Mai sulla bocca

In my opinion, I didn't know that this was a musical comedy. The French make the best films around with character driven story lines. This film has a first rate cast but I didn't care for Lambert Wilson's performance as the American, Eric Thomson. I did love Isabelle Nanty as Arlette, the old maid. She was perfect and memorable. Arlette's sister, Gilberte, has a problem. She has three men in her life including her unsuspecting second husband who thinks he's her first, her first American husband, Eric Thomson, who comes to Paris on business, and a young male artist/teacher Charly who prefers older women. The film is first rate in art direction, costumes, music, casting, and writing. I felt Lambert Wilson was out of place and out of tune as the American. But still, this film has memorable characters and can cheer you right up.

Alain Resnais, like a lot of brilliant people, can be interesting even when he's not very entertaining. But in Not on the Lips, he's not even really that interesting.

I liked the way the movie began, with the cute credits and the opening shot with the women singing. At that point I had high hopes. As the empty-headed characters chattered, I thought perhaps this was an Oscar- Wilde/Noel Coward sort of thing that would mock the upper classes.

But as I watched further, I began to feel that instead, this was just a rather tedious trifle that has nothing to say. So I looked it up on wikipedia, which says it's an old operetta and that Resnais purposely made it as originally intended. Apparently that chatter was supposed to be interesting.

I rather liked the music, although it's disconcerting when the subtitles don't bother to rhyme (sometimes they do, sometimes not). It's got a nice look to it. But about a third of the way through I just couldn't see how I could stand anymore of this superficial claptrap, and I stopped watching.

Alain Resnais was extremely comfortable with opulence in 'Last Year at Marienbad', and Alain Robbe-Grillet felt right at home in this, with his serialized writing. I hadn't thought that much about this taste for luxury till I saw his 2003 film of Andre Barde's 1925 operetta, 'Pas Sur la Bouche.'

This is easily one of the lightest, most exquisite filmed musicals ever made, and quite as unexpected a thing as possible in this age. There are some modern aspects: the luxury is greater luxury than in the past, but does not ever seem like gluttony; it is not like an exhibition of 100 Burne-Jones paintings, for example, which was about the number in a 1999 exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum here--and that many at once makes one fairly sick.

All of the songs are charming, and even the one ugly one is (but only because it is only one; it is truly unpleasant to the ear and could have been styled better even with such meager material): this is the song that Eric Thomson (played by Lambert Wilson) sings with Arlette (Isabelle Nanty) when he is discovered to be doing business with George Valandray (Pierre Arditi) as well as being Valandray's wife Gilberte's (Sabine Azema) first husband (their American-produced marriage was not recognized upon her return to France, although her reasons for dissatisfaction with him are not made entirely clear). Thomson's French seems to have disappeared and he keeps responding to Arlette with "Whaddya say?" and "Whaddya know?" and this is irritating and does not even particularly form a purposeful dissonance with the rest of the graceful and casually elegant Parisian-style music. However, it is followed quickly by a group song when everyone is about to sit down to a "simple meal," which looks rather more as if composed by Escoffier or Pelleprat, and, very campily, Thomson's French reappears as if by magic as he joins all the French people in their tuneful paean to the repast they will consume (in silence, one wishes, but cannot hope for.) This "magical device" is subtle enough to be a considerable improvement over the "spontaneous" bursting into song by the wedding party at "I Say a Little Prayer for You" in 'My Best Friend's Wedding.'

The luscious orchestrations of the songs remind one of the Marguerite Monnot-Alexandre Breffort score for 'Irma La Douce'--as in "Dis-donc," and decades of this kind of sound at the Casino de Paris, at the Folies Bergere.

There is a lot of red, many plummy reds, in the lavish sets, but it is not discordant. One does notice that the film is almost entirely set in interiors, and the courtyard of witchlike (and sublimely hilarious) Mme. Foin (Darry Cowl) is about the only contact with a little remembrance of sky one sees; but this is usual for sex farce.

Everyone is involved with everyone, and it's so silly that only in the viewing does it have life; in the retelling it doesn't have a grain of substance, so I am not going to bother. The players are uniformly characterful and theatrical, and Sabine Azema is superlatively middle-aged-sexy and spirited, while Jalil Lespert has the biggest Frenchest face since Maurice Chevalier: He's truly a major talent. Audrey Tautou seems to be imitating Twiggy in 'the Boyfriend' sometimes, which is cool enough.

This is classic French farce, very theatrical with a 1920s score, entirely interior sets (best being the 3rd act bachelor pad) and ridiculous intertwining relationships. It is tempting to see it almost as an Amelie remake, complete with lush visuals and two leads from that film. It has the same romantic view of French life, the same emphasis on relationships, the same reliance on a sparkling performance by Tatou. It is slow, and hard to follow with subtitles - you really need to speak French to get much out of this (esp the excruiating accent of the American). Some interesting little touches - the spoken credits at the start (very Godardian!) and the way that characters leaving the stage just vanish. It is very witty, brittle and bright. A curiosity rather than a masterpiece.

Like several other reviewers I was taken to the film 'cold' without knowing anything about it, and after several minutes was expecting the somewhat lacklustre tunes and stock-farce characters to tip over into something edgy and contemporary. Mais non. However is this such a bad thing? Given the French predilection for unflinching realism and tragic endings, Pas Sur La Bouche can be enjoyed as a salute to the traditions of the Comedy Francaise, an expression of nationalist (anti-Brussels?) sentiment, and as a crafted product as lovingly detailed as a reproduction Deco sideboard. One is almost expected to read afterwards that Resnais had an ironic or iconoclastic subtext in mind, but the film seems to be charmingly irony-free throughout. There are no patronising modernist jabs at the shallowness of pre-war bourgeois entertainment, and in fact the period is recreated with a warm and sentimental glow. It can be argued in fact that the play has been not so much adapted for the screen as embalmed, for there are definite longueurs, the singing voices are almost uniformly mediocre, and the lack of varied or outdoor settings does detract. All in all, a charming, civilised and unexpected entertainment from one of the self-styled intellectuals of French cinema, and a brilliant recreation of an ensemble of now-forgotten French 'types'. To get an idea of precisely how far comedy has 'advanced' in 70 years, compare with Legally Blonde or My Best Friend's Wedding and you'll see my point.