G | 1h 55min | Musical, Comedy | 1958
The year is 1900. Paris, the City of Love, is abuzz.
On Madame “Mamita” Alvarez’s (Hermione Gingold) instructions, her young but artless granddaughter Gigi (Leslie Caron) regularly visits her great-aunt Alicia (Isabel Jeans) to be groomed as a courtesan. Mamita and Alicia hope Gigi will follow the family tradition of women who become aristocratic gentlemen’s escorts. But Gigi’s too much of an irreverent tomboy to bother with etiquette and social graces; her learning is slow, and never steady. Gigi’s mother (offscreen) is a small-time stage actress, perpetually prepping her voice for the starring operatic role she never gets.
At first, Gaston and Gigi are no more than friends. They’re lonesome and bored out of their wits with endlessly having to conform to social expectations. Neither of them is in love, let alone with each other. But before they know it, Gigi’s grown out of her girlhood, and Gaston’s fed up with playing snooty socialite. Watching the youngsters, Alicia and Mamita finally spy a chance for romance, and hopefully love, to bloom between the two. But will things progress beyond the platonic?
Minnelli filmed several scenes at actual Parisian sites: the Bois du Boulogne, Maxim’s, and the Palais des Glaces. Costume Design and Art Direction crew drew on the repertoire of French artists to give shots an authentic feel, rendering Paris and Parisians characters by themselves. Jourdan and Chevalier sang their tracks, but Betty Wand dubbed Caron’s singing voice.
Bubbly, Like Champagne
Gigi can’t imagine a better way to spend an afternoon than besting Gaston at a card game. Gaston can’t imagine a more entertaining way of spending an evening than hearing Gigi jabber on; to him, she bubbles with a zest for life in a way that’s livelier than his choicest champagne. She’s bored of climbing the social ladder, and he’s tired of being at the top. They enjoy each other’s company because it’s devoid of the airs and artifice they see elsewhere. The songs “The Parisians” and “It’s a Bore” smilingly capture this restlessness. Gigi finds the idea of romancing shallow and uninteresting. She prefers something deeper with enduring value. Gaston is similarly restless. Only, he doesn’t yet know why.
Minelli rarely zooms in to a medium close-up, let alone a true close-up shot. That robs some dramatic scenes of much-needed intimacy. You don’t get to see Caron, Jourdan, or Gingold emoting as much as you’d expect to in a feature film.
Incredibly, Jeans defies the lack of intimacy, sparkling even in distant shots as her Alicia teaches Gigi never to flop into a chair, but to insinuate herself, never to jump out of it but to ascend, and never to gulp wine but to sip. Likewise, Chevalier—watch him light up the screen in the opening song, “Thank Heaven for Little Girls.”
Perhaps Minnelli worked so hard on costume and art design, both unfailingly gorgeous, that he missed the target on shot selection. The camera is often too far back, instead of up close. It depicts many scenes like a stage play or a portrait. No matter how stunning, the characters remain too undeveloped for a feature film.
The songs are engaging and enchanting in turn, but the track “Gigi,” part of Gaston’s extended soliloquy, is a masterpiece. In his mind’s eye, he suddenly stumbles upon Gigi the beautiful woman hidden within Gigi the playful girl. Vexed at himself for not seeing her for what she’s become, he wonders, “Have I been standing up too close, or back too far?”
Lerner’s music and Loewe’s lyrics, despite Gaston’s (and Minnelli’s) dilemma of distance, tell an entire story within those magical five minutes, as the scales fall from Gaston’s eyes.
