LILI: Blu-ray (MGM, 1953) Warner Archive

Charles Walters’ Lili (1953) is an ‘interesting’ musical hybrid. ‘Interesting’, as – and despite its Oscar-winning song, it’s not really a musical, per say, but rather, hails from MGM’s ‘little gem’ class of original content, based on a Saturday Evening Post short story, ‘The Man Who Hated People’ by Paul Gallico (somewhat reworked and softened in Helen Deutsch’s screen adaptation), and, working with a star – Leslie Caron – who positively hated the genre in which she toiled. “Musicals are futile and silly,” Caron once exclaimed. Nevertheless, Caron (93-yrs.-young and still very much with us) could not have asked for a better pedigree in Hollywood, debuting, as she did, in two of the greatest movie musicals of all time – both, Academy Award-winning Best Pictures: 1951’s An American in Paris (1951) opposite Metro’s top dancer, Gene Kelly, who quickly became not only Caron’s mentor, but also her first American confidant, and, 1958’s Gigi – the final star in her movie musical crown. Lili is not in this hallowed league. But it does remain an exceptionally vivacious programmer in its own right.

The discipline Caron fostered, from her formal training as a ballerina with the prestigious Roland Petit Ballet des Champs Elysées in her native France, helped her navigate through the Hollywood labyrinth to become the unlikeliest of movie stars. And Lili was the result – a small in stature, but great in entertainment value – lithe and lovely vehicle to play to Caron’s own genuine naiveté, as yet not quite having had the bloom completely rubbed off. For her efforts, Caron received an Oscar nod, though not the win. The statuette has since continued to elude her.

Important to note, the source material for Lili is a real odd duck for the musical’s mélange. Although lighter in tone than the novel Gallico would eventually expand its premise and rechristen it as a novel, The Love of Seven Dolls. The Man Who Hated People is actually the tale of a fairly boorish, Svengali-esque puppeteer who treats his ingenue love interest, Milly, abominably.  The short story opens in a Manhattan television studio where Milly is making her farewell appearance on the Peter and Panda show, in which all of her costars are inanimate creatures operated by the same puppeteer, Crake Villeridge – a one-time aspiring French-Canadian hockey player, derailed by injury in his career aspirations. Villeridge is a bastard, who belittles and humiliates Milly, partly out of bitterness, but also from jealousy.  Nevertheless, Milly sticks with the show until Fred Archer, a man she does not love, but professes to, appears on the horizon. However, when Milly learns how Villeridge has used the puppets to explain the varying sides to his personality and love for her, Milly elects to remain at his side – hopelessly/desperately in love.

Love of Seven Dolls relocates the plot from New York to Paris, and begins with a young girl about to commit suicide by throwing herself into the Seine. Though edging towards a more mystical tone, the book is much darker in spirit, playing upon the gravity of superstitions and folklore.  The novel’s heroine is Mouche, the puppeteer - Michel Peyrot – a gutter rat, grown savage by hard times. For the film, Michel’s right hand, a Senegalese man named Golo in the book, becomes the good-humored Frenchman, Jacquot. Like the movie, the crux of the novel is centered on Mouche’s conviction she is actually able to interact with the inanimate puppets, thanks to her romantic infatuation with Michel. For Lili, the puppeteer is renamed, Paul Berthalet, a former ballet dancer, felled by injury, and, represented as a gruff, but unhappy figure, rather than menacing and cruel, as Michel is in the book.  The book inveigles Mouche with a handsome acrobat, Balotte/ the film, with Marc the magician. Eventually, Mouche realizes, despite his flaws, she loves Michel. It is a flawed reconciliation however, as Michel, although weeping at her confession, never warms as Paul does in the movie.

For Lili, MGM turned to the famous puppeteering company of Walton and O'Rourke, whose cabaret work was unsurpassed. Meanwhile, the studio’s resident composer, Bronislaw Kaper, began to craft an exquisite score, to include the Oscar-winning ditty, Hi-Lili, Hi-Lo (with lyrics by Helen Deutch) – warbled to the brink of enchantment by Caron and interpolated in various incarnations throughout the story. Plot wise, Deutch’s screenplay opens with the childlike Lili (Leslie Caron) arriving in a provincial town in search of a friend of her late father. A local shopkeeper offers her employment as a rather lascivious prelude to seduction. Mercifully, Lili is spared this fate by the dashing, though disreputable scamp and carnival magician, Marc (Jean-Pierre Aumont). At first, Marc’s intentions are as dishonorable towards Lili. However, when he learns the girl is only sixteen, rather magnanimously, he helps find her gainful employ as a waitress. Alas, Lili gets canned on her first night after an infatuation with Marc’s magic act leads to a neglect of her customers.

