The Musicians (2025)

-Written by Kyle Bain.

When Astrid (Valérie Donzelli) brings together a quartet of Stradivarius instruments, she quickly finds that the musicians that she’s gathered are incapable of working together. By hiring the piece’s composer, she hopes to create a harmony that will allow the four to become one, making good on the dream of her father. The Musicians is an analysis of music for sure, but, even more, it’s a symphonic representation of life.

The dry, subtle humor contrasts, and yet supports the bright vibrant sounds of the string instruments that fill the air throughout The Musicians. Finding common ground in terms of comedy when it comes to foreign films can often be massively challenging, causing rifts between a film and its audience. The Musicians, however, bridges the gap between French and the standard American comedy in a way that makes it accessible. However, had not an ounce of comedy resonated with viewers, I feel that it’s fair to say it would have presented simply as drama–still an apt pairing with the illustrious sounds of these gorgeous instruments. Writer-Director Grégory Magne develops a film that connects viewers and affords them the opportunity to understand and appreciate the powerful juxtapositions that drive this film. 

When it comes to music, the extent of my comprehension is simply knowing what I like. I can’t play a chord, I can’t read music, and my most sophisticated bit of musical knowledge is “All Cows Eat Grass.” Thirty years ago I attempted to learn how to play the snare drum, something I failed at–and I’ve never felt the need to try again since. Beyond that, I’ve rarely found myself moved by the instrumentals of a musical piece. Lyrics speak to me, provide me solace, even move me to be and do better–but with my limited understanding, I can’t say that instrumentals have ever truly moved me (at least not in a way that I fully understood). All that to say that The Musicians was able to do this for me. It’s the way in which Magne presents this combative story to viewers, the way in which he repeatedly expresses the difficulty of learning a piece, collaborating with others, and ultimately finding success. With well-developed context the music becomes easier to understand–and The Musicians became a cathartic experience as a result. 

The narrative structure of The Musicians works brilliantly, as there are a series of secondary and tertiary stories that exist in the background of the film–and not once did I find that they clouded the judgement of viewers or fracture the primary narrative. They work as pieces of a whole that, without one another, simply can’t work. Together they work as a symphony, one that flows harmoniously from the screen and presents viewers with the opportunity to appreciate each individual piece as well as the whole. 

While The Musicians is all about sound, there are some aesthetically brilliant moments as well that make the film feel more complete. Effective framing, a brilliant and immersive set design, and the simplicity of the costumes create a welcome visual accompaniment to those aforementioned sounds. Rather than allowing The Musicians to remain one note in which the audio is the only important aspect of the film, Magne extends it far beyond the obvious. 

If I were a musician, it’s quite possible that aspects of The Musicians mean more (whether good or bad). However, as something of an outsider with very few tools to help me understand the true significance of the music present in this film, I found Magne’s production delightfully immersive and honest. The Musicians is a stunning work of art that has the potential to reel in viewers from all walks of life and impress them at every turn. 

Directed by Grégory Magne. 

Written by Grégory Magne & Haroun. 

Starring Valéri Donzelli, Frédéric Pierrot, Mathieu Spinosi, Emma Ravier, Daniel Garlitsky, Marie Vialle, etc. 

9/10 = DROP EVERYTHING AND WATCH IT NOW