The Great Spy Chase Blu-ray Review
Bonde. Jean Bonde.
Reviewed by Jeffrey Kauffman, March 4, 2013
The term "British humor" gets bandied about with a fair amount of regularity, but what exactly
is so-called British
humor? Is it fair to lump Benny Hill in with Tom Stoppard? Do
Monty Python and P.G. Wodehouse belong in the
same category? These examples merely point out the sometimes futile attempts to easily classify things in an easily
understandable group, but they might also help to illuminate a somewhat related question, namely is there such a thing
as
French humor? That question is a salient query with regard to
The Great Spy Chase (released in France
under the title
Les Bourbouzes), for this parody of James Bond-esque adventures has a distinctly Gallic flavor,
though some (including this reviewer) would be hard pressed to adequately describe just
what that flavor is.
Without coming to any huge, overweening general conclusions, a lot of
The Great Spy Chase features a rather
childlike, even cartoonish, ambience, that sees a bunch of international espionage agents going after each other with a
variety of mechanisms that might have come directly out of an old Tex Avery Looney Tune. We see exploding toilets,
showers that drip acid, scorpions in beds, and falling chandeliers (shades of
Phantom of the Opera) that have
deadly spikes attached, all of which are greeted with a fair amount of fist shaking, grimacing and other patently silly
reactions that may or may not be your particular cup of tea (or whatever French folks drink). The film has a certain lunatic
charm that can't be denied, but I have to admit I felt myself smiling wryly more than laughing out loud throughout vast
swaths of this picture.
The famous Hercule Poirot mystery
Murder on the Orient Express has nothing on the train ride that starts
The Great Spy
Chase out with quite a little flourish. We see an ever increasing panoply of spies from obviously different ethnic
and/or national backgrounds slowly but surely kill each other. This is played out in a sort of "domino effect", where Spy
A
is killed by Spy B, only to have Spy C come along and kill Spy A. This continues unabated for several minutes through
several more letters of the alphabet (as it were) with a variety
of techniques which vary from stabbing to shooting to poison gas to simply pushing one poor hapless fellow off the
train
through an open door. After this rather shocking assemblage of deaths, we segue to what must have been the reason
for all this nefarious activity—some sort of official personage who has been on the train and who is squirreled off of it
amidst the mayhem (which frankly continues even as the unaware official makes his way to his waiting limousine). The
punch line to all of this is that official himself is soon dead, albeit for slightly less overtly evil reasons. After having left
the
train, this "gentleman" visits a bordello and expires during his "adventures" there.
Finally, several minutes into
The Great Spy Chase, after having been introduced to several
more
international men of mystery, we get to the nuts and bolts of the plot. It turns out that the dead bordello client was a
notorious arms dealer, and because this man knew that nuclear holocaust would put an end to
his client base,
he had been scooping up patents right and left for the most horrible weapons of mass destruction (this of course raises
an ancillary question as to whether nuclear bombs are patentable, but I digress). The French Intelligence Agency
wants those patents very badly, and they send their crack agent Francis Lagneau (Lino Ventura,
Greed in the Sun,
Monsieur Gangster) to try to
retrieve them from the dead guy's widow.
Lagneau retrieves the dead guy's body from the bordello and gets it back to the widow, at which point he discovers she
is not some middle aged matron but a rather buxom (and scantily clad—hey, it's a
French film) young blonde
named Amaranthe (Mireille Darc). He also discovers he is of course not the only secret agent who has been charged
with retrieving the patents, and soon the widow's home is literally overrun with a bunch of various spies, all of whom
have adopted alter egos to help worm their way into the widow's heart. Lagneau himself is pretending to be the dead
guy's favorite cousin, while other agents pretend to be a priest, a doctor, and a surrogate father of sorts. It's all
patently ridiculous, but it's part of the peculiar charm of this film, which often plays like a cross between Benny Hill (that
iconic "British humor-ist") and second tier Mel Brooks.
While dealing with the various other spies who show up at the palatial mansion (including a pretty funny American, who
is all about "showing the widow the money"), Lagneau of course finds himself attracted to the pretty young woman,
despite the fact that's he's already married. This being a French film, that isn't the problem it might otherwise be, and
in fact Lagneau's bosses end up encouraging a relationship which they hope will further their aims to retrieve the
valuable patents from the widow.
It's kind of ironic that this film features dialogue by the great Michel Audiard, who also provided the dialogue for the two
Ventura films linked to above in this review. Audiard was a master of neat little character beats delivered in sometimes
piquant, even snarky, interchanges between characters. What's ironic here is that the dialogue is almost unnecessary,
and in fact in some ways is absolutely intrusive, into what is otherwise almost a silent film built up on sight gags and
physical humor. Who cares if the agents argue amongst themselves about who's to blame for various "mishaps"
they've all just managed to escape? What generates the laughs here
are those very mishaps.
The Great Spy Chase is one of those films that you simply need to surrender to on its own terms in order to
enjoy its admittedly manic charms. There's nothing even slightly intellectual about most of the humor in this film—this is
resolutely about people slipping on banana peels or getting hit with a pie in the face. And in that regard, this is true
universal humor, albeit with a slightly French accent.