In box office we trust.

In France, box office is measured in -pairs of- eyeballs ; in the US, in dollars.

Eyeballs have one advantage : they may need correction for myopia or astigmatism, but not for inflation : year 1950 and year 2000 eyeballs may be compared without adjustment.

These two different accounting systems will inspire some trigger-happy thinkers with a philosophical debate : what is a spectator worth ? His culture, attention, sensitiveness, laughter, fears, tears ? Or just his ticket price, plus the cost of his pop corn giant bucket -as of today not accounted for, even by US box office- ?

Are senior and unemployed citizens and all discount tickets holders second rate spectators ?

The same thinkers will then take the short stroll from box office measurement to the value of human life : are men and moviegoers nothing but a commodity ? How many Nepalese labourers is a New York tax lawyer worth ? How many New Delhi spectator does a blockbuster need to make up for the loss of a couple with two kids from Kensington Gardens in London ?

The more dogmatic intellectuals will point out with glee and without surprise that US and French box office accounting systems demonstrate that the US champion an unbridled free market, profit-driven economy, while France sticks to a more benign humanistic model.

Deep thinkers like the occasional joke.

More sober accountants will remark that French film budgets are not calculated in eyeballs and that revenues in hard currency are helpful to assess a film bottom line.

Since its release on December 8, 1966, 17,7 million spectators have watched « La grande vadrouille » in France.

Till 1997, the film remained the undisputed overall Gallic box office leader. Then came the « Titanic » catastrophe : 20 million tickets sold in France.

It is a pity and a sad blow to both « exception culturelle » and « diversité culturelle » when a local favourite is taken over by a global blockbuster on its own turf.

Some hard-core French nationalists or « La grande vadrouille » fans may argue that eyeballs actually need to be corrected for inflation : French population, and therefore eyeballs, increased between 1966 and 1997.

« Titanic »’s 20 million spectators best « La grande vadrouille »’s 17,7 million by thirteen per cent. Did French pairs of eyeballs increase by a higher or lower margin between 1966 and 1997 ?

Should a controversy arise, we shall let demographers settle it.

Whatever they decide, « La grande vadrouille » still tops the list of French all-time box office champs.

If we estimate France had around 53 million inhabitants in 1966, it means one out of three French residents, from the newly born to his great grand-mother, watched the film.

In fact, the figure is grossly inflated : the film did business for years ; more importantly, France did not need « Star Wars » to discover repeat viewing.

I believe to have watched the movie close to ten times during its initial run ; considering I was five years old, my parents and grand parents likely saw it two or three times each.

I have no memory of major foot dragging on their side, a hint the film was to their liking. True, I have no memory either of their protesting when I threatened to run amok if I did not win a « Monopoly » game.

If all French families had done their duty like mine, « Titanic »’s twenty million viewers would look like small change.

For the past forty years, « La grande vadrouille » has consistently dominated French TV ratings : the film seems immune to audience erosion and over-exploitation.

The global picture is less rosy. « La grande vadrouille » literal translation in English would have been « The big », « great » or even « grand stroll » -a distant reminiscence of « Grand illusion » ?-, depending on your taste for hyperbole ; its US release title was « Don’t look now... we’re being shot at ». Business seems to have been scarce.

A brief summary of the film plot, as per the Wikipedia encyclopaedia, for today’s global audience, offers partial explanation : « comedy film about how the crew of a Royal Air-Force bomber shot down over Paris makes its way through German-occupied France with the main help of two French citizens with very different mindsets. »

Pathetic pitch bears limited resemblance to the actual film. « La grande vadrouille » does not give a damn about British aviators, the film is about Augustin Bouvet, a house painter -Bourvil-, and Stanislas Lefort, Paris Opera conductor -Louis de Funès-, and how they are forced into active resistance and collaboration -with each other, not the Germans- despite their opposing characters and constant infighting.

« La grande vadrouille » is not so much a WW2 as a French civil war movie.

The film marked Bourvil’s and de Funès’s second pairing after « Le corniaud » (1965) : 11,1 million spectators, three or four of them being me ; a hint of things to come. Both films were directed by Gérard Oury.

How does a five year old kid fall for a pair of fifty-something bald -Louis de Funès- or badly balding -Bourvil- men ?

How does he remain faithful to them for over thirty years of TV repeats -I admit missing the more recent broadcasts- ?

Few films pass the test of time with such honour ; « La grande vadrouille » is the kind of movie you promise to watch for five minutes, only to stay to the end.