Micmacs

Things haven’t run all that smoothly for Jean-Pierre Jeunet since the international breakthrough success of Amelie. For all the imaginative visual splendour that his films offer, the director’s weaknesses in the area of plotting and the development of character arcs were more evident in its follow-up A Very Long Engagement, while his attempts to extend his Hollywood profile – one that had suffered after his taking over the reins of the Alien franchise for Alien Resurrection resulted in what is widely considered (somewhat unfairly) the weakest entry in the series – has been beset with setbacks as several projects have run into difficulties and foundered, among them a proposed stint on one of the Harry Potter films and an adaptation of The Life of Pi.

Although it finally makes its way onto the screen, even Jeunet’s latest film, Micmacs à tire-larigot (a slang phrase which roughly translates as Dodgy Dealings by the Dozen) was beset with difficulties, the most problematic being a falling-out with the intended lead actor and comedian Jamel Debbouze, leaving Jeunet in the position of having to rewrite a role that had been specifically written for Debbouze to suit his replacement Dany Boon. Whether Debbouze could have brought some more personality to the rather bland and emotionally empty creation that is Bazil is debatable (the underdog role and the fantastical elements perhaps being a bit too close to the actor/comedian’s turn in Luc Besson’s Angel-A), but the problems with Micmacs à tire-larigot unfortunately go much deeper than that.


The plot is about as thin as it could possibly be. At the centre of the film is Bazil (Dany Boon), a young man who, having lost his father to a landmine explosion when on a military operation and himself having been the accidental victim of a drive-by shooting, decides that he is going to make those responsible for the production of armaments pay for the damage they have caused. With a bullet left lodged close to his brain, causing him some speech and behavioural problems, Bazil is however out of work, on the streets and lacking the resources to achieve such an aim against the two powerful men at the head of the nation’s two biggest armament manufacturers (André Dussollier and Nicolas Marié). Bazil however falls in with a group of other dropouts and social misfits, each with their own unusual talents and abilities (a situation Jeunet confesses was inspired by Toy Story). Working together, this motley outfit, with a great deal of ingenuity and a lot of junk to fashion into workable tools, aim to expose the dubious activities, shady dealings of the arms dealers and reveal the lack of humanitarian concern and the resultant horror and death that are the result of their enterprises.

The good news, at least for fans of the original partnership of Jeunet et Caro, is that although there is no reunion between the two collaborators here, Micmacs with its picture-book fantasy Paris setting and collection of grotesques, represents nonetheless a definite return back to the black-comedy and silent-movie influences of their collaborations on Delicatessen and The City of Lost Children. Delicatessen is openly referenced in one or two scenes which bring a chuckle of recognition (if not much else), but the whole look and feel of the film is perhaps a little too knowing and self-referential in this respect. The originality and freshness that marked out their debut feature is less readily indulged when the formula is repeated here, the flaws in the quirky paper-thin characterisation and plotting only becoming even more apparent.


Were it not for the director’s regular formula of one or two racy elements and a couple of quite horrific scenes involving death and mutilation caused here by the evil weapons manufacturing corporations – specifically in the scenes of Bazil’s father’s death and the graphic depiction of Bazil receiving a bullet to the head – the majority of Micmacs operates on the level of a fabulous children’s cartoon, with all the trademark Jeunet slapstick elements, wide-angle shots and elaborate visual trickery. The film looks fantastic and is often a lot of fun, the care and attention to detail that has gone into the whole fabrication of the universe evident in the smallest of details. On the whole though, particularly as this has all been done before by Jeunet, it all feels very hollow, with there never being any sense that there are any real people or emotions involved, much less any social comment about the proliferation of arms.