He has become the favorite antihero of the French.
Since Michel Hazanavicius transformed the conventional spy novels of Jean Bruce into a breathtaking parody of
James Bond
, mixed with Hitchcock and Belmondo, in fifteen years, our compatriots have adopted Hubert Bonisseur de La Bath (alias Jean Dujardin), as they had done it with Cyrano and Asterix.
He's a fop, boastful, blundering, bulky, but, who knows why, madly endearing.
His lines have entered anthologies:
"Some people have adventures, I am an adventure."
So where does the incredible favor he enjoys come from?
Watching
OSS 117
is to re-examine an era in technicolor: we are immersed in the second part of the 20th century, and there emanates an irrepressible fragrance of nostalgia.
The world of yesterday is surely dreamed of, sublimated there, but it is doing well, judging by the cars, the interiors, the elegance of the men and women who cross the road of our very, very special agent.
Were it not for the escapades
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