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May 08, 2025 Web Exclusive By Kaveh Jalinous Photography by The Criterion Collection

Last year, in what very well may be one of the best filmgoing experiences of my life, I had the opportunity to catch the new restoration of Jacques Demy’s The Umbrellas of Cherbourg at Bologna’s Il Cinema Ritrovato film festival. The film was introduced by La La Land director Damien Chazelle, who perfectly captured what makes Demy’s film so magical, and one of the best films ever made.

In his opening speech, Chazelle explained that the musical film was “exhibit A of cinema as the synthesis of all the arts,” a film whose elements—principally, music, dance and poetry—exist so tightly bound to one another that you couldn’t separate them, even if you wanted to. This idea sums up Demy’s film perfectly. Years after first seeing the film, I can’t hear any of the songs without perfectly imagining the visuals that accompany them; I can’t even think about the film without seeing the striking blues, pinks and yellows that define its color palette. It’s a film whose emotions are relayed not only through the its story, but its style as well. For that, and for so many other reasons, it’s practically impossible not to love.

A staple of French cinema, The Umbrellas of Cherbourg follows two young lovers, Guy (Nino Castelnuovo) and Geneviève (Catherine Deneuve), whose entire existences are defined by their longing for one another. Guy works at the town’s auto shop and lives with his ill aunt; Geneviève works at an umbrella store owned by overbearing mother, Madame Émery (Anne Vernon). Madame Émery isn’t supportive of her daughter’s relationship—Guy doesn’t come from money and has few aspirations (his dream is to open a gas station in their home city of Cherbourg). The couple’s perfect relationship is quickly tested when Guy is drafted and sent to fight in the Algerian War.

Few films are able to immerse you into a story and setting as instantly as The Umbrellas of Cherbourg can. From the film’s opening sequence, following Guy singing to his co-workers about how excited he is to go to the opera with Geneviève that evening, you know exactly what you’re in for. Unlike even many film musicals, every line in the film is sung, every piece of dialogue is put to a melody composed by the French legend Michel Legrand. After watching the film for mere minutes, it’s almost impossible to understand how the characters couldn’t be singing all the time. Demy’s Cherbourg is a utopian cornucopia of pastel colors; the movements of its inhabitants are so meticulously choreographed that everything and everyone operate in perfect harmony with one another. It’s a town too perfect to seem real, powerfully reflecting the idealized nature of Guy’s and Geneviève’s hopeful, youth-stricken love.

The film’s frenetic, on-its-toes pacing is one of its strongest attributes, quickly moving you from one element of the story (and from one emotion) to the next without so much as a moment of pause, rest or silence. Even as the film’s story takes one turn after another, it’s impossible to feel like Demy is never not fully in control of the film’s form and narrative. Even smaller details, like the way both Geneviève’s coat and Guy’s bike are yellow during the first scene in which they interact, feel specific and pertinent to the story. After all, yellow represents youth and joy, two qualities tested throughout the film as the characters must deal with the cold, cruel and unforgiving nature of reality.

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg’s three part structure—“The Departure,” “The Absence,” and “The Return”—provide yet another interesting lens into Guy’s and Geneviève’s relationship. In the film’s opening act, we almost exclusively see the two characters together, which quickly showcases the extent of their love and desire for one another. In the second part, we never see Guy; his character is recalled exclusively through the ways Geneviève longs for his presence. Even so, as the amount of time they spend apart increases, Geneviève is forced to confront the fact that time (and life) never stop for anyone—everything just keeps moving forward. During the final act, the story is relayed through Guy’s perspective, as he slowly reaches the same conclusion. This structure further reinforces the juxtaposition between visual idealism and narrative realism that drives the entire film. As the story becomes more emotionally complicated, the colors become more somber as well.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the Criterion Collection’s re-release of the film is excellent. The 4K digital restoration looks absolutely stunning, and the film’s upgraded 4K UHD edition further brings Demy’s signature style to life. The release also includes a documentary on the making of the film and several interviews (which feature Demy, Deneuve and Legrand, among others). For fans of Demy (regardless of if you already own Criterion’s excellent Jacques Demy boxset), French cinema fanatics or anyone interested in seeing how auteurs can fuse narrative and style in unexpected (and unforgettable) ways, The Umbrellas of Cherbourg is worth adding to your collection.

(www.criterion.com/films/27933-the-umbrellas-of-cherbourg)