Cult Review
Senior Film Conservator
If you like old French comedies that move at the speed of a caffeinated squirrel, maybe. If you need a plot that makes sense, or even one that stays in the same room for more than five minutes, you will probably hate this.
It’s definitely for the crowd that enjoys pure, unfiltered nonsense. You know, the kind of movie where doors are slammed every thirty seconds.
The whole thing feels like a stage play that someone forgot to edit. There’s a scene early on—I think it’s in an office, or maybe a hallway?—where Jules Berry is just running his mouth and I completely lost track of who was mad at who. It didn’t matter.
Sometimes the movie gets noticeably better when it stops trying to explain the financial stakes. Who cares about the money? Just let these people yell at each other in fancy hats.
There is an oddly specific moment involving a hat rack that I’m convinced was an accident. The actor just... hit it, and it fell over, but they kept it in the final cut. It’s the most honest thing in the movie.
It’s not as dark as Freaks—thank god—but it shares that same weird, claustrophobic energy where you feel like you're trapped in a room with people who have too much energy. It’s a bit like watching a frantic version of La marche nuptiale, if that film had decided to chug three espressos and lose its mind.
The movie is thin, sure. It doesn't have the weight of Stark Love or the quiet rhythm of Pierrot, Pierrette. But sometimes you don't want a heavy message. You want to see someone trip over a rug while trying to lie to their boss. 🎬
It’s an imperfect watch. The sound is a bit scratchy, and some of the extras clearly had nowhere to be, but it has a pulse. That's more than I can say for a lot of stuff coming out today. Just don't ask me to explain the ending. I think I fell asleep for ten seconds and woke up and everything was fine, so, you know. 🤷♂️

Year
1935
IMDb Rating
—

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