César
I probably should’ve watched the other films in the Marseille Trilogy first, but I didn’t realise César was part three until it was too late. By then it already felt like I’d wandered into a bar-tabac full of regulars swapping stories I’d missed, knocking back Pernod and chain-smoking Gauloises while I tried to keep up.
It’s mostly blokes of a certain age talking things round in circles — love, loyalty, regret — like the world’s longest heart-to-heart over cheap pastis. Pagnol’s writing has warmth, and there’s wisdom buried in all the chatter, but it moves at the pace of a sleepy afternoon.
There’s some charm here, if you tune into its rhythm, but it’s more theatre than cinema. César feels like overhearing someone else’s nostalgia — pleasant enough, just not riveting. Still, worth a revisit once I’ve seen the first two and can join the conversation properly.
It’s mostly blokes of a certain age talking things round in circles — love, loyalty, regret — like the world’s longest heart-to-heart over cheap pastis. Pagnol’s writing has warmth, and there’s wisdom buried in all the chatter, but it moves at the pace of a sleepy afternoon.
There’s some charm here, if you tune into its rhythm, but it’s more theatre than cinema. César feels like overhearing someone else’s nostalgia — pleasant enough, just not riveting. Still, worth a revisit once I’ve seen the first two and can join the conversation properly.
Mini Review: I didn’t realise César was part three of a trilogy until halfway through, by which point it felt like I’d wandered into a Marseille bar full of regulars reminiscing over Pernod and Gauloises. It’s mostly men talking circles around love and regret — warm, wise, but slow. More theatre than cinema, yet worth a revisit once I’ve seen the first two.