Little known outside France but beloved in it Coluche, like Bourvil (of whom the same may be said) excelled at comedy but was more than competent at drama as he demonstrates here. Those who know Claude Berri mostly and/or if only for his international successes Jean de Florette and Manon des Source will perhaps be surprised at the radical change of milieu, from the sunny, well-lit and wide-open spaces of southern France to the dark, murky narrow enclosed world of demi-monde Paris small-time drug-dealers. Coluche is Lambert-no-last-name who is measuring out his life in the litres of gas he pumps as night man at a small filling station; one night a young man of mixed blood, some of it Arab, wanders in to avoid the police - he has an endearing habit of stealing mopeds and motorbikes - and an unlikely bond is slowly forged between the two, easier to understand later with the disclosure that Lambert is an ex-cop whose teenage son died of an overdose. The kid (Richard Anconia) falls foul of his own dealer and gets it where the chicken got the axe and Lambert is moved to avenge him and is himself killed for his pains. Slow to gain momentum it slowly tightens its grip on the viewer and is well worth a look.
Review of So Long, Stooge
