THE TASTE OF OTHERS (Le gout des autres)
Reviewed by Harvey Karten Artistic License Films/ Offline Releasing Director: Agnes Jaoui Writer: Agnes Jaoui, Jean-Pierre Bacri Cast: Anne Alvaro, Jean-Pierre Bacri, Alain Chabat, Agnes Jaoui, Gerard Lanvin, Christian Miller
Racine meets Moliere in the utterly delightful French comedy of manners co-written and directed by Agnes Jaoui-- who also turns in a crackerjack performance as a hashish- peddling bartender together with her real-life husband and film's co-writer Jean-Pierre Bacri. This French entry into the Oscar competition blends parody and affliction so seamlessly that members of any audience fortunate enough to watch the story may effortlessly identify with the poignancy of the principal character's condition while at the same time smile broadly at the way he boorishly tries to fit in with a crowd whose breeding is so different from his own.
Filmed in Rouen, "The Taste of Others" (or, if you prefer, "Le gout des autres") highlights the tribulations of successful businessman Castella (Jean-Pierre Bacri), married to a neurotic interior decorator, Angelique (Christiane Miller)--a dog-owning woman whose taste in home decor is as excessive as is preference for animals to human beings. Bourgeois in her desire to attend performances of artsy plays by the likes of Racine--though neither liking nor understanding their purport--she drags her reluctant husband to a performance of "Berenice," at which time he becomes swiftly and grandly infatuated with its title character played by the 40-year-old Clara (Anne Alvaro). Determined to press his suit with her, he propels himself into her world of actors, director, and crew and despite their attempts to get rid of him. They regularly make fun of his philistinism and ultimately exploit him for his money, the starry-eyed executive sees no evil.
Jaoui imbues the screen with an ensemble of Castella's satellites, including his bored bodyguard Moreno (Gerard Lanvin) and his chauffer, Deschamps (Alain Chabat)--both of whom pursue an affair with Manie, an independent-minded barmaid (Agnes Jaoui) who would like to be married. She is reluctant, however, to accept the proposal of a conventional man whom she likes but who'd insist on transforming her from a popular barkeep and hashish dealer into a housekeeper who'd devote her years to taking care of his children. Among the miserable characters, Clara shrugs off the applause of her theater fans, depressed by her inability to find a father for the children she would like to have.
Any among us who have ever been embarrassed by a friend who acts inappropriately in our presence--by telling scatalogical jokes to a group of cultivated people more interested in discussing Ibsen or by casually and obliviously insulting gays while in the presence of a couple of homosexuals--will treasure Bacri's appearance at the table of a crew of aesthetes. They scoff at his boorish choice of expressions while at the same time leaving him clueless about the source of their animosity. The ensemble is so sublime that we'd have difficulty singling out any of the players for special merit. Jaoui's carefree demeanor is contrasted with Alvaro's nervous energy while Bacri's churlishness contradicts the grace and artistic intelligence of the theater company.
Ms. Jaoui had intimated in an interview communicated in the production notes that no matter how open-minded we'd like to think we all are, we can expect any attempts on our part to cross social borders mighty difficult if not heartbreaking. She adds that from the time we've all been in grade school we've tried to fit into one clique or another, occasionally getting rejected while clueless about the cause. As we look back on the so-called good-old days of our youth- -a time actually charged with heartbreaks and pathos--we can perhaps grin at our naivete, our grandiosity in believing that everyone would love us as much as did our mothers. Distancing ourselves from the afflictions of our youth, we Monday morning quarterbacks can now react with greater understanding of the errors of our ways. Mercifully, time heals, but for the mostly hapless folks who populate Ms. Jaoui's wonderful film with its exquisitely observed personalities, the taste of others has been bittersweet at best.
Not Rated. Running time: 112 minutes. (C) 2000 by Harvey Karten, film_critic@compuserve.com
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