No one can accuse this movie of being slow. All the multiple car chases aside, the editing is fast, the unexpected incidents are piled one atop the other, and the speech is REALLY fast. I think I read somewhere that the French take the palm when it comes to syllables per minute in the Indo-European League.
Naceri is a brand new taxi driver who unwittingly takes a police officer for a quick spin at 120 klicks in a 30 zone. His punishment is to be swept up as a driver in the police man hunt for the Mercedes gang, a handful of Germans who drive scarlet Mercedes to each of their bank robberies and somehow escape.
The police are constantly calling Naceri in for emergencies, interrupting his love-making with his girl, Marion Cotillard. The police detective, Diefenthal, is similarly interrupted at awkward times. Naceri finally figures out how the gang is pulling these stunts off -- it's a little tricky -- and out-drives and out-wits them, seeing to it that they're captured. Naceri and Diefenthal both receive decorations. Naceri is finally able to get together with his girl and Diefenthal, a schlub who has discovered self confidence, gets to make it with the blond giantess who works in his office.
I was confused part of the time but laughed out loud thrice. I'm laughing as I write this because I'm replaying one of the lesser gags in my head. We've all seen vintage cop movies in which the police cars rush seriatim from their underground garage through a narrow doorway, sirens screaming. We see it here too, except that after a few police cars rush out of the garage door, two of them try to squeeze through at the same time and come to a sudden stop after crunching together side by side. It only lasts a few seconds but in this film nothing lasts much longer than that.
I was a little disappointed though. The chief reason I watched this was the presence of Marion Cotillard, a sexy little gamin. I used to be in love with Madonna but it was, I now realize, only a "crush." Now my tastes have matured and I love Marion Cotillard. I have sent her innumerable billets doux and have received no answers. The girl is probably too shy, too reserved, to respond to my declarations of undying love. I enjoyed her presence immensely in "Public Enemies", in which she was a half-Indian French Canadian. Here, I'm afraid, her part is too small and she wears far too many hampering garments.
The rest of the cast is just fine, in the sense that they can all speak more quickly than I can think. And, my God, you have never seen so many glossy new cars smashed to pieces on roads and highways. It's worse than L. A.
Well, I'll give you another gag, just to add some of what the Japanese call the fifth sense of taste, savoriness or "umami", partly because I like that word. Diefenthal burns his house down by accident and he brings his mother over to Naceri's house to stay for a while. Naceri must leave his dissolute young girl friend with his elderly woman who enjoys only cooking. The two men must leave, but Cotillard is anxious because she and the other woman have absolutely nothing in common, so how can they talk? When the men return, hours later, they find both ladies laughing in an unbuttoned manner because they are thoroughly stoned on some Jamaican grass.
If you don't expect a masterpiece and if you're prepared to pay close attention, you'll find this a successful mood-lifter.
Naceri is a brand new taxi driver who unwittingly takes a police officer for a quick spin at 120 klicks in a 30 zone. His punishment is to be swept up as a driver in the police man hunt for the Mercedes gang, a handful of Germans who drive scarlet Mercedes to each of their bank robberies and somehow escape.
The police are constantly calling Naceri in for emergencies, interrupting his love-making with his girl, Marion Cotillard. The police detective, Diefenthal, is similarly interrupted at awkward times. Naceri finally figures out how the gang is pulling these stunts off -- it's a little tricky -- and out-drives and out-wits them, seeing to it that they're captured. Naceri and Diefenthal both receive decorations. Naceri is finally able to get together with his girl and Diefenthal, a schlub who has discovered self confidence, gets to make it with the blond giantess who works in his office.
I was confused part of the time but laughed out loud thrice. I'm laughing as I write this because I'm replaying one of the lesser gags in my head. We've all seen vintage cop movies in which the police cars rush seriatim from their underground garage through a narrow doorway, sirens screaming. We see it here too, except that after a few police cars rush out of the garage door, two of them try to squeeze through at the same time and come to a sudden stop after crunching together side by side. It only lasts a few seconds but in this film nothing lasts much longer than that.
I was a little disappointed though. The chief reason I watched this was the presence of Marion Cotillard, a sexy little gamin. I used to be in love with Madonna but it was, I now realize, only a "crush." Now my tastes have matured and I love Marion Cotillard. I have sent her innumerable billets doux and have received no answers. The girl is probably too shy, too reserved, to respond to my declarations of undying love. I enjoyed her presence immensely in "Public Enemies", in which she was a half-Indian French Canadian. Here, I'm afraid, her part is too small and she wears far too many hampering garments.
The rest of the cast is just fine, in the sense that they can all speak more quickly than I can think. And, my God, you have never seen so many glossy new cars smashed to pieces on roads and highways. It's worse than L. A.
Well, I'll give you another gag, just to add some of what the Japanese call the fifth sense of taste, savoriness or "umami", partly because I like that word. Diefenthal burns his house down by accident and he brings his mother over to Naceri's house to stay for a while. Naceri must leave his dissolute young girl friend with his elderly woman who enjoys only cooking. The two men must leave, but Cotillard is anxious because she and the other woman have absolutely nothing in common, so how can they talk? When the men return, hours later, they find both ladies laughing in an unbuttoned manner because they are thoroughly stoned on some Jamaican grass.
If you don't expect a masterpiece and if you're prepared to pay close attention, you'll find this a successful mood-lifter.