Afterward, Lili implores Marc for advice. But he cruelly orders her to go back home. Heartbroken, Lili contemplates suicide. Mercifully, puppeteer, Paul Berthalet (Mel Ferrer) plies himself as Lili’s stern mentor. Her engagement with his puppets endears Lili to Paul, his partner, Jacquot (Kurt Kasznar), and, the rest of the carnival troupe.  Lili joins Paul’s act and quickly becomes its most valuable asset. Paul is bitter over the loss of his former career as a dancer, due to a leg injury sustained in WWII. Although in love with Lili, he can only communicate his passion for her via his puppet interactions. Meanwhile, Lili daydreams about Marc, hoping he will replace his assistant, Rosalie (Zsa Zsa Gabor). Marc is offered a job at the local casino, and Rosalie reveals to all, she and Marc are husband and wife. A heartbroken Lili retires to her trailer where Marc, knowing of her love for him, attempts to seduce her. His plans are thwarted by Paul. But when Lili tries to follow Marc, Paul assaults her.

When a pair of impresarios, Mr. Corvier (Ralph Dumke) and Mr. Tonit (Wilton Graff) arrive from Paris, scouting Paul and Jacquot, they are informed by Jacquot, much to Paul’s chagrin, their offer needs further consideration. Afterward, Jacquot tells Paul that Lili has decided to leave the act. Once again, Paul uses his puppets in an attempt to implore Lili to remain. Only, this time, she rejects his polite offer and, shortly thereafter, suffers a hallucination in which she imagines the puppets as life-sized, confronting her decision. Lili dances with each puppet who is transformed in her dream into Paul. Realizing she loves Paul, and more importantly, he loves her, Lili returns to the carnival. The couple embrace and the puppets applaud.  

Lili possesses a rare magnetism, fueled by Leslie Caron’s fetching central performance. Mel Ferrer treads a fine line between a man of conviction, secretly pining to reenter his life after the one he hoped to lead has been cruelly denied, and, a man so embittered by life he would rather destroy the one good thing in it, merely to prove the point. He and Caron have a wonderfully antagonistic chemistry, eventually to stir the ingenue from her wide-eyed optimism, but also to shake loose the stardust of youth into a more sober outlook that has its virtues as well as its rewards. If the picture has a flaw, it is the penultimate puppet ballet; colorfully produced and artfully staged, but lent a rather cloying affirmation that dreams, no matter their vividness, are nevertheless destined to be sacrificed on the altar of reality. Given our jaded times, the bulk of Lili still holds up under even the most saccharine scrutiny. The success of it is owed almost exclusively to Caron’s timeless whimsy and the infectious bubbliness of that Kaper/Deutch title tune that, once heard, endlessly ricochets in memory. Hi-Lili, Hi-Lili, hi-lo…indeed!

Lili arrives on Blu-ray via the Warner Archive (WAC) and, predictably, it is a feast in vintage 3-strip Technicolor. For too many years, image quality on home video was careworn at best, with faded hues and age-related dirt and debris to cloud its integrity. But no more. WAC has ensured the utmost care with this deep catalog release. Colors are lurid. Flesh tones have been beautifully rendered. Contrast is ‘bang on’ perfect. A thin sheen of film grain augments the storytelling.  Wow! What a great looking disc! The 2.0 mono audio is, likewise, wonderfully rendered with crisp dialogue, showcasing the Bronislaw Kaper score and insanely hummable ‘song of love’ to its very best advantage. WAC seems to have dropped the ball on extras. Not even a featurette. We get 3 cartoons of varying popularity, and, an original (and extremely careworn) trailer. Hi-Lili, ho-hum. The beat goes on. Bottom line: Lili will cast her spell over even the most discerning realist. It’s a great little movie to share with the young as a reminder of how innocence lost can lead to new-found ways of reexamining the world and one’s place in it. The Blu is exceptional. Very highly recommended!

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

3.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

5+

EXTRAS

1