Caramel documents the romantic foibles of a group of women who work in or frequent a lively hair salon that doubles as an important social center. There's a bride-to-be who resorts to desperate measures to keep her future husband from learning that he isn't marrying a virgin. (Come to think of it, that plotline probably isn't going to come up in a Barbershop movie.) There's a gorgeous hair stylist locked in a doomed relationship with a married man, which keeps her from noticing a lovestruck cop who cunningly hides his good looks behind an unflattering mustache. A pretty, cranky tomboy is attracted to another bride-to-be, while an older tailor deals with the attentions of an elegant French gentleman of questionable sanity. And then there's her crazy comic-relief mother, who talks in an agitated, comically high-pitched Donald Duck squawk.
Caramel introduces lots of conflicts and subplots without resolving any of them, which is much of its meandering, laidback appeal. At its best, Caramel boasts a quietly engaging slice-of-life casualness. The film's gauzy sumptuousness nicely echoes the ripe, furtive sensuality of salons where the practiced touch of a skilled hairstylist boasts a sneaky erotic charge. It buzzes with soap-opera situations handled with the low-key naturalism and laconic rhythms of a superior art film. Caramel is basically a chick flick for the smart set, but the oft-disparaged subgenre would be a lot more respected if every film pitched at women boasted Caramel's unforced charm.
