Two thirds of the way through The Concert, the exuberant romp by Romanian-born filmmaker Radu Mihaileanu set in Moscow and Paris, during a serious restaurant scene, I realized the film was just an exotic version of The Mighty Ducks. The Concert has the same ludicrous premise: a team of mismatched, completely ill-equipped ordinary folks aspires to win a championship against all odds, come within a whisker of the ignominy they deserve, and miraculously seize victory. My errant mind almost curdled my enjoyment but the sheer verve and creativity of Mihaileanu’s film swept aside all doubts.
A once-famous Russian conductor, fired as head of the Bolshoi orchestra thirty years ago during the height of Brezhnev-era suppression, now works as a janitor. One night he spies a fax requesting the Bolshoi orchestra for a concert in Paris. He seizes his chance and assembles his old team of musicians scattered in dead-end jobs, and off to France they go. Misadventure piles upon misadventure; a poignant subplot deals with the conductor’s insistence on having a young female French violinist as lead musician.
The fantastical plot of The Concert mostly brushes aside viewer doubts, the acting is solid to great (Dmitri Nazarov is especially strong as best friend Sasha), and there are enough laugh-out-loud scenes to make up for some characterization cliches. The broader observations on modern Russia and the Slavic character are painted lightly. The final, extended climactic scene is directed with amazing assurance.
An unusual near-pitch-perfect modern farce. 3 stars.