Cast: Philippe Maron, Edouard Joubeaud, Laurent Monnier, Brigitte de Villepoix, Daniel Dublet
Director: Agnes Varda
Screenplay: Agnes Varda based on the memoirs of Jacques Demy
Cinematography: Patrick Blossier, Agnès Godard, Georges Strouvé
Music: Joanna Bruzdowicz
U.S. Distributor: Sony Pictures Classics
In French with English subtitles
Jacquot is a tribute from one lover to another, a project that started out as a collaboration but became both an homage and a means of saying farewell.
French film maker Jacques Demy (who is best known for his surreal, often-offbeat musicals) died in October 1990, when production of Jacquot was nearing an end. A filmed chronicle of Demy's childhood memoirs put together by Agnes Varda, his companion of more than thirty years, Jacquot(the title refers to the young Jacques' nickname) is a look at how the influences of youth steer a man's creative spirit. During the course of the film, we meet Demy and his friends and family, see his love for the cinema, and observe his first attempts at creating.
Jacquot succeeds in engaging the intellect, but is less effective in touching the emotions. Despite the detail and care with which Demy's memories have been committed to film, there is a quality about them that distances the audience. We understand his desires, needs, and the everyday difficulties of his life, but little about this film is stirring. For all that the story is about Jacquot, there's a question of how much of the inner person we get to know.
The most intriguing and enjoyable parts of the movie are, by far, those that deal with the young Demy's early forays into movie-making. A fair amount of time is spent chronicling the development of a couple of animated shorts that Jacquot shows to his family in a home-made theater. In these scenes, we are given a peek at the creative genius of Demy, and it is through them that Jacquot attains its goal.
It's always difficult to film someone else's memories without either missing the mark entirely or waxing nostalgic. Jacquot falls into both traps at times, even as it occasionally hits the mark. Some of the most historically important incidents, such as the Nazi occupation of France and the subsequent bombing raids, fail to bring out the horror and fear that Demy must have felt. The truest moments are often those that seem almost thrown in as an afterthought.
Writer/director Varda uses color to supplement the normal black-and-white in which Jacquot is presented. Several scenes explode to life in a vivid display of hues, accenting a particular emotion or highlighting a scene. For the most part, it's an effective technique, although one that is possibly overused. Also in color are numerous clips from Demy's films. The inclusion of these works well, showing how incidents from the man's real life impacted the movies he was to make.
The acting is solid from top to bottom, with the three young actors who play the growing Jacquot (Philippe Maron, Edouard Joubeaud, and Laurent Monnier) giving consistent performances that make for a smooth transition from one to the next. The occasional appearances of the real Jacques Demy on-screen lends Jacquot a bittersweet quality. In some ways, the scenes with him, lovingly filmed by Varda, are the most moving of the picture.
The sense of period in Jacquot is excellent, from the streets and countryside of World War Two France to the garage and attic of the Demy house. As mentioned, detail is crucial to this movie and, at least in rolling back the years, such obvious care brings dividends.
Even for those who, like me, have never seen anything by Demy, the depiction of the relationship between his memories and work is a source of fascination The clips from eleven films help immeasurably in this respect, yet even without them, there are enough moments in Jacquot to warrant a look from those who don't lose patience with this kind of simple, relaxed style.
© 1993 James Berardinelli