Honigmann's “political musical” takes us under the streets of Paris to discover the stories and songs of musicians on the Métro. Performing for an audience of the alternately enthralled or annoyed, these often well trained, once successful musicians have escaped political strife elsewhere, only to find themselves entertaining subway trains of grumpy commuters while dodging police sweeps and immigration patrols. An Argentinean pianist recounts the tortures that nearly destroyed his hands; a Bosnian violinist recalls being drafted straight out of the Sarajevo symphony; a Zairian singer remembers his escape from a Mobutu death camp. Joined by Romanians, Vietnamese, Malians, Venezuelans, and others, their stories tell of war and escape, and of the marginal status that is their current fate. “Music and melancholy” is the film's subheading; Honigmann captures the enthralling power of the former, showing how it both echoes and overcomes the latter, empowering yet embittering these musicians' exiles in the figurative-and literal-undergrounds of Western Europe.