Paris Waltz or Three Waltzes, films with Printemps

Yvonne Printemps, Enchantress

by Robert Connolly

Born Yvonne Wigniolle (some sources give Wigniole or Wignolle) in 1894 to a poor family in Ermont, near Paris, at 13 Printemps was hired as a dancer at the Folies-Bergère. Because of her sunny disposition, chorus girls nicknamed her Printemps (springtime). By 1912 she was in a revue starring Maurice Chevalier and Mistinguett. A vocal coach who was highly esteemed by light-opera artists, Mme. Paravicini, warned Printemps that she was misusing her voice. She took lessons from Paravicini and gave her credit for her voice, which she still possessed half a century later.

In 1919 she became the second wife of the celebrated actor-playwright Sacha Guitry (he would have three more). Sarah Bernhardt was her witness. Guitry wrote a number of vehicles (mostly non-musical) in which they appeared together. She starred in more than 30 of his productions before their marriage broke up in 1933.

In 1926 Printemps and Guitry appeared in London in his play Mozart, with music by Reynaldo Hahn, in which she wore breeches and portrayed Mozart as a youth. The eminent critic James Agate wrote, “It is not exaggerating to say that on Monday evening people were observed to cry, and by that I mean shed tears, when Music’s heavenly child appeared at the top of the stairs and came down them to kneel at Mme. D’Epinay’s feet . . . At the moment of her entrance this exquisite artist made conquest of the house, and subsequently held it in thrall until the final curtain . . . Mlle. Printemps uses song and speech indifferently, changing almost imperceptibly from one to the other . . . M. Guitry plays the Baron with verve and brilliance whenever Mlle. Printemps’s occasional absences from the scene call for such a display. At other times he stands apart, rapt like one who has accomplished a marvel. And we in the audience perfectly understand the reason for that rapture. . . .”

In 1927 they appeared in Mozart for a month in New York, then taking the play to Montreal and Boston. It was the Guitrys’ first visit to America, and Printemps loved it, even finding time for a “merveilleuse aventure américaine,” which she later spoke of without revealing the name of the fortunate beneficiary.

In 1934 Noël Coward wrote Conversation Piece for Printemps and starred in it with her. She spoke no English and had to learn her part phonetically. (Since she played a French girl, she was able to slip into French when she got lost.) Her singing of “I’ll Follow My Secret Heart” was the show’s high spot. When Coward left the show, she was given a new leading man, the young and handsome French film star Pierre Fresnay, with whom she would fall in love and spend the rest of her life although they never married. The work played a 12-week limited engagement on Broadway, where critics were enthusiastic about her, less so about her vehicle.

Printemps made a number of films. Not a great beauty by movie standards (few stage stars are; the camera likes small, regular features) and nearing middle age, she was nevertheless a dazzling screen presence—witty, stylish, soignée. She had genuine acting ability, a dazzling smile, enormous charm—and that unique voice. One would like to see her Dame aux Camélias (1934) and Adrienne Lecouvreur (1938). Her two greatest successes, however, were Les Trois Valses (1938) and La Valse de Paris (1948).

Printemps was every bit the diva, with her enormous picture hats, dazzling jewels and tiny twin dogs. According to her biographers she could also be capricious, selfish, thoughtless, jealous and indifferent to everything that did not directly concern her. She had countless extramarital affairs, could swear like a sailor and drank to excess, especially in later years. People loved her anyway. Fresnay must have been a saint, for she inflicted every kind of indignity upon him—and he took it all, uncomplaining and devoted.

She appeared with Fresnay on the Paris stage until 1959, and until his death in 1975 they were co-directors of the Théâtre de la Michodière, in Paris. She died on January 19, 1977.

I recently remarked to Jean-Claude Baker, an adopted son of Josephine Baker, that Baker’s recordings of the 1929-31 period, when she sang with a lovely and distinctly un-American high soprano, reminded me of Printemps. “Voilà!” he exclaimed. “Josephine idolized Printemps and tried to sound as much as possible like her.”—Robert Connolly