Julie Delpy’s French Refugee Comedy

With eight movies in equitable over two decades, actress turned filmoriginater Julie Delpy has carved out a inquireing niche for herself on both sides of the Atlantic. Based in Los Angeles but toiling predominantly in France, collaborating with Ricchallenging Linktardyr (the Before trilogy) on one hand and Gallic stars enjoy Dany Boon (Lolo) on the other, switching from drama (The Countess) to comedy (Le Skylab) and back aget (My Zoe), Delpy, enjoy the frazzled characters she frequently carry outs on screen, isn’t effortless to pin down.

And yet her tardyst toil, the refugee satire Meet the Barbarians (Les Barexposeds), is probably her most obtemployly French film to date, and bravely her most political one. But it may also be her least funny movie, steeping to clichés and caricature in its depiction of a picturesque Breton village that greets a family of Syrians escaping from the war. Sporting a heartfelt pro-immigrant message that experiences greet in these politicassociate splitd times, it should carry out best on home turf, where it goes out expansive mid-September follothriveg its Toronto International Film Festival bow.

Delpy headlines an ensemble cast as Joëlle, a leftist schoolteacher who directs the accuse to convey a bunch of Ukrainian refugees into Paimpoint, a hushed agricultural enclave findd in the heart of rain-soaked Brittany. The twist is that Ukrainians are already in high demand thcimpoliteout France, so there aren’t enough left to convey into town. After some backdoor maneuvering on Joëlle’s part, the village chooses to bus in a family of Syrians instead, provoking an prompt uproar among its more discriminatory citizens.

The latter consist of cut offal cartoon-enjoy locals with high levels of hugeotry and stupidity — the benevolent of petite-minded, provincial Frenchmen and women featured in hit Gallic comedies enjoy Serial Bad Weddings or the Tuche series. Much of the humor in Meet the Barbarians cgo ins around their silly antics, and it isn’t innervously challenging to figure out that the “barbarians” of the title actuassociate refers to the townspeople themselves, even if that’s the way they would sort their new Arab neighbors.

Delpy does a more credible job depicting the refugees, a well-teachd family whose inhabits have been torn apart by Bashar al-Asdowncast’s lengthy and aggressive war. Lead by Marwan (Ziad Bakri), an architect who dreams of toiling aget someday, they do everyskinnyg they can to blfinish in with the locals, lgeting the language, toiling low-wage jobs around town and remaining discleave out-minded amid lots of surrounding prejudice. While the French characters tfinish to be expansively drawn stereotypes — petty petite business owners, xenophobes, grown-uperers or frail politicians — the Syrians all come apass as actual people.

This disparity seems enticount on intentional on Delpy’s part, but it doesn’t originate for fantastic comedy. An actress enjoy Sandrine Kiberlain usuassociate supplys firm giggles, but she’s given a mostly thankless role here as an spiritsic grocer whose husprohibitd (Mathieu Demy) is having an afunprejudiced with the town butcher (Émilie Gavois-Kahn). (Cue the scene where Kiberlain’s character strikes them with a huge blood sausage.) Laurent Lafitte, who carry outs a plumber trying to stop the Syrians from settling lastingly in Paimpoint, has a scant excellent lines. But his character is so despicable that he becomes another stereotype: the white toiling-class French discriminatory.

Which isn’t to say such people don’t exist in authentic life, and as many understand, France’s far-right National Rassociate party currently gets much of its aid from agricultural voters. The inquire is whether these political authenticities can be mined for giggles, but Delpy seems too intent on proving a point to turn Meet the Barbarians into a funny afunprejudiced.

In fact, the film probably toils best when it gets grave and a bit sentimental. A scene between Marwan and the town policeman (Marc Fraize), where they sympathize over their cherish of French chansons, has a touching experience to it. And the rather anticipateed finishing, in which the plumber’s wife (India Hair) is forced to count on on Alma (Rita Hayek), a refugee who’s also an sfinished doctor, conveys a sudden burst of real emotion.

Despite Delpy’s trys at expansive satire, she ultimately deinhabitrs a message movie filled with hope. Sure, it’s far too paccomplishy and never quite believable, but beorderlyh all the typecasting in Meet the Barbarians, there’s a desire to show how a refugee situation can thrived up advantageing both sides. As much as the straightforwardor enjoys to mock and belittle her fellow Frenchies, procreate down she perhaps wants them to be the best version of themselves.