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TIME: Almanac 1990s
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<text id=92TT2728>
<title>
Dec. 07, 1992: Reviews:Theater
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1992
Dec. 07, 1992 Can Russia Escape Its Past?
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
REVIEWS, Page 71
THEATER
Vive le Moviemaking!
</hdr><body>
<p>By William A. Henry III
</p>
<qt>
<l>TITLE: CHILDREN OF PARADISE: SHOOTING A DREAM</l>
<l>AUTHOR: Steven Epp, Felicity Jones, Dominique Serrand</l>
<l>and Paul Walsh</l>
<l>WHERE: Theatre De La Jeune Lune, Minneapolis, Minnesota</l>
</qt>
<p> THE BOTTOM LINE: The story behind the making of a screen
masterpiece proves poignant and gripping onstage.
</p>
<p> When Germany invaded his country, the choices confronting
French director Marcel Carne were stark: he could stay and make
movies as though nothing were happening and be accused of
collaborating, or he could flee to someplace where he could not
speak the language well enough to create. Carne stayed. The
chief result, Les Enfants du Paradis (1945), is a splendid
sentimental tribute to 19th century populist theater, and to the
acrobats, clowns, pantomimists and courtesans who created a
street life to counter the staid classicism of the Comedie
Francaise.
</p>
<p> The film may have looked escapist at the time. But its
central themes--the conflicting claims of loyalty, ambition
and love, the psychic links between the artist-outsider and the
outlaw, the irrational constraints imposed on performers by
aesthetic dunces in high places--had immediate relevance for
Carne and his colleagues. Now a wonderfully imaginative troupe
of French origin, settled for more than a decade in Minneapolis,
has found the melodrama surrounding the making of the movie just
as rich a wellspring.
</p>
<p> Children of Paradise: Shooting the Dream is an intricately
layered celebration of the street shows Carne admired, a
re-enactment of much of his movie, a backstage soap opera about
his colleagues, a moral assessment of the choices they faced and
a paean to their enduring impact. It starts by hemming
spectators into the lobby of the Theatre de la Jeune Lune's
gorgeous new $3 million home, where they are jostled by
pickpockets and a woman on stilts during a raucous raree, full
of the horseplay and menace of Carne's "street of many murders."
Once the action moves inside, there is more striking symbolism.
In one nearly metaphysical moment, an actor playing part of the
film's crew ponders a tiny model of the set while nearby a
half-size version is used for exteriors as a full-sized one
awaits interior scenes.
</p>
<p> The initial aura of mystery fades, but the story--of a
studio abandoned as the puppet government sags toward collapse,
of company members mysteriously beaten or sacked or just
disappearing, of a leading lady sentenced to death for
consorting with a German officer--is fascinating and mainly
factual.
</p>
<p> It triumphs over mediocre acting. In a cast of 23, the
only strong playing comes from Dominique Serrand (also the
play's director and coauthor) as Carne, coauthor Felicity Jones
as leading lady Arletty and set designer Vincent Gracieux as
screenwriter Jacques Prevert. Their brainchild is one of the
foremost efforts this year on any U.S. regional stage. By a
marvel of foresight, it will live further as the first-ever
"import" into Yale Repertory Theater's season just after the
Minneapolis run ends on Jan. 9.
</p>
</body></article>
</text>