Zouzou

Zouzou is a very much substandard French film from the thirties, with a flimsy and unengaging story, a completely unnecessary murder subplot that is introduced (presumably for suspense) and then dealt with offscreen in about 60 seconds, and ends weakly and unconvincingly, with a whimper not a bang.

But it is a landmark movie in other ways, most obviously in the treatment of race, here being depicted by black American ex-pat Josephine Baker. It's amazing to reflect that back at home she would have had to drink from a separate water fountain and sit at the back of the bus for another thirty years after this was made, whereas here in Paris she is loved and applauded and treated like an equal by every single person she meets, everywhere she goes. It's almost like an alternate celluloid history of the 1930s, and a very refreshing one at that.

Another way it differs is in the frank depictions of nudity, which go further than even the pre-code films of Hollywood at the time would have done. Both these factors ensured it never got an approved release back in the States.

Baker is entertaining throughout, if unconvincing in the emotional scenes, and the young Jean Gabin, who is always good, adds weight and character to his too-undernourished role. It culminates in a couple of big Busby Berkeley-like musical numbers with some enormously oversized sets (a bed, a birdcage, etc). The songs aren't particularly memorable, but then watching a musical with subtitles is never going to be the best way to experience it.

It's not a very good film, but it is a likeable one, and a deeper, more positive cut of history than we are used to seeing today.