Diva (Blu-ray Review)

  • Reviewed by: Stephen Bjork
  • Review Date: Feb 19, 2026
  • Format: Blu-ray Disc
Diva (Blu-ray Review)

Director

Jean-Jacques Beineix

Release Date(s)

1981 (January 20, 2026)

Studio(s)

Les Films Galaxie/Greenwich Film Productions/Antenne 2 (Kino Lorber Studio Classics)
  • Film/Program Grade: A-
  • Video Grade: B+
  • Audio Grade: A-
  • Extras Grade: B+

Review

The late Jean-Jacques Beineix’s delightful debut feature Diva may not have been an instant success in his native France, but it quickly became a global sensation during its international release. The reaction among French critics in 1981 was mixed, but the nearly universal acclaim that it received everywhere else became both a blessing and a curse for the director. Diva brought Beineix worldwide recognition, but it also created unreasonable expectations that overshadowed the rest of his career. Far too many people wanted him to keep making the exact same film over and over again, but like any genuinely idiosyncratic artist, he stubbornly followed his own muse instead. His sophomore effort The Moon in the Gutter (aka La lune dans le caniveau) generated an absurd level of hostility despite the fact that it was nominated for the Palme d’Or at Cannes, and while his third film Betty Blue (aka 37°2 le matin) drew a more positive reception, it still feels like there was always unstated disappointment that it wasn’t Diva. Of course, if Beineix had just continued making variations on Diva, then he probably would have been criticized for too much repetition. Sometimes, success means that you can’t win no matter what you do.

Regardless, the fact remains that Diva was a breath of fresh air when it was released back in 1981, and it became highly influential—just not necessarily on Beineix himself. In the same way that Jean-Luc Godard’s debut film Breathless had helped launch the French New Wave, Diva helped start its own movement in France that was dubbed the cinema du look. That term was always a little bit unfair, since it implies that these films favored style over substance. Yet not only does that overlook Godard’s own dictum that form is content, and therefore style is substance, it also overlooks the multiple layers that are always simmering under Diva’s admittedly dazzling surface.

One of the most remarkable things about Diva is the astonishingly well-developed world that it puts on display, all while simultaneously not revealing too much information about that world. Diva constantly evokes the uncanny sensation that its striking milieu exists beyond the borders of the film frame, with the camera acting as a window into a far deeper universe that continues to exist even when the camera stops rolling. The characters all feel like they have lives of their own that existed before the beginning of the narrative, and those lives will continue long after the film is over. That’s the central genius of Diva’s deceptive superficiality: Beineix’s glossy style offers glimpses into this tantalizing world, but it always leaves the viewer wanting to see more. It’s world-building extraordinaire: Beineix created a fully-realized universe, plopped his characters into the middle of it with little explanation, and then tantalized audiences without ever fully satiating them.

A key explanation for the impression of a broader world surrounding the narrative of Diva is his choice of source material. Beineix adapted the 1979 novel of the same name, written by Daniel Odier (under his pseudonym Delacorta), but the book is actually part of a series that features the central characters of Gorodish and Alba. Jules (Frédéric Andréi) and the opera singer Cynthia Hawkins (Wilhelmenia Fernandez) may seem like they’re the leads of Diva, but in reality, they’re just a transient pair who are drawn into the ongoing orbits of the true leads. Beineix presents Gorodish (Richard Bohringer) and Alba (Thuy An Luu) as side characters in this story, but he never really explains their backgrounds. While he didn’t necessarily incorporate any details from the other books in the series, it’s likely that Bohringer and Luu did their research prior to taking on the roles. Their performances feel like they’ve been informed by a knowledge of the history that these two characters have had together. Diva may not directly address that history, but Bohringer and Luu imply it via the unforgettable chemistry that they have together.

While Diva does unquestionably belong to Bohringer and Luu, both Andréi and Fernandez are quite good in their own roles, and the rest of the supporting cast is equally memorable. Dominic Pinon made his debut in Diva, and he would end up becoming a familiar face in French cinema for many years to come. Like everything else in the film, the hitmen played by Pinon and Gerard Darmon feel like characters with an extant history even though it’s never actually shown in the film. It’s yet another example of the ways in which Diva always entices, but never satiates. It’s meant to be savored over and over again, but never fully digested. That ended up becoming a paradigm for Beineix’s entire career: he enticed the world with Diva, but never let audiences gorge themselves on the same thing until they were sick of it. Beineix may not have given everyone what they wanted, but he left behind a diverse filmography that’s far more nourishing.

Cinematographer Philippe Rousselot shot Diva on 35mm film using Panavision Panaflex cameras with spherical lenses, framed at 1.66:1 for its theatrical release. (Note that a microphone drops into the frame at 23:53, but that appears to be a simple mistake rather than a framing issue.) This version is based on a 4K scan of the original camera negative by TransPerfect Media, with digital cleanup and grading done by StudioCanal. Aside from some slight softness in the optically printed opening credits, the rest of the film looks clearer and better-resolved than it ever has before. There’s no damage of note, but there is some scanner noise or other interference pattern visible in the sky at 56:04, and there’s some frozen or sticky grain in the sky at well (in that shot and elsewhere). I don’t have StudioCanal’s disc for comparison purposes, so it’s not clear if that’s an encoding artifact or if it’s simply baked into the master. In any event, the grading here is simply gorgeous, with the various blues that dominate the film all being reproduced accurately. Nothing looks skewed unless it was intended to be that way (and there are some deeply blue-shaded scenes in Diva). While the 4K version improves the overall clarity a bit, Diva still looks great in 1080p.

