavour’s heyday was in the 1950s and that locates him more in the tradition of balladeer or jazz crooner rather than rock idol. This datedness, as it were, is addressed in one slightly awkward scene which has Charles – now an established legend – having a brief meeting with Johnny Hallyday, a French Elvis-type who represents the rock and roll era that will partly sideline the older man.
The film is told, more or less, chronologically. This avoids endless flashback, and it trundles along at a steady pace. We see young Charles born into an immigrant Armenian family, who make it to France when he is a little boy. Once there, he battles with a bit of bullying and, being both a non-native speaker and a person of smaller stature, he cops it a bit. All this, the film suggests, toughens him up and makes him more determined to succeed. If it wasn’t the case, then presumably he would have blazed and faded quickly. The other trope is the hollowness of success, especially when held against ‘what really matters’ (family, love – you know, all that stuff) when you are left alone with your thoughts. A big white Rolls Royce and a delightful house can never be enough apparently. To his credit, Charles keeps on plugging away at the old song writing and mostly succeeds in not succumbing to rich boy malaise.
As noted, Rahim gives a very solid performance here, which holds the film together, and he clearly can actually sing and play a bit. Part of the problem for today’s audiences might be that Aznavour is not exactly a household name as he is/was in France. Still, there are enough incidental pleasures for this solid effort for non-fans to glimpse what made him endure.
