Catherine Frot (Cohen Media Group)

Wilkes-Barre born socialite Florence Foster Jenkins (1868-1944) had an unusual recording career: an album’s worth of 78s that cements her reputation as one of the worst singers of all time. This famously untalented chanteuse is the subject of two films this year: an upcoming biopic starring Meryl Streep as Jenkins; and the French film Marguerite, loosely based on Jenkins’ life. The latter makes its appearance this week, and while it doesn’t seem entirely well-meaning, it’s worth seeing for an endearing lead performance.

Jenkins’ vocal imperfections are sometimes attributed to the syphilis she contracted from her husband, Dr. Frank Jenkins. The provenance of her distinct voice seems like perfect fodder for a biopic, but the delusions of Marguerite Dumont (whose name resonates with Marx Brothers straight woman Margaret Dumont) appear to be a natural gift.

As the film opens, Dumont’s faithful valet Madelbos (Denis Mpunga) escorts Hazel (Christa Théret), a Paris maid, to a castle where Marguerite (Catherine Frot) is holding a recital. The young singer’s voice thrills the audience, but the aging hostess has not yet appeared, waiting in the wings for her husband (André Marcon) to arrive. Unable to wait any longer, she sings.

But Marguerite is thoroughly unable to control her pipes—notes desperately take off in directions that notation can’t know. Yet the audience cheers for its wealthy patron, and young journalist Lucien Beaumont (Aubert Fenoy) plans to encourage Dumont for his own ulterior motives.

Marguerite is a two-hour movie whose protagonist is the subject of mockery within the film. Connecting 1920s France to contemporary audiences that eat up product like Sharknado simply to hate-watch, writer-director Xavier Giannoli injects his Jenkins-like figure into the Dada movement. Beaumont and his friend Kyrill (Aubert Fenoy) hold up Marguerite’s lack of bourgeois intonation as an anarchic slap in the face of the aesthetic establishment.

What keeps this together is the glowing, sensitive performance from Catherine Frot (The Page Turner), who plays the deluded singer with an earnest grace that completely wins the movie-going audience. Her Marguerite is naive and dotty, fearless and genuine, passionate about music, and supportive of others’ talents.

However, it is suggested that her fondness for the bombastic operatic singer Atos Pezzini (Michel Fau) is misguided. Pezzini is hired to sustain the delusion and tutor Marguerite for a public performance, although her unfaithful husband, who strays from her performances, tries to tell her the truth.

This is a film about obsession and delusion, and a climactic montage has the deranged fervor and Michael Nymanesque score of 80s’ Peter Greenaway. Unfortunately, the film’s slick craft works against its star’s innocence.

Might it had been a better movie if it were as earnestly bad as its protagonist? Frot explains the difficulty of the role she plays: “The hardest is to sing out of tune well: to find what is beautiful in something erroneous.” Frot finds that beauty, but the problem with Marguerite might be that it’s not erroneous enough.

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Marguerite
Written and directed by Xavier Giannoli
With Catherine Frot, André Marcon, Michel Fau
Rated R for brief graphic nudity and sexual content, and a scene of drug use
129 minutes
Opens today at Landmark Bethesda Row