Monsieur Ibrahim And The Flowers Of The Koran

March 05, 2024

Set in 1960s low-rent Paris, an aging Muslim takes a Jewish boy under his wing. Omar Sharif sparkles as a Turkish grocery store owner and self-styled philosopher. Heart-warming audience-pleaser, pic is already widely sold abroad and looks slated to spread good vibes and interracial peace message through a large swath of viewers.

Set in the cinematic wonderland of 1960s low-rent Paris, an aging Muslim takes a Jewish boy under his wing in “Monsieur Ibrahim and the Flowers of the Koran.” Omar Sharif sparkles as a Turkish grocery store owner and self-styled philosopher who brings sunshine into the life of a lonely boy. Director Francois Dupeyron (“What Is Life,” “The Officer’s Room”) turns Eric-Emmanuel Schmitt’s story into a heart-warming audience-pleaser somewhat diminished by an unexciting finale. Pic is already widely sold abroad and looks slated to spread good vibes and interracial peace message through a large swath of viewers.

Despite his Cinderella existence (he even has to shop and cook for his ungrateful pere), Momo precociously discovers the pleasures of the pretty streetwalkers who line the rue Bleue. He pays for his first experience with Sylvie (Anne Suarez) by breaking open his piggy bank. His coming of age, which includes courting the freckled girl next door (Lola Naymark), is the freshest part of the film, synched to the irresistible energy of loud rock songs and happy hookers in the very Jewish rue Bleue.

Filling the void left by his unaffectionate father, Momo bonds with the local “Arab” shopkeeper, Monsieur Ibrahim (Sharif). An armchair philosopher whose Koranic wisdom stretches from “a smile will bring you happiness” to “paradise is open to everyone,” the kind old man becomes a father to the boy, first metaphorically and then literally, when Momo’s father dies.

At that point, the boy’s life turns to bliss and the film into a fairy tale. All the wisdom Ibrahim has demonstrated flies out the window. Drunk on parenthood, he comically buys a red sports car like the one in which he saw a movie star riding (Isabelle Adjani as Brigitte Bardot), and only then takes driving lessons.

Waving goodbye to the hookers, the two take off for Ibrahim’s native Turkey in a fantasy journey of passing clouds, shimmering mosques and whirling dervishes. Film ends on this note like a gentle fable, with Ibrahim still smiling and quoting from the Koran.

Unshaven and twinkling-eyed, Sharif is professionally light and entertaining in the title role, in total contrast to the fine Melki who courageously plays the father as a glum intellectual unable to rise above his depression. Boulanger, with his dark good looks and precocious screen confidence, is a lively discovery.

Tech work is high quality throughout. A special nod goes to Dupeyron for packing the film with an exhilarating selection of early rock, subbing for an original music track.

Pic screened at Venice as a salute to Sharif, who received a Gold Lion for lifetime achievement.