The Golden Coach

A delicious confection of gorgeous technicolor, brash and romantic spectacle, and broad, outlandish characters. It isn't particularly profound, but it is fun testament to the power of theatrical escapism.

A vivacious actress seems to be looking for the Goldilocks level of violently jealous man – not too much, not too little – only to eventually rediscover, gloriously yet melancholically, if not tragically, that her true path consists in that infinite extraordinariness that comes out of a not-so-ordinary ordinariness grounded in the theatrical composition of truth and fiction, reality and artifice, seriousness and laughter. Strangely sad, incredibly beautiful, wonderfully surprising, perfect end.

A decent film but I hated Magnani's character so much that it completely ruined any interest I had in what was going on.

A charming little bit about commedia dell'arte, mostly noteworthy for the excellent performance by Anna Magnani and the Vivaldi score. I hate Renoir's use of Technicolor, however, and here it has the same muddy, washed-out look as The River. I really don't understand how anyone could praise the color in this film, but perhaps I'm missing something.

Filmed at Renoir's typically leisurely pace, with exquisite costume design and Technicolor. It's too bad most of the characterizations are very thin. The main character is particularly irritating in her apparently fickle desires and shallow attitude, and she is played by Anna Magnani in stilted English. The one exception is the Viceroy, well-acted by Duncan Lamont.