Quand j'étais chanteur

After seeing the trailer I didn't expect to enjoy this movie. Lesson: don't judge a movie by its trailer.

Although it is a fairly corny affair, the setting is an unusual one, the performances and production values are high, and the script unexpectedly funny.

However, without a star of considerable magnitude the entire soufflé would fall flat. Fortunately the great Depardieu is on hand, his giant presence matched by his lightness of touch. It's curious how the old American lions - de Niro, Pacino and the others - don't seem to be able to both play their image while sending it up at the same time: they only manage one thing or the other. In this modest movie, Depardieu is both himself and something of a parody of himself. The result is two-for-the-price-of-one enjoyment.

The songs he sings - very well - are all genuine French pop songs which themselves border on self-parody, in the way that so many country-and western songs do - a seam of humour richly mined by Altman in Nashville. There's nothing so subtle here: Quand J'Etais Chanteur is so loosely woven that close scrutiny would unravel it. But for all that, it's surprisingly enjoyable.

In a rather disappointing fortnight, „Quand J'étais Chanteur" was the nicest discovery at the Cannes film festival: a simple story, beautifully told and acted. A middle-aged, overweight and worn-out ballroom singer (Gérard Depardieu, in his best role since "Cyrano de Bergerac" in 1990) falls in love with a tormented woman half his age. And although both know that more than a brief affair is almost impossible, there's is a chemistry between them that has become rare in movies. The unknown director Xavier Giannoli displays a phenomenal sense for atmosphere and is clever enough not to spell everything out. You might actually feel that you can breathe more freely during this movie - and certainly afterwards. Merveilleux!

We watched this lovely film on TV last night and both of us enjoyed it tremendously. I judge films by how memorable they are; even good films that are appreciated at the time disappear in my, admittedly, porous memory but this film for some reason cemented itself in my memory immediately. I admit that I enjoy films about male/female relations or the lack thereof if that is the case; the French are the planet's masters of this examination of the human condition and they do it very well. The Singer is an examination of that most sensitive of times in relationships: the period of discovery, before people understand what is happening to them, whether there is enough glue to hold this tentative relationship together. I thought that the director knew exactly what he wanted his actors to do and their professionalism allowed them to play these most sensitive of roles so well.

As you can imagine there are no huge points of realization or transcendence in this beautifully played out examination: nothing that we have been led to expect from Hollywood, just quiet, introspective searching and waiting to see if the puzzle pieces fall into place as the singer hopes they will. As you can see, the movie is an examination of these two people very tentatively feeling each other out to see if they have a future. The viewer's joy is watching this endearing and gentle examination. I found the movie a tremendous viewing experience but very tentative, very gentle and very knowing.

'Quand j'étais chanteur' (or 'The Singer') is a lovely, funny, bittersweet film which gives Gérard Depardieu an excellent leading role as cynical, arrogant, washed-up singer Alain Moreau, who sings love tunes for middle-aged lady dancers who adore him. He meanwhile searches for love and finds something akin to it in the person of damaged, deep, prickly Marion (Cécile De France), many years his junior and out of his league.

Depardieu, even approaching his sixties, brings a mix of bravado, charm, and vulnerability to the character of Moreau. Sometimes you can see where he is coming from, sometimes you sympathise, sometimes you laugh, sometimes you are irritated - a well rounded character, believable, and just that little bit broken from a lost chance to rebuild a marriage, the idea that he just might be a nicer guy than the ladykiller he has become.

With Mathieu Amalric as Bruno, friend, estate agent, adversary, and Christine Citti as Michèle, former wife and backing singer, muse and manager, 'The Singer' is an intimate portrait of where life can take you if you just stop and let it. It does not shy away from poignancy and the ubiquitous happy ending, but on the way it makes its creations real and their problems and preoccupations realistic.

The songs, incidentally, are sung by Depardieu and although the lyrics may be lacking in style (certainly in their translation), the delivery and ambiance proves there may well be life in the old dog yet, making it understandable why Moreau has become the obsession and fixation of lonely single, divorced, or widowed women. But under the gloss and the stagecraft is someone just as lonely, just as envious of the passing of time, and this is the ultimate strength of the film, making that obvious.

In Xavior Giannoli's film, an ageing lounge singer (a magnificently ramshackle Gerard Depardieu) seduces a pretty young woman; and then falls in love with her. She quite likes him, but with the gap in their ages, it's unlikely that either can be a long-term solution to the problems of the other. He then gets a chance to revitalise his career; and doesn't take it. I spent most of this film wondering when something was going to happen; in fact, almost nothing does, beyond what is predicted by the premise. Although there is sexual contact, the film can be thought of as a French equivalent of 'Lost in Translation', although without that film's annoying sense of self-reverence and faux-profundity. It makes good use of the singer's repertoire which serves as both soundtrack and commentary, the performances are nicely judged, and at the end, in spite of the absence of obvious content, I found myself oddly moved.