As you may or may not recall, I despised Olivier Dahan’s “La Vie en Rose”, the overheated biopic in which the wrong-headed director forces the usually wonderful Marion Cotillard to give a flailing, cartoonish performance as a grotesquerie of Edith Piaf.

Here’s a quote from my Metro review:

“… moving spastically, barking her dialogue in a staccato cackle, her features buried under unconvincing makeup, Cotillard’s Piaf is a monstrous caricature of the singer’s persona — a nightmare gargoyle whose only appealing quality is that wrenching voice.”

(I’m kind of proud of that one; it took a while to line the words up just so.)

With all the buzz over Cotillard’s alleged Oscar chances — highly unlikely now, since France has submitted “Persepolis” for the Foreign-Language Oscar, meaning Picturehouse will have to work three times as hard to get the Academy to even pick up a screener of “La Vie en Rose” — I’d feared I was alone in my loathing.

But non! The House Next Door tells me I have a compatriot in Josh R, over at Edward Copeland on Film, who on Wednesday posted a marvelous review of Cotillard’s performance, and the film as a whole:

My mother, who is completely ignorant on most matters relating to pop culture, surprised me about midway through the film by hitting the nail on the head. “Yoda”, she crisply ventured …

It’s a great read, even if you haven’t seen the movie; the only downside is that, if you haven’t seen the movie, you might come away thinking it’s worth a look for the camp value. It is not. You have been warned.