Paris, 1920s. Rich music lover Marguerite Dumont is a huge opera fan. For years she has held private concerts in her luxurious house, but no one has ever dared tell her that her singing is awful. Out of fear, hypocrisy or laziness. But when Marguerite is encouraged by some new modern-minded people, she gets it into her head to produce a real public concert and things get complicated…

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As these things happen, both Xavier Giannoli’s Marguerite and Stephen Frears’ next project with Meryl Streep are based on the life of Florence Foster Jenkins, an American socialite who became famous for her awful singing voice. But while the Hollywood version will be a classic biopic, the one by Giannoli (Superstar, In the Beginning) is very loose with the facts, more inspired by than about Jenkins. His film is a tragicomic portrait of a mad heiress, played by the always magnificent Catherine Frot. Despite its excessive length (a little over two hours), Marguerite is a tightrope act, balancing laughter and tears, mockery and admiration, lightness and tragedy, surrounding a feminine, feminist character who overshadows everything around her – especially the oddly shallow secondary roles. A movie with a big heart that has definite charm, making it easy to overlook its little mistakes and weak spots.