The delightful new French comedy-drama “The Musicians” (“Les Musiciens”) opens with a shot deep inside the sound box of a Stradivarius violin. It’s the perfect way to begin a movie about a string quartet. Their instruments are transports to bliss.
That bliss arrives eventually, but the journey is fraught. The disparate musicians have been assembled by Astrid (Valérie Donzelli), who manages the corporate empire of her late father, a tycoon and arts philanthropist. His final wish was to mount a one-time concert showcasing a neoclassical piece he commissioned featuring four Stradivarius-toting masters.
This would likely be the first and perhaps only time the four players will ever perform together. George (Mathieu Spinosi), the first violinist, is the firebrand of the group, with the biggest ego. Second violinist Peter (Daniel Garlitsky), who is blind, is a more equable type. Lise (Marie Vialle), the cellist, has a rocky romantic and professional history with Peter, and has not spoken to him in years. Apolline (Emma Ravier), the violist, is the youngest in the quartet, and the most commercially successful. She has 700,000 internet followers, not exactly a badge of honor in this otherwise old-school assemblage. George, for one, refuses to take a selfie with her.
Why We Wrote This
Documentaries are often where notable celebrations of classical music are found. But, our film critic says, those are now joined by “The Musicians,” a French comedy-drama about a reluctant string quartet that crescendos with “the unifying joy that great music-making can inspire.”
Astrid has tirelessly corralled this A Team but, with so many egos in the mix, getting them to work together harmoniously is another story. Fortunately, she’s an expert, if frazzled, cajoler. She even manages to get the spiky, reclusive Charlie Beaumont (Frédéric Pierrot), the composer of the commissioned piece, to show up at her family’s country estate and supervise the weeklong rehearsals before the concert is broadcast. (The actual composer of the intricate, mellifluent piece is Grégoire Hetzel).
The performers playing the musicians were all chosen because, besides being good actors, they are also real-life virtuosi. The authenticity sought by the director and co-screenwriter, Grégory Magne, could be achieved in no other way. The various rehearsals are shot with an intimacy that makes each one stand out. We unobtrusively observe how these players, as they perform, finally harmonize their contrasting styles.
Some of the interpersonal issues occasionally come across as soapy, especially the spats between George and Apolline. He resents that she achieved stardom without the prominent music academy training of the other artists. The implication is that she got to where she is because of her youth and her looks. Apolline may embrace the social media aspects of her career but George’s belittlement rankles her. She knows she is deservedly acclaimed. In time, he admits she’s the real deal. He says, “You have a beautiful soul and that’s what music is all about.”
Music-making in this film is also, of course, a metaphor for the ways in which any headstrong ensemble is apt to coalesce. But what makes this movie special is that its metaphorical aspect isn’t paramount. The film is bound together by its unabashed celebration of music, and not only classical music. (There’s a wonderful moment when the group suddenly breaks into a bluegrass song.) It’s a celebration that transcends personal animosities. We saw this dynamic at work in some of the Bob Dylan-Joan Baez concert scenes in “A Complete Unknown,” and, to even greater effect, in the musical moments between Tom Basden and Carey Mulligan in the wonderful “The Ballad of Wallis Island.”
But few films have dealt specifically with classical music in this way. Some of the best, like Ethan Hawke’s documentary “Seymour: An Introduction,” about the pianist and teacher Seymour Bernstein; “Speak the Music,” the documentary about Robert Mann, a founding member of the Juilliard String Quartet; and “High Fidelity,” about the Guarneri String Quartet, are too little known. “The Musicians,” in its own fictionalized way, is worthy of this company. Modest in scope, it ultimately conveys, at its best, the unifying joy that great music-making can inspire.
Peter Rainer is the Monitor’s film critic. “The Musicians” is not rated. It is in French with English subtitles.
