You’ve seen weird movies, but have you seen the one where a king tries to marry his daughter because a magical donkey that poops gold died? Probably not. Honestly, Donkey Skin (or Peau d'Âne) is the kind of film that makes modern fantasy look a bit boring and safe.
Released in 1970 by the legendary Jacques Demy, this flick is a fever dream of psychedelic colors, catchy tunes, and a plot that would make a HR department have a collective heart attack. It’s based on a 17th-century Charles Perrault fairy tale. But Demy didn't just film a storybook; he basically took the storybook, dipped it in neon paint, and set it to a jazz-inflected score by Michel Legrand.
What’s the Donkey Skin French movie actually about?
Basically, the story starts with a "happily ever after" that goes horribly wrong. King Blue (played by the iconic Jean Marais) has everything: a beautiful wife, a gorgeous daughter, and a donkey that literally excretes gold coins. Life is good. Then the Queen dies. On her deathbed, she makes the King promise only to remarry a woman more beautiful than her.
The problem? The only person who fits the bill is his own daughter, played by Catherine Deneuve.
Instead of being a gritty drama, Demy treats this like a whimsical, pop-art musical. The Princess is understandably freaked out. She turns to her godmother, the Lilac Fairy (Delphine Seyrig), who tells her to ask for impossible gifts to stall the wedding. She asks for dresses the color of the weather, the moon, and the sun. The King, being a wealthy absolute monarch with zero chill, actually gets them made. Finally, she asks for the skin of the gold-pooping donkey.
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He kills the donkey. He gives her the skin. Talk about a "no" not being taken for an answer.
The visual insanity of Agostino Pace and Gitt Magrini
If you watch Donkey Skin for anything, watch it for the visuals. It’s famously "camp," but in a way that feels intentional and deeply artistic. Demy was obsessed with color theory. In the Princess’s kingdom, everything is blue. The servants have blue skin. The horses are blue. The architecture is blue. Then you go to the Prince’s kingdom later in the movie, and everything is bright, aggressive red.
The costumes by Agostino Pace and Gitt Magrini are legendary. That "weather" dress? It was actually made of movie screen material so they could project real footage of moving clouds onto the fabric while Deneuve moved. No CGI. Just old-school "fashion tech."
- The Weather Dress: Projected clouds and sky.
- The Moon Dress: Shimmering silver with celestial patterns.
- The Sun Dress: Blindingly bright gold that looks like it's melting.
Deneuve has often talked about how heavy these things were. She had to lug these massive, stiff gowns through the drafty corridors of the Château de Chambord while Demy demanded she look effortless.
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Why it’s more than just a "kids' movie"
A lot of people dismiss the Donkey Skin French movie as a children's film because of the bright colors and the singing. That’s a mistake. Demy was a core part of the French New Wave, even if his style was more "Technicolor dream" than "gritty black-and-white street scene."
He sneaks in all these weird, anachronistic details. The Lilac Fairy has a telephone in her magical grotto. At the end of the movie—spoiler alert—the King and the Fairy arrive at a wedding in a literal helicopter. It’s Demy’s way of poking fun at the "timelessness" of fairy tales. He's saying, "Look, this is all a construct, so why not have a helicopter?"
The movie also deals with the darker side of desire. While it’s presented as a fantasy, the underlying threat of incest is handled with a strange, melancholic irony. It’s uncomfortable. It’s meant to be. Unlike the sanitized Disney versions of fairy tales we get now, Peau d'Âne keeps the sharp, jagged edges of the original 1695 text.
Real talk: The production was a mess
It wasn't all magic and glitter on set. Demy originally wanted a massive Hollywood budget, but he couldn't get it. He had to settle for what he called "makeshift and magic."
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They shot on location at real French castles like Château du Plessis-Bourré, but they didn't have the money to furnish them. So, the production designer just draped the walls in real ivy to hide the emptiness. The famous "flower bed" that was supposed to open and close mechanically broke on the first day. Demy just saw some statues of stags downstairs, hauled them up, and turned them into the bed frame instead.
Even that iconic donkey skin? It was real. Deneuve reportedly didn't know it came from a real slaughterhouse until she smelled it. She had to wear this heavy, smelly, raw-hide pelt while playing a delicate princess. Talk about acting.
Is it worth watching in 2026?
Honestly, yeah. Especially if you’re tired of the "gray-slop" aesthetic of modern streaming movies. Donkey Skin is a riot of color. It’s also surprisingly funny. The song "Recette pour un cake d'amour" (Recipe for a Love Cake) is basically a musical instruction manual on how to bake a cake, and it’s unironically a bop.
The film has influenced everyone from Anna Biller (who directed The Love Witch) to Greta Gerwig. You can see its DNA in the saturated pinks of the Barbie movie.
Actionable insights for your first watch:
- Watch the Criterion Collection version. The 2K restoration is the only way to see those blues and reds the way Demy intended. The old VHS rips look like mud.
- Listen to the lyrics. Michel Legrand’s music is catchy, but the lyrics (written by Demy) are often sarcastic or deeply sad.
- Look for Jim Morrison. Random fact: The lead singer of The Doors was friends with Demy and visited the set at Chambord. There’s behind-the-scenes footage of him hanging out with the cast.
- Don't expect "logic." Fairy tale logic is different. People accept blue skin and gold-pooping donkeys without question. Just roll with it.
If you want to understand French cinema beyond just Amélie, this is a mandatory stop. It's weird, it's beautiful, and it's definitely the only movie where you'll see Catherine Deneuve hiding in a barn wearing a dead animal's head while singing about fate.