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It took Pierre Augustin Caron de Beaumarchias four years to get his Marriage of Figaro past the censors; but when he did, in 1784, France loved it. By documenting the frivolity of the ancien regime, his work contributed heavily to the unpopularity of France's decaying aristocracy.
The story traces the acrobatics of an oh so eighteenth century count with a weakness for a winsom lady-in-waiting. Matters are confused considerably by the marked maid's dashing fiancee, Figaro, and inevitably by the lascivious count's peppery countess. When the bedclothes settle, the audience finds the proper pairs in the proper places, and a host of villagers send the couples merrily on their connubial ways.
In the fracas, though, France's first few Estates are undressed and their flabby forms thoroughly mocked. The pudgy bishop with his charming son, the stuttering judge and his artless encourage of wig-wearing half-wits, and the lecherous count hardly evoke respect for the leaders of the old monarchy. They all get their clothes back, finally, with a dab of cau de cologne, but the audience doesn't forget the bandy legs and buttressed bosom it has seen.
The film is the second effort of Productions Cinematographiques, a company organized to film the entire repetoire of the Comedie Francaise. The acting, directed by Jean Meyer, is exquisite, as are the traditional sets and costumes of Paris Studio Cinema.
The screen credits award incidental mention for background music to one W. A. Mozart.
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