Demy had already shattered hearts with The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964), a sung-through tragedy where every note seemed rain-soaked. With Rochefort, he reversed the formula. Here, dialogue scenes are spoken, and songs erupt as joyous, diegetic interruptions—from street pianos to carnival stages. The plot, a carousel of missed connections, follows twin sisters (Deneuve and real-life sister Françoise Dorléac, in her final screen role) who dream of leaving their sleepy Atlantic port town for Paris. Meanwhile, a murder subplot (yes, a murder), a sailor on leave, and a visiting American composer named Andy (Gene Kelly, dancing like a god) all converge in a series of near-misses.
The film’s genius lies in its structure of ironic detachment: Everyone is searching for their ideal love, often standing just yards apart. Demy, who survived the Brittany bombings as a child, understood that life’s cruelties are often mundane—not tragic, just mismatched. Rochefort’s radiant surface is the film’s true darkness: a world so beautiful that pain becomes invisible.
By: Senior Film Critic
In the vast, often somber library of the Criterion Collection—a canon filled with neorealism’s grit, Bergman’s existential dread, and Tarkovsky’s poetic melancholy—there is one title that stands apart like a pastel-colored firework against a grey sky. That title is Jacques Demy’s The Young Girls of Rochefort (1967).
Recently restored and gleaming in the Criterion format, Les Demoiselles de Rochefort is more than a movie; it is a vaccination against cynicism. Sixty years after its release, this candy-colored confection has not aged a day. For collectors searching for the definitive edition, the Criterion 1967 release (Spine #318) is the gold standard. But why does this specific film, at this specific runtime (120 minutes), continue to captivate audiences who claim to “hate musicals”? Let’s dive into the harbor of Rochefort.
A radiant, expertly crafted musical, The Young Girls of Rochefort is both escapist delight and emotionally astute cinema. Demy’s film remains a high-water mark for the form: a sunny, bittersweet celebration of the small wonders that push people toward love. The Young Girls of Rochefort -1967- Criterion -...
If you’d like, I can expand this into a longer essay, a scene-by-scene analysis, or a piece focused on Legrand’s score or Demy’s visual style. Which would you prefer?
The Young Girls of Rochefort (1967) is director Jacques Demy’s effervescent masterpiece, a candy-colored tribute to the Golden Age of Hollywood musicals. Released by The Criterion Collection as spine #717, this high-definition restoration breathes new life into the film’s iconic pastel palette and jazz-infused score, solidifying its place as a cornerstone of French cinema.
The Young Girls of Rochefort (The Criterion Collection ... - Amazon.com Amazon.com
The Young Girls of Rochefort (1967) | The Criterion Collection The Criterion Collection Criterion's "The Essential Jacques Demy" Roger Ebert The Young Girls of Rochefort (1967) - Scene by Green SceneByGreen
Criterion is famous for its “extras,” and the The Young Girls of Rochefort -1967- Criterion disc is a treasure trove. Demy had already shattered hearts with The Umbrellas
The Criterion release allows modern audiences to appreciate the film’s most poignant subtext: the real-life bond between the two leads. Françoise Dorléac was a blazing talent—edgier, more cynical, and more volatile than her younger sister, Deneuve. Off-screen, they were inseparable. On-screen, their chemistry is electric, a genuine shorthand of sisterly exasperation and adoration.
Tragically, The Young Girls of Rochefort was the last film Dorléac completed. In June 1967, just months after the film’s release, she died in a fiery car accident at the age of 25. Watching the Criterion transfer—with its crystal-clear definition and restored color timing—you see the tragedy in reverse. The film, which should be a pure comedy, becomes a ghost story. When Solange sings "Chanson des Jumelles" (Song of the Twins), promising that nothing will separate them, the irony is devastating. Criterion’s supplements include a lengthy interview with Deneuve speaking about her sister, transforming the viewing experience from spectacle into memorial.
No discussion of Rochefort is complete without Michel Legrand’s magnum opus. Where Cherbourg borrowed from Puccini, Rochefort swings with the brassiness of Stan Getz and the lyricism of French chanson. The songs are deceptively simple—“Chanson des Jumelles” (“Song of the Twins”) opens as a nursery rhyme before modulating into a complex round. “À Chacun Son Histoire” (“To Each His Story”) delivers existentialist philosophy in waltz time.
Criterion’s release includes an isolated music track, allowing listeners to fully appreciate the orchestration—particularly in the legendary “Dance of the Matelots,” where Legrand’s 5/4 time signature gives the sailors’ choreography an off-kilter, giddy anxiety. Gene Kelly, approached to choreograph the film, instead agreed to act and dance, with Norman Maen handling staging; Kelly’s solo to “You Must Believe in Spring” (cut from the original international release but restored here) is a quiet masterclass in screen vulnerability.
For decades, The Young Girls of Rochefort circulated in muddy, faded prints that did justice neither to the cinematography nor to Michel Legrand’s legendary score. The Criterion 1967 release changed the game. The plot, a carousel of missed connections, follows
Released on Blu-ray and DVD, the Criterion edition features a 4K digital restoration (supervised by cinematographer Jean Rabier before his passing). The difference is staggering. Rabier shot the film in Eastmancolor, a stock notoriously difficult to preserve. On older transfers, the pastels of Rochefort’s town square looked sickly. On the Criterion transfer, however, the oranges are electric, the turquoises are deep, and the primary reds of the twins’ wardrobe pop with three-dimensional depth.
Key features of the Criterion release include:
Set over the course of a single weekend in the picturesque seaside town of Rochefort, the film weaves together the lives of several characters searching for love and artistic fulfillment.
The central figures are twin sisters, Delphine and Solange Garnier, played by real-life sisters Françoise Dorléac and Catherine Deneuve. Delphine teaches dance, while Solange teaches music; both dream of escaping their small town for the bright lights of Paris. Around them orbits a colorful cast of characters: a former pianist turned painter (Jacques Perrin) searching for his muse, an American musician (Gene Kelly) passing through town, and a suspicious fairground operator (Michel Piccoli).
The brilliance of the script lies in its structure of "missed connections." Characters constantly cross paths, nearly meeting their soulmates, only to just miss one another until the grand finale. It is a symphony of coincidences, choreography, and chance.