52 Films by Women Vol 8. 30. Paradis Paris (Director: Marjane Satrapi)

Pictured: Make-up artist Badou (Gwendal Marimoutou) and stunt double Mike (Ben Aldridge) share a restive moment in a scene from co-writer-director Marjane Satrapi's ensemble comedy, 'Paradis Paris' ('Dear Paris'). Still courtesy of Studio Canal.

There is a mantra: ‘make every film as if it was your last’. I think Iranian émigré cartoonist turned director Marjane Satrapi took this to heart with her sixth feature film, Paradis Paris, a listless comedy set in Paris that captures a short period in the lives of mostly creative Parisians as well as that of a teenage girl who is a victim of social media. Focussing on death – or near-death – as a recurring theme, it plays like the work of someone creatively tired. ‘You want me to make a film. Sure. Now leave me alone.’ Satrapi appears briefly in the film as a director, exuding a ‘don’t bother me’ vibe. I think potential investors should take note.

The film it most reminded me of is To Rome with Love, Woody Allen’s 2012 note on a napkin to Italy’s most famous city, that focused on three concurrent stories with a typically all-star cast including Greta Gerwig, Jesse Eisenberg and Roberto Benigni. The difference is that Allen – at the time – could make a film a year. It did not matter whether they failed artistically or commercially; he was coasting on his 2011 surprise box-office hit Midnight in Paris. Satrapi hasn’t had the same sort of commercial success. She hasn’t found her ‘Western’ voice either. The one line to get a laugh, ‘there is an Iranian saying: if you can’t be rich, be stupid’ speaks to a desire from the audience to connect to Satrapi’s ‘story’, that of an Iranian woman coming to terms with life in the West knowing she can never go home or make a difference in her country of origin. Satrapi isn’t interested in this, rather in emulating Pedro Almodóvar. Rossy de Palma contributes a vivid cameo as a Colombian woman who follows a blast from her inhaler with a puff from her cigarette, a gag Satrapi repeats, because, you know, it works.

The film begins with André Dussollier as Edouard Emmard, the host of a programme describing Murders in the Île de France, outlining the grisly – and sometimes surprising - details associated with homicides. In one case, an individual pronounced dead was discovered to be alive in their coffin. In another, a girl who was abducted licked her surroundings so that the police could discover her DNA in proximity to her murderer. We then meet faded opera star, Giovanna Bianchi, who awakes in a coffin in an undertaker’s office, having been mistakenly pronounced dead; not quite, that’s just her career. Incredibly, the undertaker and Giovanna’s conductor husband, Rafael (Eduardo Noreiga) hear her, suggesting that sound proofing on coffins is not what it used to be. Giovanna is concerned by obituaries. The papers, except for Le Parisien, give her no coverage. Le Parisien shatters her. ‘It says I’m 60,’ she wails. ‘I’m 59.’ She requests an article to be published in Paris Match not only stating that she is alive, much to the delight of her adoring public, but that she will return to the stage. ‘You haven’t sung in almost fifteen years,’ Rafael reminds her, a clear indication that it isn’t going to happen. Giovanna tries, but she is more successful as an alcoholic.

Pictured: Xavier (Alex Lutz), the barman who cannot move on, five years after his wife's death, one of the man characters in the ensemble comedy, 'Paradis Paris', co-written and directed by Marjane Satrapi. Still courtesy of Studio Canal. 

The local bar patron, Xavier (Alex Lutz) has his own issue. He misses his wife, who died five years ago. He refuses to take off his wedding ring or remove her photograph from the bar and presses a ‘lemon espresso’, a drink his wife adored, onto his customers, including Edouard. It is of course an assault on flavour. However, it becomes a means by which he can move on.

During one of his shoots, Edouard is interrupted. A man wants to show him something. ‘Don’t worry,’ he says ominously, ‘It will be worth your while.’ It turns out to be a padded coffin, complete with oxygen supply. The man has taken Edouard’s programme to heart. He wants to be ready should he wake up in his coffin. He also wants to enjoy it while he’s near-dead.

The morgue employs a make-up artist, Badou (a shining Gwendal Marimoutou) who tries a little too hard to beautify corpses – fake eyelashes aren’t always appreciated on the deceased, or on the living either. He is fired but gets a job working on a film where a large group of extras flee down a flight of stairs. ‘Remember,’ says the assistant director. ‘No one must shine.’ He has a mantra. Those who work on films should have clean hands and their breath shouldn’t smell. He is impressed by Badou, checks his hands, smells his breath, and asks him to come back tomorrow. Badou’s job is work with the lead actor’s stunt double, Mike (Ben Aldridge) who arrives in Paris with his teenage son, Aidan (Roméo Grialou). Badou, mistakenly called Fred, falls for Mike, even though he is clearly heterosexual. Mike is more concerned by his son, who refuses to leave the hotel room. When he suggests that Aidan take a city bike and visit him at the set, the result is disastrous. ‘I’m lost, dad,’ Aidan whimpers over the phone, before there is the inevitable crash.

It is obvious that Satrapi is happiest capturing eccentricities – things she has observed on film sets. However, the most dramatic plot strand – a suicidal but sullen teenager, Marie-Cerise (Charline Emane), is kidnapped by a masked pervert while sitting on a bridge over the Seine but drives her attacker crazy with her non-stop talking – doesn’t fit this bill. It is the only strand that could have been expanded into a full feature, the pervert drawing blood but unable to pleasure himself as she tells her story, Marie-Cerise traumatised by the video made of her losing her virginity. The idea that a person will only open up to someone who has malign interest in their welfare brims with more possibilities than Satrapi and her co-screenwriter Marie Madinier (Arctic Heart) know what to do with. That said, Satrapi is careful not to make the scenes with the attacker in any way salacious. This is torture bore, not torture porn. For their part, Marie-Cerise’s parents engage the police in the form of Detective Jean Paul (Roschdy Zem, who can play this part in his sleep), another of Xavier’s customers.

Pictured: After being kidnapped, teenager Marie-Cerise (Charline Emane), finds the perfect therapist in a scene from the ensemble comedy, 'Paradis Paris', an ensemble comedy about death, near-death and second chances co-written and directed by Marjane Satrapi. Still courtesy of Studio Canal.

The weakest strand involves the Colombian’s granddaughter, who I took to be a relative of the conductor. She celebrates her fifteenth birthday which, in Colombia, is a big deal. Giovanna, contemplating a facelift, isn’t sure she will turn up.   It is Giovanna who provides the film with its big finish when she re-discovers her voice in unexpected circumstances.

The creative talent behind the film-within-a-film is amazingly tolerant of Mike’s disappearance after he pulls out of a big stunt – twice as it turns out. It is as if Satrapi were contractually obligated to present the French film industry as humane.

Edouard rounds the film off with an address to camera, basically telling us how to think about life. A series of aphorisms with no surprises. Who knew Satrapi could be so conventional?

There is no doubt that Satrapi is attuned to tiny details. She brings these to life more than her big themes. The warmth that she extends to her disparate group of characters is slightly at odds with her almost journalistic interest in behaviour. I wish Satrapi had devised a better vehicle for the contents of her notebooks. Paradis Paris didn’t spend much time in French cinemas after its release on 12 June 2024. It might not travel very far either.

 

Reviewed at München Film Festival, Hochschule für Fernsehen und Film, Arri Cinema screen, München, Sunday 7th July 2024, 21:00 screening