Criterion, London
It irons out the eccentricities in Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s film but this show has a timely message and delights in small pleasures
Twenty years ago, Jean-Pierre Jeunet introduced us to Amélie Poulain, the Parisian waitress who loves skipping stones, cracking into creme brulee and craning her neck at the cinema to see the audience’s faces. Such is the novelty of theatre-going after lockdown, this musical adaptation of the hit film may provoke a similar impulse.
While it irons out a number of Jeunet’s eccentricities and has a sometimes insipid score, there is a wonderful lead performance by Audrey Brisson, who liberates her friends by engineering episodes of happiness and romance for them, while falling in love herself with photo-booth obsessive Nino. The real coup de foudre, however, comes with Madeleine Girling’s elegant, clever design. Bookended by upright pianos, the set conjures bistro chic and Métro anonymity, gives Amélie’s garret a warm glow, and hides surprises, including a cabinet of luminous dildos.
