Beyond the Multiplex

Fast forward: Harlem chorines keep hoofing in "Been Rich All My Life"; "Fanfan la Tulipe" will win your heart and wear you out
It takes a while to get into the spirit of Heather Lyn MacDonald's "Been Rich All My Life," an easygoing portrait of five one-time Harlem showgirls who have reassembled, in their 80s and 90s, as a geriatric dance troupe called the Silver Belles. MacDonald films the gals rehearsing, goofballing around, cussing and calling each other names -- and I didn't grasp at first that this is the heart of the picture.

Sure, we learn some of the women's amazing history, and get to see a fair bit of their contemporary hoofing, which is loose and relaxed, if nowhere near as athletic as it used to be. The eldest, Bertye Lou Wood, was dance captain at the Apollo Theatre on 125th Street in the '30s, danced on film with the legendary Bill "Bojangles" Robinson, and led the first-ever strike by African-American performing artists, in 1940. When the film begins, she has finally quit dancing at 96; her declining health lends the Belles' story a distinctive urgency.

The others are hardly less remarkable. Cleo Hayes danced for Earl "Fatha" Hines, was an Apollo Rockette and a Cotton Club dancer, and danced in the first all-black USO unit during World War II. Marion Coles (widow of the great Honi Coles) is a legendary dance instructor, who helped make the Lindy Hop a national craze in the '40s. Fay Ray has been a shipbuilder, a New York cab driver and an Alaska pipeline worker, as well as a chorus girl. Elaine Ellis has survived two bouts of cancer and several strokes, and is still dancing at 86.

I said earlier that "Been Rich All My Life" is something like the "Ballets Russes" of tap dancing. I'm delighted to report that the similarities include the fact that the Belles are transmitting their improvisatory "rhythm tap" style to generations of younger dancers. Critic Nelson George has written that African-Americans never experienced nostalgia before the 1980s (because they literally couldn't afford to), but if that was ever true it has changed. The Silver Belles perform to enthusiastic, largely black audiences, and teach their techniques to mostly black students. As in "Ballets Russes," time takes its inevitable toll in this film. But the Belles' accomplishments will live on long after they're gone. (Opens July 21 at the Quad Cinema in New York, Aug. 4 in Boston and Sept. 14 in Minneapolis, with other engagements and DVD release to follow.)

I hate to be a grouch about the semi-delightful swashbuckler classic "Fanfan la Tulipe," barely seen in the United States since the '50s, but at least I'm not alone. I'll steal a line from my colleague Stephanie Zacharek, who told me after a recent screening that people should see this to understand why the French New Wave had to happen. Don't get me wrong: This 18th century romp from director Christian-Jaque, a major high-end filmmaker of the '40s and '50s in France, has two great stars (and I'm not just talking about Gina Lollobrigida's breasts), a lot of lovingly choreographed swordplay and considerable good humor.

The title character, a legendary French Everyman of song and story, is played by Gérard Philipe, an almost forgotten actor who was one of the biggest screen idols of his generation. (He died of cancer in 1959, at just 37.) He's a classically charismatic rogue, loyal to friends but never to women, who vaguely anticipates something of the feckless charm of "Six Feet Under" star Peter Krause. Lollobrigida balances him nicely as the "gypsy" girl who tells his fortune and spends the rest of the film darting dark-eyed glances his way, while impressively strapped into a peasant bodice. (Her dialogue is dubbed into French.)

Many of the French comic actors packaged in supporting roles here are fun, but there sure are a lot of them, and the hectic, sprawling "Fanfan la Tulipe" eventually feels like too much -- too many goofy asides, too much Comédie Française hambone acting, too much gallantry and villainy, too much forced good cheer. Still, screenwriters René Wheeler and René Pallet offer a good-natured, cynical view of all things military and political (especially the regime of Louis XV, presented here as a pompous lech), Philipe is undeniably dashing and Lollobrigida is, er, a formidable screen presence. If you've already drunk at least half a bottle of medium-good wine, you'll have a splendid time. (Opens July 21 at Film Forum in New York, Aug. 18 in Boston, Aug. 25 in Los Angeles, Oct. 13 in Washington and Nov. 3 in San Francisco, with more bookings to be announced.)

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