"Dabadabada..." : easy bashing.

In 1966, Lelouch’s « Un homme et une femme » won the Cannes Film Festival Palme d’Or. Boy meets girl, man meets woman, a widow, a widower ; she has a kid, he too, plus a Mustang convertible ; they drive to Deauville...

Forty years later, is it still possible to endure the film ?

Yes, for its actors : Anouk Aimée, Jean-Louis Trintignant, their low key presence, their quiet softness and Trintignant’s soothing voice.

Yes, for Trintignant’s Mustang convertible, empty Deauville at dawn, and a sense of nostalgia attached to anything forty years old : flickering images from a lost world.

No, because of « dabadabada » : the handful of notes by Francis Lai mercilessly pursues the viewer throughout the film like a broken record or an unstoppable car alarm, drills its way into his brain and infects it like a computer virus with an easy, superficial charm that is the caricature of the film itself.

No, because of Deauville, which Lelouch chose as his second base after Paris, where he built his « Club 13 » and which, in forty years, transformed itself from quaint and charming Normandy sea resort into the rallying point of a tinsel crowd flocking to show off their designer’s jeans and the latest toys money can buy.

No, because of too many Lelouch films which have gone the same way as Deauville.

There is no love lost between Lelouch and French critics. They call him an « amateur industry man », a « champion of conventional filmmaking », a « candymaker ».

Lelouch bashing is a no risk activity, a cheap and easy way to obtain a « cinéphile » license and pass for an individual of good taste, without having to profess unbound admiration for Philippe Garrel or Straub and Huillet.

Lelouch’s name is expected to trigger a saddened expression of mild scorn and a small dismissive smile amid all reasonably intelligent and educated people ; the director has become a cultural lower common denominator : to show contempt for Lelouch is a prerequisite for admission into good society; to appreciate his films is to be beyond salvation.

As token evidence of his critics’ fairness, some of the director’s less ambitious movies are entitled to a more lenient treatment.

Though criticised upon its release for its cynicism -a comedy about pseudo-political hijacking-, « L’aventure, c’est l’aventure » (1972) may be enjoyed for its « good fun » ; « Le bon et les méchants » (1975) is saved by Jacques Dutronc’s laid back charm and the singer-actor’s popularity with more respectable filmmakers ; « Another man, another chance » (1977) is partly redeemed by its grandiose American scenery and Western film mythology, as well as James Caan.

Universal panning is as suspect as unanimous praise. Is this one more case of La Fontaine’s « La paille et la poutre », where critics see « la paille », the straw, in Lelouch’s eye but fail to notice « la poutre », the wooden beam in theirs ?