In spite of its nine nods, Days of Glory was another sentimental favorite that failed to receive much love from French Academy members. The war drama won only one César — for best original screenplay (Rachid Bouchareb and Olivier Lorelle). Days of Glory, about North African soldiers who fought for France during World War II, is up for a best foreign-language film Oscar. In addition, the war drama won an ensemble best actor award at last year's Cannes Film Festival.
Karl Zéro and Michel Royer's Dans la peau de Jacques Chirac / Inside the Skin of Jacques Chirac, a mockumentary about the opportunistic French president and his four-decade political life, became the first documentary feature to win a César in the newly created category.
Best supporting actor Kad Merad (for Je vais bien, ne t'en fais pas / Don't Worry, I'm Fine) found himself incapable of getting off the stage. Each time it looked like his barrage of thank-yous and reminiscences was coming to an end, he'd take a breath and go on spitting out another endless stream of names.
Another odd César moment was the announcement of the best supporting actress award, with the evening's maîtresse de cérémonie herself, Valérie Lemercier, as one of the five nominees. Lemercier saved herself from a potentially embarrassing situation by winning the trophy for her hilarious turn as a manic-depressive actress in Avenue Montaigne. She claimed she had a good joke in store in case the award had gone to somebody else, and then went on to her thank-yous — while this César watcher wondered if her role as César hostess had somehow influenced the vote.
(Apparently not. I later found out that Lemercier also acted as hostess last year but lost the best actress award to Nathalie Baye, while best actor nominee Gad Elmaleh hosted the ceremony in 2004 only to see the César go to Omar Sharif.)
Lemercier's 2007 victory was her second. She had previously won in the supporting actress category for the 1993 comedy Les Visiteurs / The Visitors. For the record: This year's best supporting actress losers were Christine Citti, veterans Bernadette Lafont and Mylène Demongeot, and Lemercier's fellow Avenue Montaigne player (and veteran singer) Dani.
Jude Law's Honorary César was another oddity, though through no fault of the actor. Had they so wished, the French Academy's board of governors could surely have found someone with a more solid — and considerably more extensive — body of work. Olivia de Havilland, for one, has been living in Paris for decades and to this day remains César-less.
Law, however, behaved like a gentleman, making his acceptance speech — while reading from a piece of paper — in French. (At the 1992 ceremony, Sylvester Stallone was much less courteous, accepting his César d'Honneur without even bothering to say "thank you" in the language of his hosts. But then again, that's what you get when you give an honorary award to someone whose body of work consisted of a series of dumb boxers and even dumber warriors.)
The other Honorary César winner was 63-year-old Marlène Jobert, whose heyday took place in the 1960s and 1970s, when she worked with the likes of Jean-Luc Godard, Louis Malle, and Philippe de Broca.
In sharp contrast to most of the other women present — and to her screen self — Jobert showed up in a smart dark suit that covered most of her body. I usually don't pay attention to that sort of stuff, but she did look different. (And so did fellow suit wearer Marie-France Pisier.) Now, in her film clips the pert, freckle-faced Jobert appeared quite underdressed, and in a couple of them she was garbed just as nature made her. In sum, the sort of homage you won't see at the Oscars, lest the easily hot-and-bothered FCC censors suffer an apoplectic fit.
A charming Hilary Swank, after apologizing for being unable to speak French, read in English (with simultaneous French translation) the list of nominees in the best foreign film category. The winner was Little Miss Sunshine. A representative of the film's French distributor accepted the award for directors Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris. During his speech, the gentleman provoked (unintended) gales of laughter by nervously caressing his long, thick statuette in a manner that was more than a little suggestive. He has my vote for a future César d'Honneur for providing what is surely one of the greatest comedic moments in César history.
By the way, the makers of Babel, The Queen, Volver, and Brokeback Mountain were the ones denied the chance to stroke phallic-shaped statuettes. Someone, somewhere will now surely accuse the French Academy of being anti-gay. I mean, not only did Brokeback Mountain — once again — lose to a thoroughly mediocre effort, but openly gay director Pedro Almodóvar, whose comedy-drama Volver is one of the two or three best films of 2006, also went home empty-handed.
Almodóvar, at least, did make a welcome appearance onstage to introduce the best actress winner and to thank the French public for their warm reception to Volver. As a plus, the director's Spanish-lilted French was a delight.
But in terms of sheer emotional pull, nothing could beat the minute-long standing ovation given to film legend Michèle Morgan (right), still looking great at almost 87 (born on Feb. 29, 1920). Morgan was present — at least in part — to witness the homage to director Gérard Oury, who died last year. Oury, one of the most popular filmmakers in France and the winner of an Honorary César in 1993, was the actress' companion for half a century. Morgan never made it to the stage, but she did take a bow, along with Oury's visibly moved daughter, Danièle Thompson, and grandson, Christopher Thompson, both of whom were nominated in the best original screenplay category for the charming Avenue Montaigne.
Following the announcement of Lady Chatterley as the best French film of the year, Pascale Ferran explained that at the end of the shoot the company was so broke there was no money for a wrap-up party. She then invited the film's technicians to "come join us onstage because the party is now."
Shortly thereafter, the evening's winners were herded onto the stage. Jude Law told the crowd (in French) that going to the movies is sexy, and the homage to le cinéma français was incongruously over to the tune of "Hooray for Hollywood." Ah, bon? Well, after three-plus hours of speeches, things do get more than a little confusing.
According to a Reuters report, 2006 was a solid year for French cinema, with approximately 85 million tickets sold for locally made films, the highest figure in 22 years. Additionally, profitability was at its best in about a decade.