Milou en mai

Took this out of the Louis Malle box without paying too much attention and was not aware of the date, or that the title translated to 'May Fools'. So once the family are back at their country house after the death of their mother and the background news is of the '68 Paris riots, I'm assuming this is a vaguely contemporary film. But no, as becomes increasingly obvious this is 20 years on and a look back at those 'mad' country folk with more money than sense. It is an engaging but slight film with a rather pretentious element that gets i the way of the slight humour and vague attempts at political insight. Piccoli is great as ever and Miou-Miou as lovely as ever. Worth a watch but probably only one.

I wonder why it is not better known? You would think it would be, it is a beautiful movie, maybe not among Malle's very best, but certainly very good. There's a bittersweet feeling and it is also quite funny, as when the sisters are fighting over which one the mother wanted to leave her jewelry to.

Michel Piccoli is one of my favorite actors, and all the other parts are well done too.

Plus, the setting and photography are so beautiful. Somewhere in the Gers I think. When Milou is walking through the vines with his elderly foreman, I drool.

Just the sort of small, beautiful, mellow, not too elaborate country house and vineyard I want for myself when I win the Loterie Nationale!

Erm... I feel a little embarrassed; I can't join in the praise for this film, which I found too long and too unfocused. Louis Malle seems to have thought that just following Michel Piccoli around the estate as he tends to the bees and catches crabs, among other duties, while Stéphane Grappelli plays his winsome harmonica was enough to keep us engrossed. The real story is what was going on in Paris and other large cities in May 1968 (it was quite dramatic, as I recall from my safe haven in North America).

The story is flimsy: Milou and his brother Georges along with Milou's daughter Camille and Georges's children Claire and Pierre-Alain gather to attend the funeral of Mme. Vieuzac and distribute the family goods. Claire and Camille have a lively argument about the heritage, which disturbs Milou. His life has been so tranquil up to now...

The actors are let loose to give us a succession of star moments. Piccoli has his scene with the crabs, Miou-Miou her dalliance with the lawyer (superb François Berléand), Bruno Carette shows up midway as the lusty truck driver, Paulette Dubost is included as a tribute to the generation of Renoir and Carné. Finally Dominique Blanc as Georges's lesbian daughter has the best moments: she plays a Debussy piece ferociously as she watches her girlfriend flirting with Pierre-Alain. You can practically see the smoke pouring out of the piano. She also tantalizes the trucker--and us--with her bare breasts.

I don't know which director did the best account of the events of 68; possibly Wexler with his Medium Cool. Malle has not carried us back to those frenzied days, but has given us a series of vignettes as a way to show off the talents of his cast.

It's easy to understand why the late Louis Malle was such a respected filmmaker after seeing this comedy of manners, inspired (again) by the director's own childhood memories. The film begins when a grandmother's death in the spring of 1968 reunites three generations of family at a country estate in southern France. But their mingled grief and affection is soon overshadowed by news of the student riots in faraway Paris, and their already fragile bourgeois equilibrium is unbalanced by the distant echoes of uninhibited anarchy. The parallels between the family crisis and the world at large are obvious, but rarely has a corpse lying in state been surrounded by so much activity: private longings, public declarations, old resentments and new romances are all given sudden priority over preparations for the old woman's burial. Consistently graceful, often surprising, the film is an affectionate valentine from Malle to the extended family of his youth, and a gift to discriminating movie audiences during a long, dry summer.

This is a movie about the romantic awakening of an open-minded, freckle-faced ingénue named ... hold on, Milou turns out to be a gentle and wizened giant of a man, played by Michel Piccoli, who has apparently learned to live with an inappropriately cute nickname. He is living on his mother's country estate, and generally enjoying the decelerated life of landed gentry. Then his mother dies and his siblings descend on the mansion, threatening his casual existence (or maybe just questioning Milou's privilege of doing FA for a living). At the same time, the riots of 1968 are unfolding in far-away Paris.

The small group represent the different attitudes of French society at the time, we have the idealistic student who is overly anxious to see the arrival of a new world order, alongside the bourgeois reactionary who is somewhat less enthusiastic about horde of bearded baba cools putting up barricades, a housemaid who just wants to get her share of the inheritance, as well as a woman who feels impelled to take her top off for some reason. At one point, the group flee into the woods, and return the next morning. Somehow, the biggest bourgeois of all, Milou, is untouched by the quarrels around him and ends up continuing to live his placid mansion life, seemingly because he is so quaint and affable.

This movie had a few good ideas and moments, but it kind of runs out of ideas and plot after the family is assembled and their individual positions are established. In the end it's more or less a showcase for Michel Piccoli.