Tepid 'Coco'

It is the little moments in “Coco Before Chanel” that are supposed to enthrall us. But they do not, unless you’re captivated by advancements in fashion, and maybe not even then.

The life of Coco Chanel before she became famous is not by itself fascinating enough to command our attention. So director and co-writer Anne Fontaine seeks to enliven the picture with dangling little pretty baubles of recognition. When the pre-famous Coco makes a Halloween costume to look like an orphan’s uniform, we are to recognize the collar that will become the iconic Chanel collar. When she admires a fabric that turns out to be jersey, we are to understand that that is a fabric that will help define her style. When she goes to the shore and sees fishermen in their striped sweaters, we are instantly to glean something or other.

Beats me what it is. I’m not captivated by advancements in fashion.

The story, which is taken from a book, is simple and not unfamiliar: She falls for the wrong man, and then she falls for the right one.

Audrey Tautou stars as Gabrielle Chanel, whose nickname comes from a popular song she sings at what appears to be a combination music hall/brothel. Her sister introduces her to the wealthy Etienne Balsan (Benoit Poelvoorde), and she soon gives up a life of entertainment for a life as a kept woman. But she is moody and unhappy with him, so she becomes attracted to his equally wealthy English friend, Arthur “Boy” Kapel (Alessandro Nivola).

Tautou plays the character as enigmatic, which does add a whiff of mystery to the role, but it also makes her hard to get to know. We develop little empathy or passion for her, and only rarely care what happens to her. The film’s best scene stands out for his very reason -- it is the only one with any emotional heft. The scene comes when Etienne forces Coco to sing for his party guests; it is heartbreaking and, alas, singular.

As is perhaps not surprising for a movie about fashion (even when it pretends not to be about fashion), the picture is most successful in its visual presentation. The sets are sumptuous, the costumes crisp and evocative. And the composition within the frames is, at times, a marvel. An image endures of Coco alone outside on a vast estate, another showing her lying among (artfully arranged) leaves. Best of all is a scene at the sea, where everyone else is dressed in shades of cream, while she wears a dark plaid.

The meaning is obvious -- she stands apart from the rest of the world in her attitudes and ideas as well as her fashion sense.

True enough, perhaps. But it doesn’t seem to be enough for an entire movie.