One of the oddest gigs I've seen in a long time. The weathered Leven sings mournful songs of loss and regret in a rich, soulful voice. He's a big poetry man, quoting Pablo Neruda on his new album Shining Brother Shining Sister. Yet, more often than he's being a melancholic, working-class minstrel, he's being a man of the people in an entirely different manner. For at least half his time onstage, he tells bawdy shaggy dog stories.
Echoes of Jean De Florette only add to the charm of Christian Carion's bucolic visit to the Alpine French countryside. A young woman bored with life in the capital decides to become a farmer; cranky old neighbour Michel Serrault doubts whether she can hack it. Pretty scenery, yes, but also a perceptive study of mismatched spirits learning to rub along.
