Popular Culture ◆ A Lively Celebration of Ordinary People
Updated: 6 days ago
Chunichi Shimbun, Morning Edition, December 1, 2006
“Children of Paradise” (1945, France)
The theaters and boulevards are crowded with people. Street performers become stars, and love blossoms on the dance floor of a tavern… Set in nineteenth-century Paris, Marcel Carné’s timeless masterpiece Children of Paradise is not only a story of mature love but also a vibrant celebration of ordinary people.
The central story of this film, which runs for more than three hours, is the pure love between Baptiste, a mime artist played by Jean-Louis Barrault, and Garance, a female entertainer played by Arletty.
They are drawn to each other from the moment they meet. But Baptiste, still struggling at the bottom of the theatrical world, hesitates to spend the night with her, perhaps because he feels inferior to her. Later, unexpected rivals appear, and the two become entangled in a crime. Their love never reaches fulfillment, and each eventually takes another partner. Baptiste keeps his feelings hidden in his heart and devotes himself to perfecting his art. Through his extraordinary ability to express sorrow and longing without words, he eventually becomes a star performer. Garance, meanwhile, becomes a countess. Then, when they meet again five years later, they are finally united, carried away by their overwhelming passion. But their reunion lasts only for a single night.
The film portrays playwrights obsessed with preserving the traditions of Shakespearean theater as comic figures. It also satirizes the aristocratic culture of dueling and the police who curry favor with those in power. At the same time, however, it vividly portrays the poor but resilient ordinary people of Paris. They erupt in enthusiastic applause at the virtuoso performances of the mime, become swept up in the excitement of carnival night, and secretly cheer on their friends’ romances.
Paris was under German occupation when this film was made. The production is said to have been fraught with difficulties. I believe director Marcel Carné was expressing his pride in the popular culture of his homeland. Through Baptiste and Garance, who continue to hold each other in their hearts despite everything, perhaps he was also sending a message of encouragement to ordinary people living through wartime.
In Japan today, cinema, theater, music, and street performance all seem to have become increasingly detached from ordinary people. Calls to “have patriotism” have suddenly grown louder. Yet in a country that has failed to nurture a mature culture that ordinary people can genuinely take pride in, such rhetoric strikes me as dangerously rootless—like a plant without roots.
