Summary
Félicien Mézeray, a wealthy art dealer, discovers a priceless Modigliani,
tattooed on the back of an ageing legionnaire, Legrain. The latter agrees to sell
the tattoo if Mézeray agrees to renovate his country house. The house turns
out to be a ruined sixteenth century chateau, but so keen is he to acquire the tattoo
that Mézeray agrees to Legrain’s terms. The legionnaire then begins to suspect
that the art dealer may be more ruthless than he appears...
Review
Although undoubtedly great family entertainment, Le Tatoué is really nothing
more than a clumsy vehicle to unite Louis de Funès with Jean Gabin, following a
dubious fashion in French cinema at the time to pair off stars of the highest echelon.
De Funès had by
the time this film was made become the most popular comic actor in France, adored by the
public and film-makers alike. He excelled in burlesque comedies like Le Tatoué
, having the capacity to inject tremendous comic energy into the most risible and
lacklustre of scenarios. By contrast, Jean Gabin’s career was very much on the wane.
Having been arguably the greatest actor in French cinema in the 1930s and 1950s, Gabin
ended his career in a serious of stilted roles which did not show the actor at his best.
These include appearances in a number of ill-conceived comedies, of which Le Tatoué
is a good example.
Le Tatoué shows
us Louis De Funès on fine form, almost bursting off the screen with his enthusiasm
and good humour. Jean Gabin is the complete oppopsite, probably at his most
withdrawn and non-committal, although, oddly, this seems to work quite well. It
is not difficult to detect a certain luke-warmness in the on-screen rapport between the
two actors. It transpires that part of the reason for this was the poor working
relationship between the two actors, who failed to see eye to eye on virtually anything.
It is reported that they hardly spoke to each other once off the set and that Gabin was
easily unsettled by de Funès’s never-ceasing stream of improvisations.
In spite of all this,
miraculously, the film still has great entertainment value – due almost entirely to de
Funès’ unique brand of comedy and also Georges Garvarentz’s perky music.
Any attempt to rationalise the plot or to analyse the relationship between the two lead
characters is doomed to failure. The best thing is to sit back and just enjoy the
film for what it is – an effervescent camp French comedy from the colourful 1960s.
© James Travers 2001
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