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Harvey and Bob Weinstein reenergized independent film in the late 1980s and 1990s at their old haunt, Miramax, bringing edgy, entertaining goodies like sex, lies, and videotape and Pulp Fiction to the masses. If the Miramax logo appeared before a movie, you were in for something funky.
Then, in 1998, Miramax released the terrific costume
comedy-drama Shakespeare in Love. It made a ton of money, won seven
Oscars, and completely changed the movie moguls' game plan. Though there are exceptions, what the brothers
now distribute at the Weinstein Company could be described as prestigious
schmaltz. It's geared toward Oscar votes and family outings. Sometimes the
approach works (The King's Speech). Sometimes it doesn't (My Week with
Marilyn, Bully). When the TWC logo appears, I usually know what to expect.
It's like eating at a chain restaurant.
Remember, McDonald's is overseas, too. TWC has imported the viva
life comedy-drama The Intouchables, a commercial and critical
smash in France, stateside. It's life affirming and endearing in such a
predictable, unoriginal way that those qualities are practically manufactured.
I can't decide if writer-directors Olivier Nakache and Eric Toledano are lazy
or savvy.
Senegal native Driss (Omar Sy) returns to the rough side of
Paris after six months in prison. To stay on the good side of bureaucracy, he
goes on job interviews. One takes him to the nice side of town, where wealthy,
white quadriplegic Philippe (Francois Cluzet) needs a new caretaker. Fed
up waiting with a hoard of well-dressed, somber-faced applicants, Driss barges
into the interview room. When asked for references, Driss responds with Kool
and the Gang and Earth Wind & Fire. He sexually harasses Philippe's comely
assistant (Audrey Fleurot) and shows no regard for his potential employer's
condition. "Don't get up," Driss says as he leaves the office,
assured that his government papers will be signed the next morning.
Driss returns to find he's gotten the job. The young man is
skeptical—Philippe is tough to please, the work is challenging—but he needs
housing, and the accommodations are palatial. And that sexy assistant is
around. Driss is a terrible caretaker, but he responds to Philippe with
emotions beyond pity or reverence, barriers others erect because of Philippe's
financial and physical conditions. Driss comments that a piece of pricey modern
art looks like a nosebleed; he denies Philippe's request for sweets by saying,
"No handy, no candy." He can tell Philippe that his spoiled daughter
treats the staff poorly and that six months of poetry to his longtime,
flirtatious pen pal is enough. When Driss looks out for Philippe's best
interests, it's not just a line in a cover letter.
Inspired by a true story, The Intouchables flourishes
when Driss brings his real world bluntness to Philippe's well-funded, isolated
world. There's a beautiful scene where Driss takes Philippe out after-hours.
The two swap stories in a café, and you see the men letting their guards down,
testing the waters of a friendship. Nakache and Toledano prefer to explore more
placid bodies of water. As the movie progresses, Sy devours more screen time.
Driss is clearly the actor's star-making turn, and with a good reason: Even
with a language barrier, Sy is a rapid-fire charmer. But the mugging obscures
how Philippe affects Driss, portraying the friendship as working in one
direction. Good friendships don't work that way.
With that issue unresolved, the movie happily becomes another
fish out of water tale, like Trading Places or The Fresh Prince of
Bel-Air. A rich man's life gets turned upside down by streetwise smart
aleck who cuts through all the pomp and circumstance. This classical music is
from a coffee commercial! German opera is so lame! Now let's put on
"Boogie Wonderland" and get this party moving. These scenes are funny
when Eddie Murphy is infiltrating Philadelphia's upper crust, but in The
Intouchables they are out of place, even insulting.
The filmmakers don't know how to deal with Driss or Philippe
beyond labels. Driss' family problems are handled with the urgency of a
Caribbean honeymoon. Philippe doesn't do much but complain: about his dead
wife, his boring family, Driss' unfortunate replacement. He has that miserable
teenage daughter he barely acknowledges. Nakache and Toledano flood the screen
with activities—paragliding, a sing-a-long to "September," a trim
that turns Philippe's beard into a Hitler moustache—that we almost believe the
film portrays an unusual, lovely friendship. It's not about these men, but
using them to provide the illusion of substance. The Intouchables is
really a soft-focus infomercial about living life to the fullest. No wonder the
Weinstein brothers got their hands on it. [R]
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