The artistic-collective known as Le Theatre du Compagnol had its first big hit with 'Le Bal' in 1981 which put it on the map and with financing from the Ministry of Culture enabled it to rehabilitate the disused swimming pool in which it had performed since its creation by Jean-Claude Penchenat in 1975.
The challenge of bringing this to the screen has been embraced by Ettore Scola with his customary technical polish and utilises the versatile actor/dancers from the original production. He is aided immeasurably by the characterful choreography of M. D'Déé, the mobile camera of Ricardo Aronovich and the music, both original and arranged, by Vladimir Kosma.
One critic has unkindly dismissed the film as 'an inert mass of pop history clichés'. 'Inert' this film decidedly is not and reminds us that popular music, although varying in quality, provides not only a soundtrack to our lives but also reflects the times in which we live.
Scola's belief that 'the flow of History lies with ordinary people' undoubtedly drew him to this material and although a film of this length which covers fifty years of French social history through the medium of Dance is bound to have a few longueurs, there are some magical, poignant, bittersweet and genuinely amusing moments. Scola has gone for caricature rather than character but it is never spiteful and one feels that had he not died a year before its release a certain Jacques Tati would have enjoyed it immensely. The first and final scenes are the most impressive whilst the film is topped and tailed by Kosma's stunning arrangement of the classic chanson 'J'attendrai'.
In its depiction of the need for physical contact and the search for Love this film calls to mind Shaw's observation that 'dancing is the perpendicular expression of a horizontal desire'.
One has never seen a film quite like this and given the lamentable state of current cinema one is hardly likely to.
The challenge of bringing this to the screen has been embraced by Ettore Scola with his customary technical polish and utilises the versatile actor/dancers from the original production. He is aided immeasurably by the characterful choreography of M. D'Déé, the mobile camera of Ricardo Aronovich and the music, both original and arranged, by Vladimir Kosma.
One critic has unkindly dismissed the film as 'an inert mass of pop history clichés'. 'Inert' this film decidedly is not and reminds us that popular music, although varying in quality, provides not only a soundtrack to our lives but also reflects the times in which we live.
Scola's belief that 'the flow of History lies with ordinary people' undoubtedly drew him to this material and although a film of this length which covers fifty years of French social history through the medium of Dance is bound to have a few longueurs, there are some magical, poignant, bittersweet and genuinely amusing moments. Scola has gone for caricature rather than character but it is never spiteful and one feels that had he not died a year before its release a certain Jacques Tati would have enjoyed it immensely. The first and final scenes are the most impressive whilst the film is topped and tailed by Kosma's stunning arrangement of the classic chanson 'J'attendrai'.
In its depiction of the need for physical contact and the search for Love this film calls to mind Shaw's observation that 'dancing is the perpendicular expression of a horizontal desire'.
One has never seen a film quite like this and given the lamentable state of current cinema one is hardly likely to.