Reviewed by Robert Hull
Stars Dany Boon, Julie Ferrier, Dominique Pinon, Andre Dussollier, Nicolas Marie, Jean-Pierre Marielle, Yolande Moreau, Omar Sy, Michel Cremades, Marie-Julie Baup
Written by Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Guillaume Laurant
Certification UK 12A | US R
Runtime 105 minutes
Directed by Jean-Pierre Jeunet
Jean-Pierre Jeunet is a dreamer, a weaver of tall tales and fables, and a director whose movies have an evocative mix of quirky charm and bravura. His most successful works - Amelie, The City of Lost Children and Delicatessen - thrill because they revel in a what an untethered imagination can produce. When Jeunet stalls (Alien: Resurrection, A Very Long Engagement) it is often due to the demands of big-studio filmmaking and distribution. Micmacs stands among his best work … victory for the imagination.
Micmacs has been described as Delicatessen meets Amelie, and you can’t blame a lazy press for that as it comes from the director himself. He’s right, too. This is a sweet, engaging comedy with dark undertones and is driven by a superb lead performance from Dany Boon but carried aloft by an ensemble of Jeunet regulars and newcomers.
Bazil’s (Boon) life has been shaped by weapons. His father died in the Moroccan desert trying to clear landmines, then, while working at a video store, a stray bullet strikes him in the head. The bullet doesn’t kill him but lodges in his brain, a constant reminder he’s only a second away from death.
Released from hospital but homeless and jobless, Bazil is adopted by a crew of secondhand goods dealers who live in the most beguiling of Aladdin’s caves. When Bazil chances across the two weapons companies responsible for his misfortune, his gang are presented with an opportunity for revenge they can’t turn down.
There’s more than a passing resemblance between Bazil’s motley band including Elastic Girl (Ferrier), Slammer (Marielle) and Mama Chow (Moreau) and Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, and Jeunet and screenwriter Laurant have also spoken of references such as cartoon guru Tex Avery, Humphrey Bogart, Toy Story and Sergio Leone.
Beautifully lit by Tetsuo Nagata, many of Micmacs’ scenes feel almost tangibly warm but there are mauves, blues and greens on display, too – tones the director acknowledges he’s used less often in his films. What’s most arresting, though, is just how much invention there is. Whether it’s the characters’ ceaseless creativity to outwit their foes, the technical inventions that surrounded them in their cave, or the always intriguing angles Jeunet and Steadicam operator Jan Rubens put in front of you, Micmacs never wants to take the road well travelled. There’s always a different path.
Micmacs isn’t inured of criticism – you could understand those without a sweet tooth getting a sickly aftertaste, and the revenge tale is a slight premise upon which to build – but there is a wonderful joy and love to Micmacs. It’s there in the desire for you to enjoy your time in front of the cinema screen and it lies at the heart of this director’s vision: his sheer love of filmmaking. Open your eyes wide, take a deep breath and take a journey that’s borne out of sheer entertainment.