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Aline is a movie about Céline Dion. Or, I should say, Aline is a “movie” about “Céline Dion.” It’s pretty obvious this cinematic fanfic about a preternaturally gifted Quebecois belter with a gigantic family, much-older ponytailed husband, and successful Las Vegas residency is about the Queen of Adult Contemporary. But probably to avoid the power ballad pioneer’s litigious wrath, her name has been changed to Aline Dieu. And there’s a disclaimer before the opening credits making sure we don’t look at this stuff like faithfully factual, decently-budgeted reenactment. “This film is inspired by the life of Céline Dion,” it tells us. “It is, however, a work of fiction.” 

It’s a bold move to make a biopic about a subject nowhere near the twilight of their career and then, on top of that, get neither their input nor their blessing. So it’s not so surprising to learn that Aline has been engineered by someone seemingly hooked on the risky thrills of artistic audacity unworried about so-called good taste. The movie’s co-writer, director, and star, Valérie Lemercier, is well-established in France as a comedian and actress capable of being quite good when tamed by a conventional movie. But her biggest claim to fame is identity-scrambling projects that sound, a little, like stunts. Take, for instance, Le Derriére (1999), which she also wrote and directed, in which the character Lemercier plays decides the best way to reconnect with her long lost father is posing as an effete gay man; Palais royal! (2005), where Lemercier, again also writing and directing, is doing thinly-veiled Princess Diana cosplay; or Agathe Cléry (2008), in which Lemercier dons blackface in service of a message about the ugliness of racism that is about as nuanced and well-thought-out as wearing blackface in service of a message about the ugliness of racism.

Read the full column on 425.