“Marguerite” a Bittersweet Comedy About a Talentless Singer with Money to Burn
By Skip Sheffield
Musical talent is a mysterious thing. Some people are born
with it. Others can spend a lifetime trying to develop it and still fail.
Such is the dilemma of “Marguerite,” a bittersweet French
comedy about a wealthy but talentless woman who aspires to be an opera singer.
Writer-director Xavier Giannoli based his script loosely on
the real-life Florence Foster Jenkins, who was a wealthy American socialite who
fancied herself a great singer. Because she paid all the bills, no one had the
nerve to say what they really thought.
Giannoli has transported the character and story to Paris,
1920. The name Marguerite Dumont (Catherine Frot) may be a sly reference to
American comic actress Margaret Dumont, who was the favorite comic foil of the
Marx Brothers comedies.
Marguerite lives on a large estate outside the city, with a
full staff and an all-purpose butler named Madelbos (Denis Mpunga), who knows
more about Marguerite’s quirks than anyone.
Marguerite’s husband Georges (Andre Marcon) puts up with his
wife’s delusions because his business is failing and she foots all the bills.
The only singing Marguerite does is in practice and before a private music club
before fellow socialites. The club members quietly laugh behind Marguerite’s
back as she sings off-key, off-tempo, and with mangled pronunciation.
It takes a certain talent to sing as badly as Marguerite and
keep a straight face. Catherine Frot has that talent. She worked previously in
2006 with co-star Andre Marcon in another music-themed movie, “The
Page-Turner.” As a matter of fact Frot is downright poignant when her
character, at the urging of a cynical music critic (Sylvain Dieuaide), decides
to book a theater, hire an orchestra and put on a public performance.
Contrasting with Marguerite is a beautiful young woman named
Hazel (Christa Theret), who has an equally beautiful voice and real talent. For
pure comic relief there is Michel Fau as foppish, washed-up opera singer Atos
Pezzini, who for a handsome sum agrees to be Marguerite’s vocal coach.
There is nothing sadder than a delusional character who does
not recognize her own delusions. That’s where the bitter part of bittersweet
comes in. It helps to have a passing knowledge of famous opera arias to chuckle
at how badly Marguerite bungles classics. It is a rueful chuckle. Anyone who
has ever done some performing has run into such delusional characters. Like
Marguerite’s fictional friends, it is hard to break the bad news, so we just
grin and bear it.