Paris 36

PARIS 36 is a wonderful film, which I think rare among pictures whose charm rests upon major assumptions about their audiences. PARIS 36, you see, assumes that you love Paris. I can’t think of a safer bet. If you’re alive, you love Paris. Even if you’ve never been to Paris, you love Paris - you just don’t know it yet.

So, what happens in PARIS 36? Well, young gamins sing and play the accordion along the banks of the Seine, the cathedral of Notre Dame in the background. Lovers meet on rooftops, where the city glitters below them and the Eiffel Tower shines in the distance. Evildoers skulk in alleyways, true friends stand together, and love conquers all. Oh, and there’s a show. Of course, it must go on.

For PARIS 36 is a show picture, a movie about theater people and the romances and dangers of their lives. Its production numbers, even its disastrous production numbers, burst with a love for performance and an exuberance that lifts the heart. It’s exciting, and fun, and everything a night out at the show can promise.

I loved it. I loved its vistas even as I saw them for the scenery they were. I loved its people and its songs and its enthusiastic embrace of all things Life. I particularly loved how it made me fall in love with Paris all over again.

See this movie.