Try to overlook the heinous title; this film by Coline Serreau is a stylishly done puff pastry that has a feel-good, modern fairy-tale aura reminiscent of those Capra pictures in which little guys take on big business baddies and triumph. Romuald (Daniel Auteuil) is the CEO of a powerhouse
Paris yogurt factory. His job barely leaves him enough time to spend with his wife and children. Juliette (Firmine Richard) is the woman who cleans his office at night. She lives with her five children in a small, cramped apartment and struggles to make ends meet and to keep the kids on the right
path. Although Romuald is unaware of it, his company is rife with internecine conspiracies, largely the work of two executives whom he has passed over for promotion. A shipment of yogurt is contaminated, the firm is on the brink of disaster, and Romuald is the victim of malevolently manipulated
circumstances. His enemies have not counted on Juliette, however, who, in the course of emptying wastebaskets and clearing desks, really uncovers the dirt. Taking matters into her capable hands, she saves her boss and eventually becomes the unwilling recipient of his sudden romantic interest.
Serreau's last film, THREE MEN AND A CRADLE (remade in the US as THREE MEN AND A BABY), was a hugely successful bit of calculated Gallic yuppie whimsy, the shenanigans of its three ultra-puckish bachelors and endlessly incontinent infant having all the freshness of curdled milk. Like that film,
MAMA is set in an unreal, Disneyesque world, but its interracial romance and the down-to-earth grittiness of Juliette's side of the story give it much-needed weight. Significantly, the property has already been optioned for development by US producers, and it's telling that Hollywood has to look
to Europe to find scripts containing intelligent roles for African-Americans.
Jean-Noel Ferragut's photography here has a pleasing, deep-toned look that undercuts the glossy plot developments, and Serreau keeps things spinning so fast the improbabilities barely have time to register. The evocative music the film employs is also a real boon: Memphis Slim, T. Bone Walker, and
Duke Ellington's "On the Sunny Side of the Street" spice up the farcical action, and wonderful, bluesy guitar work by Stevie Ray Vaughn underscores the darker moments.
It is always satisfying when tables are turned and an underling controls the destinies of mandarins, and in MAMA, Serreau's leading lady, Richard, makes this reversal particularly enjoyable. In her film debut, Richard is a majestic wonder of natural poise and charismatic authority. Her
Antilles-accented French registers soothingly, and she brings an authenticity to her role that no amount of formal training could impart. Her Juliette is the unscarred veteran of five marriages, and the birthday party she throws for her children and their fathers is a genuine "bright" spot,
replete with tropical colors and lively music. Romuald, who has been blithely piggish in his condescending acceptance of her help, overhears her charming refusal of one of her ex-husbands' entreaties, and later spies Juliette sleeping in the nude. She has the opulent sensuality of a Matisse
odalisque, and Romuald's adoration of her is palpable. Auteuil also is appealing in what is becoming his specialty: the frantic Everyman, Jack Lemmon sans neutering tics. The playing-out of the romance between Romuald and Juliette is overextended, however, complete with an insistently cheerful
wedding scene. Regrettably, the pat, perfect sealing of so many characters' fates--happy families as far as the eye can see--becomes cloying. (Adult situations, nudity.) leave a comment
