While it is a genre that has gone in many different directions, when it comes to comedy, there are a few films that are considered not only deeply important, but essentially function as cultural touchstones, reflections of social and historical moments that are much deeper than just works of humour. La Cage Aux Folles is one such film, and when Édouard Molinaro set out to adapt the celebrated stage play by Jean Poiret (which was the same source material for the highly acclaimed musical of the same name, as well as the beloved The Birdcage, a film I absolutely adore), he was taking quite a few risks, but was guided by a sense of knowing exactly how to handle challenging material, especially at a time when such subjects were still viewed as controversial, if not outright taboo within certain communities. Considered one of the most cherished comedies ever produced, and a film that has remained as fresh and invigorating today as it was at the time of its release (where it seemed to ruffle quite a few feathers, which is a description I’d assume everyone involved may have found quite appropriate considering the subject matter), and while this story has been adapted and reconfigured countless times, both directly and through homage, La Cage aux Folles never feels dated, since the original is always going to have quite a substantial advantage over any later works, especially one produced in such close proximity to the original play, which was something of an artistic coup d’etat when it first emerged on the Parisian stage, scandalizing and entertaining audiences in equal measure. Molinaro puts an abundance of effort into capturing this raw energy on screen, producing a masterfully well-constructed, deeply compelling dark comedy with a lot of heart and an even broader sense of humour, which is precisely why this film has withstood the test of time far more than many similarly-themed films.

When looking at a film like La Cage aux Folles, which was produced nearly half a century ago, we have to wonder what it is exactly that has allowed it to age so well. It is certainly not a particularly innovative film in either structure or tone, and there was always the possibility that it would fade into the background, becoming a relic of the past. Yet, it has constantly been seen as a major moment in not only French comedy, but the entire genre as a whole, frequently listed as one of the funniest films ever made, and an example of broad comedy that is both hilarious and intelligent, so much that even the many adaptations of the same source material, while usually quite excellent, do tend to pale in comparison in some ways. The answer is quite simple – this material sings in ways that cannot be replicated, but also doesn’t age, at least in terms of how it is executed. The fact that we can sit here and discuss a film produced 45 years ago as if it was some groundbreaking, scintillating comedy that still feels profoundly modern in terms of its major ideas should indicate precisely how strong these concepts are, and how it captures something quite elusive but also incredibly timeless. La Cage aux Folles is a family comedy masquerading as a queer farce, and it is only logical to assume that the concept of family tension and the insecurities of identity are going to register with many viewers, even those profoundly removed from the community represented in this film. The director’s main priority was seeming to capture the zeitgeist with precision and honesty, taking hold of the cultural milieux in which this film takes place, and reconfiguring them to appear accessible and compelling, as well as incredibly funny. It gives La Cage aux Folles a sense of being refreshing, honest and profoundly funny, with the intricate details coming to form the foundation for the broader narrative, which may not be particularly inventive or anything we haven’t seen before, but yet still comes across as unquestionably powerful and deeply moving in both style and substance.

As tempting as it would be to wax poetic about La Cage aux Folles and all the ways in which it is a landmark piece of queer cinema, those elements are so obvious they don’t even warrant too much discussion, since the style is inherently more compassionate and compelling than many other similarly-themed films from this era. What truly makes this film remarkable is the approach to the humour that pulsates throughout the narrative. The stage origins of this film are quite obvious, but it never comes across as being needlessly restrictive in its setting or how it translates the text from stage to screen. This is a very traditional farce, and Molinaro makes sure that he handles the material in a way that is dynamic but still pays tribute to the legacy that underpins the film. It may seem quite conventional in theory, but La Cage aux Folles is a film in which humour is not a device, but a conceptual framework from which the entire narrative is constructed – a good comedy-of-errors takes some humorous concepts and builds a compelling story around them (rather than the other way around, which is usually the modus operandi for other sub-genres of comedy, such as satire), which allows for a perpetual stream of comedy that finds nuances in the process of being created. Molinario clearly viewed comedy as a science, and this film is the perfect demonstration of these concepts in practice. The most common technique that this film uses is the plant-payoff structure, where the first part of a scene is spent building up to a punchline, and the second part delivering it, which nearly always lands precisely because everyone involved knew exactly how to handle this style of comedy – and as the film goes on, we set set-ups for various jokes that are only resolved much later, which can be quite surprising, since not everything in this film is immediately humorous on its own. It is a perfect collision of wildly entertaining ideas, and the director makes use of detailed ideas at multiple levels, and which is only made more compelling by the fact that he never once aims for the low-hanging fruit, instead choosing to keep it sophisticated but bitingly funny at the exact same time. 

Part of the process of refusing to punch down when it comes to the humour at sits at the heart of La Cage aux Folles comes in the characterisation. This is a film that does employ stereotypes, but they are all intentional – much like Poiret when he wrote the original play, Molinaro is not interested in taking the easy route to get a laugh, instead choosing to keep it elegant, but still very funny. The characters of Renato and Albin are outrageously funny, and they do sometimes lean into archetypes of queer characters, with their penchant for overdramatic behaviour and tendency towards effeminate characteristics being embedded deep within their characters, but in a way that is constructive and never mean-spirited. La Cage aux Folles is as much a riotously funny comedy as it is a tribute to the queer community as a whole, and it is an honour to have such remarkable characters as representatives. Casting was key, and Molinaro certainly made the right decision in choosing Ugo Tognazzi and Michel Serrault to play the central couple – not only are they remarkable actors in their own right, their chemistry is incredible. It is hardly surprising that the most memorable moments in this film are those in which these two actors are acting across from each other – not to disregard the exceptional work being done by the rest of the cast, but the chemistry between the two leads is so wonderful, with the humour and pathos they both bring to the roles just being incredible. This is a film that required strong performances across the board, and everyone delivers, both the leads and the supporting cast, who are all so perfectly calibrated to the tone and register of the narrative, it is difficult to find fault amongst any of them, since they’re all fully committed to bringing this story to life.

The cultural impact made by La Cage aux Folles should never be underestimated – how else can we explain the radical success of such a film that is almost universally adored, despite it being steeped in both queer commentary and French culture? The answer is that comedy doesn’t need to have temporal or cultural boundaries, and that we can appreciate any kind of humour if there is something compelling that accompanies it, which is vitally important and one of the primary reasons this film feels so fresh and endearing. The debate around the most effective interpretation of Poiret’s play is interminable, and all sides have very relevant points – and until watching this film, I genuinely did not think anything could surpass the brilliance that Mike Nichols and Elaine May brought to The Birdcage – and even though it is the closest we have to the original play, this is still an adaptation of an existing work, so it will obviously not be considered the original in the way that some may believe. Yet, the reality is that, regardless of the form this story takes, this is an attempt to bring a queer love story to the screen, which is in itself a major achievement, regardless of the era in which it occurs. Furthermore, it never trivializes the LGBTQIA+ community into a series of tics or stereotypes – these characters may have their quirks, but the reality is that they are complemented by deeply moving, earnest honesty that makes them so much more complex than we initially may expect. It’s a funny, insightful and deeply moving comedy that knows how to oscillate between styles, being both a bitingly hilarious comedy-of-errors and a tender romance, both of which are imperative to the overall style of the film. There is a reason why La Cage aux Folles has aged so beautifully, and they can all be found in both the intricate details and broad strokes of this film, which is truly empathetic and attempts to show the beauty of romance, whether that which exists between a longtime couple, or those who have only started to venture into this unpredictable but exciting world.