Audio is offered in French 2.0 mono DTS-HD Master Audio, with removable English subtitles. Mono or not, the frequency response and dynamics are excellent, with the various pieces of music and the score sounding great even without the advantage of a stereo spread. The sound effects, dialogue, and music are all well-balanced and free of distortion.

The Kino Lorber Blu-ray release of Diva is a two-disc set that includes a slipcover that duplicates the theatrical poster artwork on the insert. The following extras are included:

  • Scene Specific Commentary by Jean-Jacques Beineix (SD – 41:23)
  • Commentary by Simon Abrams
  • Introduction by Phil Powrie (SD – 6:21)
  • Holding Ground (SD – 11:01)
  • In the Café (SD – 8:33)
  • Interview with Frédéric Andréi (SD – 5:47)
  • Interview with Anny Romand and Dominique Pinon (SD – 12:02)
  • Interview with Richard Bohringer (SD – 6:55)
  • Interview with Vladimir Cosma (SD – 10:47)
  • Interview with Philippe Rousselot (SD – 6:05)
  • Interview with Hilton McConnico (SD – 6:50)
  • Interview with Dominique Besnehard (SD – 7:20)
  • Trailers:
    • -Diva (SD – 2:52)
    • -L’Amour braque (SD – 2:11)
    • -Mille milliards de dollars (HD – 2:35)
    • -Kamikaze (SD – 1:28)
    • -Deadly Circuit (HD – 3:11)

The archival “scene specific” commentary with Beineix would be better described as a selected scene commentary since it jumps through the film and only runs 41:23 total—it’s a separate featurette in SD rather than an audio track on the main feature. Beineix speaks in French while being translated by an unidentified translator, but his voice can still be heard in the background. (There are no subtitles either for the commentary or for the clips from the film.) Beineix breaks down his film from a thematic and stylistic perspective, noting a few commonalities in his work that might not be obvious at first glance.

The commentary with critic, author, and self-described “amateur opera enthusiast” Simon Abrams was originally recorded for the 2020 Blu-ray release from Kino. Abrams is enthusiastic in general, rarely slowing down while he leaps from subject to subject—although he does pause to listen to Wilhelmenia Fernandez sing! (He has his own Godard connection in terms of how he breathlessly he approaches his commentary.) Abrams opens by placing Diva into context with the cinema du look and French cinema in general, then addresses Beineix’s source material, the making of the film, its stylistic and thematic concerns, the reception that it received on its original release, and its legacy. He’s somewhat critical of many elements of the film, so this isn’t a hagiography, but it’s still a great track.

Aside from a collection of trailers, the rest of the extras are older archival ones, kicked off by an introduction from Phil Powrie, author of Jean-Jacques Beineix, along with Search for Diva co-producer Eric Grinda. It’s not an introduction to Diva itself, but rather a way of setting the stage for all of the interviews that follow. The first two are with Beineix, recorded consecutively at two different locations (they ran out of time at the first one, so they had to move to the café next door). He addresses the making of the film and his approach to filmmaking in general, including specific elements in Diva and his feelings about the cinema du look. He also addresses the initially negative reception that Diva received in France and its international release.

The next three interviews are all with members of the cast. Frédéric Andréi says that his experiences making the film influenced his own work as a director more than it did his other acting roles. The film’s failure proved stressful for everyone involved, and he learned that you have to fight to succeed. Anny Romand and Dominique Pinon discuss how they were cast and the preparation that they went through for their roles. Richard Bohringer talks about his own work in the film and his relationship with Beineix, who didn’t originally cast him as Gorodish, but he flipped parts after other actors turned down the role.

The rest of the interviews are with crew members. Vladimir Cosma is on hand to explain his minimalist approach to composition and how he created the unusual score for Diva. Phillippe Rousselot talks about working on the film as a young but experienced cinematographer, and how he helped push Beineix toward the distinctive blue-tinged look instead of the monochromatic style that the director initially wanted. Set designer Hiton McConnico also addresses the use of blue and how his own youthfulness informed his designs. Finally, casting director Dominique Besnehard covers, well, the casting of Diva and his collaboration with Beineix.

Missing here from the various StudioCanal releases overseas are the feature-length documentary Blue as Diva: Memories from a Cult Film and the featurette Diva, About the Film with Denis Paren. On the other hand, none of those releases have any of Kino Lorber’s extras, so Kino arguably still has the edge in that regard. If you’re not familiar with Beineix of the cinema du look, Kino Lorber’s Blu-ray is a fine place to start tracing the fascinating career of one of France’s most interesting directors of the last few decades.

-Stephen Bjork

(You can follow Stephen on social media at these links: Twitter, Facebook, BlueSky, and Letterboxd).