Divine: Paris dreams and dairy delivery

Is it worth your time?

If you like old-school French cinema that doesn't try to be too heavy, you’ll probably have a decent time with Divine. If you need tight pacing or a story that doesn't wander off into the weeds, look elsewhere. It’s for the folks who want to watch Paris shimmer while someone learns a hard lesson about stage life.

The whole thing starts with a country girl hitting the big city. It’s the usual story, but there’s something about the way the camera moves that makes you pay attention. Ophüls really knew how to make a room look like a fever dream.

The transition from a quiet life in the fields to the smoky, noisy reality of a Paris chorus line feels surprisingly abrupt. One minute she’s just there, and the next she’s buried in feathers and heavy makeup. The contrast is sharp, maybe a bit too sharp. Sometimes it feels like she’s living in two different movies at once.

Wait, the milkman?

Yes, the milkman. He shows up and provides that soft, grounded center the movie desperately needs. It’s sweet, almost painfully so. You can feel the director trying to pull the story away from the stage lights and back to something human, even if it feels a little forced.

• The costumes are wilder than you'd expect.
• The supporting cast seems to be having way more fun than the lead.
• There’s a weird amount of time spent on curtains.

Watching this made me think of the tone in The Water Gipsies. There’s that same sense of wanting a better life but realizing the world isn't really set up to give it to you for free. It’s not as gritty, though. It’s more like a postcard from a version of Paris that only existed in someone’s head.

There's a scene near the middle where the dialogue just drags on. It goes on for about thirty seconds too long, and you start looking at your phone. You can almost feel the movie trying to convince you that this conversation is deeply moving, but it’s just… a conversation.

Still, you keep watching. Maybe it’s the lighting. Maybe it’s just the curiosity of seeing how the mess ends. It’s not a masterpiece, but it’s got a pulse. Sometimes that’s enough. 🎭