"Paris 36" a nostalgic tour through friendship in pre-WWII France

The snow falls like magic pixie dust in "Paris 36," Christophe Barratier's irresistibly old-fashioned musical story of a few friends, an old theater and a time when all that mattered was song, dance and a little revolution — in that order. Realism rarely intrudes into this story, and that's how you have to watch it: as a nostalgic bonbon, and one that'll charm you if you let it.

Pigoil (Gérard Jugnot), Milou (Clovis Cornillac) and Jacky (Kad Merad) are three friends who worked together at the Chansonia, a music hall that has just closed down as the story begins in the early summer of 1936. Determined to take control of their lives, they decide to occupy the theater and stage a hit musical to raise money. (How do you say in French, "Hey, let's put on a show!"?) Cue the arrival of ingénue Douce (lovely newcomer Nora Arnezeder), whose velvety curls and sweetly breathy singing voice signal star quality. (How do you say in French, "Kid, I'm gonna make you a star!"?)

And before we know it, there's the musical — an insanely bright, vast spectacle, complete with Busby Berkeley umbrellas waving — and it does lift everyone up, at least for a moment, in that way that musicals do. Elsewhere, politics intrude just a bit (fascism and socialism clash, even in this amber-hued movie); Pigoil has some sweet moments with his young son (Maxence Perrin, from Barratier's previous film "Les Choristes"); and the film's obligatory young lovers are so beautiful they seem dropped from the heavens. Through it all, a mysterious older gentleman known as Monsieur TSF (Pierre Richard, who has a haunting, quiet sadness), confined to his home, listens to his tinny radio, letting the jazz that pours from it flavor the movie — until his role in the story is finally revealed.

All this unfolds prettily, particularly in a final scene outside the theater with sparkling snowflakes wafting. "Paris 36" is perhaps overlong for what it is, and it's certainly feather-light, but it gives its watcher an uncomplicated pleasure; like looking through a faded scrapbook, filled with memories once bright.

Moira Macdonald: 206-464-2725

or mmacdonald@

seattletimes.com