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Last week I took myself off to see a film called Enfermes dehors, starring Albert Dupontel (who also wrote and directed) as a glue-sniffing tramp - or clochard - who dresses in police uniform. While the results weren't as hilarious as I thought they should have been, it was notable that the gags that went down best with the audience were slapstick ones, such as when Dupontel bumps into a lamp-post.
While the French language, with its abundance of homonyms, lends itself to wordplay, cerebral humour is offset by the way even intellectuals tend to be fans of, say, Benny Hill.
I have seen grown men weep tears of mirth over La Soupe Aux Choux, in which Louis de Funes plays a farting peasant who meets an alien from outer space. De Funes's gurning makes Jerry Lewis look subtle, which means, of course, that he's France's
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Cerebral humour is offset by the way even intellectuals tend to be fans of, say, Benny Hill
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best-loved comic actor; when I asked a female friend why she'd turned up at a Halloween party wearing a beard, she explained it was a homage to his role in Les Aventures de Rabbi Jacob.
There's a trio of low-brow comedies one could not possibly live in France without seeing; they're always on TV and French people are forever quoting from them. Les Bronzes and Les Bronzes Font Du Ski are set in Club Med resorts; in Le Pere Noel Est Une ordure, the same cast play Samaritans on suicide watch.
I may finally be getting the hang of it; the last time I watched Les Bronzes Font Du Ski, I actually chuckled when les bronzes were forced to eat maggoty stew. Next thing you know, I'll be laughing when they bump into lamp-posts. 
FIRST POSTED APRIL 19, 2006
 Last week: What the French know about wine |
