Lyon, 1961. The young Émile (Jules Lefebvre) drinks the words of his father (Benoît Poelvoorde), who tells him about his crazy youthful adventures, but above all instills in him his vision of politics and of France. A France of which Algeria is part. This father, who was in turn a parachutist, ace of war, founder of the Compagnons de la chanson, decides to enter into resistance so that Algeria remains French and begins to entrust missions to his son in the name of the Organization. of the Secret Army, better known by the initials OAS. From tagging names on the walls, these missions will increase in importance, to the point of fomenting an attack against General de Gaulle.
Director Jean-Pierre Améris (The emotional anonymous) adapts the best-selling book by Sorj Chalandon, inspired by his own childhood under the authority of a mythomaniac father. And who else to play this character of the father than Benoît Poelvoorde. This is also the third collaboration between Améris and the Belgian actor. Poelvoorde, actor stamped comedy – not always in the best taste -, changes register. But before being a comedic actor, he’s mostly a born huckster, perfect for the role.
This one puts his unwavering internal electric battery at the service of this father in permanent tension, bouncing on each disappointment of reality to build a new story. A great find also that the young Jules Lefebvre to interpret Émile, who touched us by his face, sometimes admiring, sometimes afraid. Because this father whom he admires so much terrifies him too.
It is this “I love you, me neither” and the always more incoherent lies of the father that we will follow throughout the film, more than the missions of Émile. The progress of the feature film suffers as a result. The too slow pacing makes half of the film an intro to the main plot, itself sloppy when it should have carried the dramatic progression to a climax. What a disappointment that the climax, which falls flat for lack of intensity in the framing. And, surprisingly, too, in the game of Poelvoorde, something we never thought we would see happen. To make matters worse, the editing has also forgotten its dynamism in the locker room. In addition, he abuses black fades that are more tiresome than burdensome. Worse still, it does not do justice to the game of Benoît Poelvoorde, who does not support softness.
The wonder of childhood struggles to find a place in history and finally barely appears in the image. It is a great pity because to dwell on the snatches of innocence that little Émile managed to keep could have brought relief and contrast to the story. A few notes of tenderness support the son’s point of view, the film’s narrative thread, but they do not go far enough to fully bring out the gravity of the situation. Only a few scenes get away with it, like that of Émile’s enthronement as an OAS soldier by his father. This merges the child’s play, against a background of light martial melody, and the dramatic peak, which are as one in the child’s head.
The reconstruction of the time is cruelly lacking in scope. The production is limited to the essentials in terms of sets and characters in costumes, sprinkled with a few archival images to give a little context to the whole. Next to that, the streets of Lyon – periods of confinement aside – have never been so deserted. In short, it is hard to believe that the whole of France is tearing itself apart on the question of the colonies.
Despite excellent raw material and a Poelvoorde in a role that could be tailor-made if it wasn’t pre-existing, this wobbly adaptation doesn’t do justice to its best elements.