Charles Aznavour is often described as “France’s Frank Sinatra” – and he was, in a way, in that he rose from humble beginnings to become an entertainment industry giant. You could argue, perhaps, that Aznavour was the greater talent than Ol’ Blue Eyes – he wrote his own songs (more than 1200 of them). And, according to this film at least, he was probably the nicer guy.

Told in chronological chapters over two hours, Monsieur Aznavour gives itself a lot of ground to cover, beginning with a warmly sketched portrait of Aznavour’s family, the Aznavourians – Armenian refugees running a café-cum-social club in Paris in the late 1920s. It’s here that the young Shahnur (later ‘Charles’) imbibes the music of his people and of the Parisian streets. After his first taste of life in the spotlight, he is hooked.

For the next hour or so, the film is at its most lively, covering Aznavour’s early career in the 1930s, playing the clubs and dance halls of Paris with his musical partner and best friend, Pierre Roche. Aznavour (a brilliant Tahar Rahim) is mocked for his nasal voice, his ethnicity, and his stature, but his determination never wanes. Even during the Nazi...