Review of La Vie en Rose (2007) by Mike M — 06 Mar 2009

This may be the Jake LaMotta of female parts, predicated on Cotillard's uncanny ability to bury herself under Piaf's unhealthily pallid skin, or at least the carapace of make-up required to transform one of the European cinema's most gorgeous and glowing actresses into someone who sometimes beared a marked resemblance to Krusty the Clown.

Still, too much of that performance is itself concealed (betrayed, even) by layer upon layer of flashback... the film is so cluttered with incident, so essentially disorganised, as for no one moment to register any more strongly than any other.

The biopic cliche is put over with chutzpah and old-school showbiz nous, not to mention a certain amount of soap. It's just a fair bit of Dahan's film looks to have been conceived, and especially edited, in a state of blind panic, as though Cotillard alone - emoting with all her heart and soul, even if she does have to Milli Vanilli her way through the songs - had worked out how to pay full tribute to Piaf within two and a half hours.