Their mother, Yvonne (Danielle Darrieux), runs a café-cum-creperie and is still pining for the dashing man who left her years ago. Meanwhile, across town, a traveling American painter named Maxence (Jacques Perrin) has painted the portrait of his ideal woman—not knowing she lives just down the street. And a wily, cynical musical instrument seller named Simon Dame (Michel Piccoli) tries to play matchmaker, all while a murder subplot (yes, a murder subplot) involving a mysterious stranger (Gene Kelly!) lurks in the background.
Critics in 1967 were divided. Some found Kelly’s presence jarring—a slab of American beefsteak in a delicate French soufflé. But viewed today, his role is the film’s thesis statement. Demy isn’t just making a French musical; he is arguing that joy is a universal language. When Kelly dances with Dorléac on a soundstage designed to look like a traveling carnival, the artifice is the point. They are not in Rochefort; they are in the shared dream of cinema. No discussion of The Young Girls of Rochefort is complete without confronting the tragedy of Françoise Dorléac. The elder sister of Deneuve, Dorléac had a feral, chaotic energy that balanced Deneuve’s glacial perfection. In the scene where Solange sings “Chanson des Jumelles” (“Song of the Twins”), the two women circle a tiny apartment like planets locked in orbit. Their harmonies are tight, but their eyes tell different stories: Deneuve’s longing for safety, Dorléac’s longing for chaos. The Young Girls of Rochefort -1967- Criterion -...
By: Senior Film Critic