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Cédric Klapisch’s new film, Colours of Time, is an entertaining sentimental fantasy that invents a romantic backstory to the career of Claude Monet and his contemporary, the pioneering photographer Félix Nadar. The film follows Adèle, a fictional young woman who makes a fateful journey to find her errant mother in Paris during the belle époque, leaving behind her sweetheart and the village where she was brought up, in the countryside near Monet’s home town of Le Havre.The story intercuts enjoyably between past and present, as Adèle's life and times are rediscovered by her descendants. In the present day, dozens of descendants of Adèle are contacted by lawyers and PRs working for a property company that wants to build a vast new shopping mall, which would mean bulldozing Adèle’s derelict cottage. This garrulous ragtag bunch must give their collective consent, leading to a journey of discovery that uncovers historical secrets: photos, letters, and even what might be a painting.The film takes a pretty un-subversive view of art and artists but is executed with brio and comic gusto, particularly in the “past” sections. Suzanne Lindon’s performance has charm, and the detective work is interspersed ingeniously with what Adèle in her own day discovers about her errant mother. The film culminates in a wacky climax when the present-day claimants have an Ayahuasca psychoactive experience, sending them back in time to encounter historical culture icons in person at an exhibition.Colours of Time is a film that requires a sweet tooth, but it’s tasty. It’s set to hit UK cinemas from 17 April.

As its title suggests, this musical about Claude Monet is full of reflections – fittingly so given the artist's preoccupation with light. In 1916, while struggling to complete The Water Lilies with cataracts, the ageing painter (Jeff Shankley) retreats into memories of his early career. His single-minded younger self (Dean John-Wilson) may be about to change art forever, but looking back, all Monet sees is the personal cost of his drive, particularly his mistreatment of his first wife, muse and mother of his children, Camille (Brooke Bazarian).For a man usually defined by his success, this alternative reflection is refreshing. Also bouncing back at Monet are his peers' struggles, the artistic establishment's dismissal of impressionism, and art's relationship to war and women. So abundant are these reflections, in fact, that Carmel Owen's ambitious book at times becomes a house of mirrors – enticing but with a distractingly split focus.There are certainly strengths, though, not least Libby Todd's set: a floor-to-ceiling jumble of empty canvases, which fill with huge impressionist paintings, vivid washes of coloured light and animated backdrops rendered in flickering brushstrokes. It's an invitation to step inside the artistic movement that favoured feeling over realism.Director Christian Durham has an accomplished cast on his hands. Shankley brings moving introspection (and a brilliant turn as a sniffy Paris salon clerk), while Bazarian and John-Wilson deliver standout singing on a stage full of mighty voices. Their connection, however, is outshone by those between young Monet and his fellow impressionist upstarts Bazille (a lovable Ritesh Manugula) and Renoir (a breezy Sam Peggs), whose moments together are the show's strongest. They fizz with the impatience of young rebellion, and their bickering, which provides much-needed moments of gentle humour, gives way to genuine devotion.An excellent eight-piece orchestra takes on Owen's songs, which lead us aptly through the story's tonal beats – lush strings for young love; jaunty woodwind for bantering artists. But none are distinctive enough to reach the heights of "hum it all the way home".Like Monet's, this musical's ambition sometimes comes at a cost, but it still lands in a place of beauty and deep feeling.