Pierre Richard

  • Les compères [ComDads] (1983)

    Les compères [ComDads] (1983)

    (On TV, January 2021) A few minutes into Les compères, the premise seemed familiar. A quick search confirmed my doubts: this was the original French film on which the mid-1990s Billy Crystal/Robin William vehicle Fathers’ Day was based. The starting point is distinctive enough to be noticeable: After her son goes missing, a woman separately contacts two ex-lovers with a plausible chronological claim to their paternity, and asks them to investigate. But the narrative fun begins when the two meet and realize the trick played on them. It all becomes a vehicle for comic actors, and the French version arguably does better than the American remake in using its headliners: Here we have Pierre Richard in his usual gaffe-prone neurotic persona, paired for the second time with Gérard Depardieu (younger and thinner than we’ve grown used to), who here plays a macho journalist. The rest of the film is almost immaterial—of course they’ll find it, and, of course, the point of it all is Richard and Depardieu sparring. The nature of Les compères as a vehicle means that there’s some repetitiousness to the proceedings, but that only counts as a problem if you’re not entirely happy with the two leads. Otherwise, you get what’s on the tin: Richard goofing up, Depardieu rolling his eyes and just enough plot to give us a feature-length comedy based on that interaction.

  • La chèvre [Knock on Wood aka The Goat] (1981)

    La chèvre [Knock on Wood aka The Goat] (1981)

    (On TV, January 2021) French comedian Pierre Richard makes good use of his circa-1980s awkward persona in La chèvre, playing a gaffe-prone bad luck magnet asked to track down the daughter of a French politician gone missing in Mexico. We’re clearly not far from Le Grand Blond movies here (the characters are named the same and act the same yet otherwise aren’t supposed to be the same—call it an added comic flourish) but the added wrinkle at the time was pairing him with a relatively younger and definitely thinner Gérard Depardieu as a glum private detective reluctantly tagging along. Much of the comic nature of the film has to do with Richard getting into absurdly unlikely trouble and Depardieu groaning. Of course, the narrative has the comically stupid character figuring things before his more traditional partner, all the way to the unlikely goal of their partnership. La chèvre is a crowd-pleaser that succeeds at its comic goals—If you like Richard’s screen persona at the time, it’s built on his comic skills, and the addition of Depardieu provides a straight man to heighten the unlikely nature of the trouble he gets himself into (something that’s missing from many of Richard’s solo efforts). The pairing proved to be so effective that it was repeated twice more, albeit not quite so successfully. While La chèvre can’t escape a certain number of stereotypes by sending Frenchmen in Mexico, it’s not hard to watch, and it ends on a somewhat good note.

  • C’est pas moi, c’est lui (1980)

    C’est pas moi, c’est lui (1980)

    (On Cable TV, December 2020) Pierre Richard strikes back as a hapless gaffe-prone protagonist in C’est pas moi, c’est lui: Playing a frustrated ghostwriter-screenwriter who gets the bright idea of passing himself off as someone else in order to get recognition for his work, he soon finds himself in Northern Africa, tangled in a mess of assumed identities and double-crossing associates. If you’re familiar with Richard’s screen persona, this is a pure undiluted take on it — slightly enhanced by how the character, even if clumsy and awkward, is clearly competent in his field. (One of the film’s most clever scenes has the character outwitting repossession officers through rule-bending and a bit of physical comedy.) The film can also rely on more than the physical comedy for laughs – the identity-confusion material is good for more than a few laughs, and the foreigner-out-of-his-element is also good. Unfortunately, the film ends on an underwhelming note, as the character spends far too long away from his pregnant fiancée, and escapes captivity through a bit of unnecessary violence. Otherwise, there’s plenty to laugh about here – the scene where he keeps puncturing absurdly inflated sofas is memorable. In many ways, though, C’est pas moi, c’est lui does suffer from being so similar to other Richard movies – if it’s the first one you’ve seen, you’re guaranteed to have fun. If it’s the fifth or sixth, well, you may want to space them out for greater impact.

  • Le retour du grand blond [The Return of the Tall Blond Man with One Black Shoe] (1974)

    Le retour du grand blond [The Return of the Tall Blond Man with One Black Shoe] (1974)

    (In French, On Cable TV, June 2020) Well, you can’t accuse the filmmakers behind Le retour du grand blond of not delivering what the audiences are asking for—the film insistently returns to what made the first film Le grand blond avec une chaussure noire funny and doesn’t bring many new ideas to the table. As a result, this sequel quickly runs out of energy: even the primary “twist” of the sequel, having the protagonist play the secret agent he’s not supposed to be, doesn’t feel like a particularly good idea. (There is more plot here than in the first film, but it’s not necessarily better.) Pierre Richard once again gives his best to the film, but the material he’s served doesn’t recapture what made the first film so enjoyable. Oh, there are funny moments here and there—and the film is certainly watchable—but Le retour du grand blond really feels like most sequels: one more hurrah, but without the spark.

  • Le grand blond avec une chaussure noire [The Tall Blond Man with One Black Shoe] (1972)

    Le grand blond avec une chaussure noire [The Tall Blond Man with One Black Shoe] (1972)

    (In French, On Cable TV, June 2020) While the French comedy Le grand blond avec une chaussure noire is a well-constructed film from the get-go, it’s impossible to watch today without feeling that all of it depends on Pierre Richard’s lead performance. He seems uniquely suited to the role of a gaffe-prone violinist who gets unknowingly dragged into the great deadly game of espionage. His befuddlement is hilarious, and he plays the material he’s given so convincingly that you’ll nearly forget the slickness of the script, the unobtrusive talent of writer-director Yves Robert, or the decent production means invested in the film. A further proof of Richard’s domination of the role is found in the American remake, The Man with One Red Shoe, which stars the capable Tom Hanks and features even better production means, but can’t quite reach the comedy of the original. It’s all quite silly, faster paced than many comedies of the era, and features Mireille Darc in a jaw-dropping dress. French comedy is often pretty good, but Le grand blond avec une chaussure noire is even better than most.