French Cancan

The story is simple but the execution is marvelous. A Belle Epoque impresario, down on his financial luck, is going to open a new club, the Moulin Rouge, with a new dance, the French cancan. He encounters a working girl and makes her a dancer. She'll become a star. There are several crises to overcome before that happens.

The movie is Jean Renoir's tribute to show business, and he puts it on the screen with color, verve, humor, and humanity. There are wonderful performances by all the actors. The leads are Jean Gabin as Henri Danglard, the impresario; Francoise Arnoul as Nini, the girl who'll become a star; and Maria Felix as Lola de Castro, an overwhelmingly tempestuous beauty and Danglard's lover at the start. Gabin exudes confidence, worldly humor and dedication to show business. He even dances a bit. Arnoul is first rate, too. It looks like she was doing her own dances, and as an actress think of a young Leslie Caron with brains and charm.

The climax of the movie is the opening of the club, with Felix's star dance, comic songs, a whistler, a Danglar-discovered singer, all moving toward the introduction of the French cancan. The crises happen and are resolved. Then the cancan explodes. Dancing girls come bursting out from the stage, the front of the theater, through posters, down ropes from the balcony. The house swirls with the black tie and tails of the swells and the garish colors of the dancers' gowns. The cancan number lasts probably ten or fifteen minutes or so, all music and gaiety, all high kicks and splits. It's amazing when row after row of the dancers, moving toward the camera through the audience, leap up, legs extended straight forward and backward, backs arched, then land on the dance floor in full splits. I didn't know whether to shout or wince.

The last scene of the movie is outside the club, shot from the cobblestone street looking at the entrance. It's a medium shot and from the side street a happy, inebriated fellow in black tie and top hat staggers across, pauses to tip his hat at the camera, then staggers off. A completely charming ending.

This really is a marvelous movie.

I would give this evocation of the early Moulin Rouge a high rating for the final fifteen minutes alone, a dazzling recreation of what might have been the riotous presentation of the French Cancan during the Belle Epoque, all color and noise and organized mayhem.

This is an old-fashioned film about a theatrical entrepreneur who turns working girls into stars--one at a time. Likable roué Jean Gabin plays Danglar with great aplomb, and having worked in the theatre myself, recognize the fine backstage moment in the film where the creator does not hurry to see his final creation; it is a quiet, subtle moment, and like much in the film, can be lost in the build-up to the opening of France's most famous dance hall; the color is mint Technicolor, the acting spot on, and, while old-fashioned, the film is a lovely evocation of an imagined past.

A charmingly amoral club owner sets his sights — amorous and financial — on a beautiful, naïve blue collar girl and propels her to the height of celebrity thanks to her titillating dance skills.

It may sound like a contemporary, cutting edge urban drama, but French Cancan was made in 1956 by famed director Jean Renoir. The movie — a darkish comedy with a progressive take on sexuality — chronicles the birth of the Moulin Rouge. Legendary Jean Gabin plays Danglard, a world-weary hustler, club owner and anti-hero for the ages, who makes no pretense of his philandering and amorous proclivities. He's casting about for a new lover and a new money making venture when his current club fails and he grows bored with his mistress. He discovers a beautiful young washer girl, Nini, whom he convinces to headline at his new "concept" club, the Moulin Rouge, making it a hot spot and her a celebrity before the doors even open.

It doesn't hurt that Nini's moody ex-lover — a sullen baker (le petit grump) — injures Danglard in a fight and an even moodier Russian count becomes suicidal because Nini spurns his advances. As the salacious headlines drive up public interest, they learn the club will feature the cancan in all it's thigh-revealing, petticoat-flashing, bawdy glory — a disreputable dance to begin with now fallen completely out of favor.

The movie is a riot with memorable characters, beautiful, dizzying club and dance scenes, a few titillating moments that must have pushed the limits 60 years ago and swooning French girls forever throwing themselves desperately into and out of the arms of their lovers. You almost forget that it's a musical, so seamlessly are the musical and dance scenes integrated into the plot.

Danglard's gangly side kick is hilarious as is the whistler. Most delightful of all was seeing and hearing the divine Edith Piaf on screen after listening in awe to her songs all these years.

The movie is best enjoyed with absinthe in honor of the absinthe consumed on screen — as fate would have it, we had some delightful Oregon-made absinthe that night — or lots of champagne.

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This is my favorite Renoir from the Fifties. It's the story of how Henri Danglard built and launched the Moulin Rouge nightclub; we see the workmen blasting at the site to get construction underway, and the training of the dancers. Finally, the giddiness of opening night and the long sequence of cancan dancing. Financial problems and the ego displays of the performers are described.

Gabin is in great form as the easy-going Danglard--see him deal humorously with Nini's violent boyfriend. Gianni Esposito is moving as the wistful Prince who is courting Nini. Maria Felix, with that amazon's body, is imposing as the egotistical Lola, Danglard's first lover. Finally Françoise Arnoul as Nini the washing girl who ends up dancing for Danglard, and becoming his girl, is just stunning; her loveliness and pert charm will win you over.

A bonus: we get Edith Piaf, Patachou, André Claveau and other stars in cameos playing the stars of a century ago who ruled over the Moulin rouge.

Portrait of a time. portrait of a legend. seductive for the genius of Jean Renoir. and for the inspired performances. and, sure, for the nostalgia of the viewer. an admirable Jean Gabin and a great embroidery of love stories, show world, rivalries and triumph. optimistic, romantic. and refreshing. and that does to it a special status. like refuge, splendid show, fairy tale and confession of a lost age.