Gainsbourg: A Heroic Life: Struggles With Formula
Original poster image for Gainsbourg: A Heroic Life.
Given these strictures, writer/director Joann Sfar approaches his subject (French singer/songwriter/libertine Serge Gainsbourg) with a decidedly different approach. Gainsbourg (vie héroïque), currently showing at the Harvard Exit, is distinguished visually by Sfar's background as a comic book artist; as a writer, what he brings to the table are 1) a decision to tell Gainsboug's story subjectively, in order to explain the man through his own eyes; and 2) an attenuated journey through the highs and lows that the Celebrity Biopic recipe demands.
This last decision is easily understandable when one considers that the details of Gainsbourg's life are at least passingly familiar to a French audience, in the same way American audiences are vaguely aware of Michael Jackson's life and times; perhaps even more so, as Gainsbourg's moments in the spotlight, both positive and negative, were very public in nature. As a result, Sfar is able to cherry pick the moments in the man's life he wants to present, and as long as he's engaged in bringing these across imaginatively, Gainsbourg is an eccentric delight.
Consider the way the filmmaker establishes the motivation for his subject's infamous libidinous worldview: It's the opening sequence of the movie, we are on a beach, and a young Lucien Gainsbourg (Kacey Mottet Klein) is playing around with a young female friend. He asks, "can I put your hand in mine?" She replies, "no, you're too ugly."
Just like that, we're given a part of the necessary context to understand the coming developments, which are further cemented by the visual and thematic flourishes Sfar mentioned previously. As we follow the young Gainsbourg through war-torn, Nazi-occupied Paris, we are introduced to The Head and The Mug (the latter played by regular Guillermo Del Toro player Doug Jones) by way of a pivotal animated sequence which establish the subtle self-hatred behind his later actions, and the rebellious response to the societal challenges and condescension he faced throughout his life. The move adds a Terry Gilliam-esque touch to the proceedings.
These flourishes are used liberally during Gainsbourg's ascendancy to pop music celebrity; as long as The Mug's insouciance has an influence of the proceedings, Gainsbourg can do no wrong; all of his excesses are accepted in the world of the movie and every artistic decision he makes comes with a reward (at the same time, small hints of the repercussions these actions leave are able to make an impression). This makes for an exceedingly giddy rise to the top, and Sfar's faith in his approach pays off as he contextualizes the moments behind a large number of his early hits.
Appropriately, the climax of this portion of the film is his collaboration with Brigitte Bardot (Laetitia Casta); a sequence filled with the luxurious sensuality the two shared. When their affair is exposed and their respective worlds come crashing down, we dive headlong into the negative half of the Biopic formula and the wheels come off of the venture. This isn't simply a matter of going down with our hero, literally all the joy and sense of discovery and redeeming qualities of the mans life just leaves the film, which is rough considering that there's at least an hour more of movie to go. Considering the amount of control displayed in the presentation so far, one can only surmise that this decision was deliberate, and one's enjoyment of the rest of the movie depends on how much they have identified with Eric Elmosnino's charismatic turn in the lead.
This dramatic shift in tone could be pinpointed to the moment Gainsbourg decides to settle in with Jane Birkin (Lucy Gordon), something that's depicted as his decision to leave behind his devil-may-care lifestyle and actually develop a caring relationship. It doesn't last, and the same moves that used to occur without consequences suddenly gain tremendous gravity, creating a very visible mess for him to trudge through. This leads to an imbalance in presentation, as the same lack of an emotional center that made the rise so enjoyable now makes the fall utterly insufferable.
The movie loses contact with The Mug, and it also stops trying to contextualize Gainsbourg's music, which is a shame, as some of Gainsbourg's more experimental tracks were recorded in the years between his albums with Birkin and his death; and so the soundtrack seems heavily tilted toward his early music and the scope of the man's musical achievements aren't represented in the film.
Imperfect as the movie is, there's a lot to be said for its audaciousness in presentation. One gets the sense that the only reason things get as bleak as they do is due to the filmmaker's assumed obligation to meet the Celebrity Biopic beats. It is unfortunate that the jittery way the ups and downs are shown leads to such a center-less experience, but the sequences, in and of themselves, make their subjective impressions felt.
But then again, the movie did win three César Award (for best Actor, best Debut by a Director and best Sound Design). Maybe something was lost in the jump across the pond, who knows? As it stands, Sfar's movie is notable for its prismatic effect in telling the story of one of French music's most outrageous figures.
