One might wonder why we need two biopics about Coco Chanel, and I am still left wondering after watching the latest, Coco Chanel & Igor Stravinsky. Fortuitously, given that it’s completely separate from last year’s Coco Before Chanel, it begins where the latter film left off. It is, however, less a biography, more a speculation, based on Chris Greenhalgh’s novel, ‘Coco and Igor’, which suggests an affair between the hard-hearted designer and the tempestuous Russian composer. It’s not quite clear how Greenhalgh managed to fill 336 pages fleshing out this rumour; presumably in the same way that the film succeeds in stretching a myriad of loaded looks and minimal dialogue over 1 hour 18 minutes.
Perhaps this is too harsh, but I certainly preferred Coco Before Chanel, despite the fact I had the misfortune of watching it with several sceptical boys. After the opening credits, the boys either swiftly fell asleep or struggled to stay awake in order to grace us with their running critical commentary. I think I preferred the sleeping kind, despite the occasional snore during the most crucial moments. Things didn’t bode well for Coco & Igor either, as my friend and I managed to book tickets for it on the sunniest, warmest evening we’d had in weeks. So I needed this film to be good, and, I admit, it was, in parts.
The opening scenes, for example, are fantastic – a wonderful performance of Stravinsky’s Rites of Spring. The experimental dancing and discordant music causes a ruckus in the audience that conveys perfectly the upheavals being made in the modernist arts of the time, and the struggle to adapt to them. Yet, in this case, it does truly seem that music speaks louder than words, as the less-than-scintillating dialogue that follows fails to live up to the initial promise. Of course, the things which are consistently fabulous are the classic Chanel clothes, many of them original thanks to the collaboration of the House of Chanel, who made available their archives and even Chanel’s Parisian apartment. Karl Lagerfield also specially created the evening dress that Coco wears to The Rites of Spring. Chanel’s Art Deco house in Garches to which she moves the Stravinsky family, is also a beautiful treat for the eyes. Needless to say, it is not a boys’ film, unless, perhaps, they wish to fast-forward to the uncomfortably explicit sex scenes, which nonetheless show off Anna Mouglalis’s (Romanzo Criminale, Gainsbourg) gorgeous yet achingly thin body.
A few words on Mouglalis, who, poor thing, unexpectedly had to follow in the footsteps of the gamine Audrey Tautou, who only a year previously had been praised as ‘the perfect Coco’. In terms of looks, she more than holds her own, with immaculate lips, dark eyes and an inscrutable face; appropriate for a character that shows barely a hint of emotion during the film, and a wonderfully deep and Gîtane-roughened voice. In terms of performance, however, it quickly becomes apparent that she is definitely a model first, actress second. She doesn’t have the luck of Tautou either, in that she has to play a Coco Chanel rendered even more frosty and indifferent by grief at the loss of her one love, Boy Capel, the First World War, and runaway success in the Parisian fashion scene.
The truth is that Chanel was not a likeable woman, which renders the question of the need for two biopics about her even more pressing. She is utterly manipulative; her invitation to the Stravinskys to stay in her house, her dances with the children on their first night there, are all part of a cold-hearted plan to seduce Igor (Mads Mikkelsen, best known as’Le Chiffre’ in Casino Royale). She indeed succeeds in doing this, in front of his consumptive, and creepily eyebrow-less wife, no less. These two strong minds conduct an affair which nonetheless seems to lack strong emotion, apart from when they’re arguing – Igor notably calls Coco a “shopkeeper”. Indeed, this outburst constitutes one of the few moments in this film which involves more than minimum dialogue and a small helping of action. The rest meanders along with little storyline in sight, culminating in a fragmented, rushed ending that leaves us in the happy knowledge that both Coco and Igor died alone and, undoubtedly, miserable.
Come and watch this film for a gorgeous woman, stunning clothes, unbelievably chic interior design, a mixed French and Russian script, and the initial, superb ballet-scene. The kaleidoscope graphics that form the background to the opening credits are splendidly done too; although the fact that I remember them as a high-point would seem to reflect badly on the film itself. In the end, if you’re looking for substance or any kind of plot, you might want to take a look at the likes of Inception instead.
