Bernard Frédéric (Benoît Poelvoorde) devoted his life to his biggest icon Claude François, perhaps the most famous mainstream French singer in the seventies. To fully live his passion and his admiration for him, he organized provincial tours in which he sang with female dancers "Cloclo"'s most popular songs, flanked by his associate Couscous who assured the first parts of his shows, dressed as Michel Polnareff's double. But today, galvanized by his wife Véro (Julie Depardieu) who forced him to choose between her or his god, his once exciting life got bogged down in a humdrum one. An employee in a bank, he also lives in a modest suburban house until one day, his former chum approaches him again to prompt him to attend a TV show about celebrity doubles. Frédéric can't withstand to the desire to attend it, dressed as Claude François. But he would have to defy the promise he made to Véro who might see this as the last straw about the future of her relationship with her mercurial man...
What can be said about a film which enjoyed a conspicuous publicity campaign and made it a household name virtually everywhere in France? Well, visually, it's an appealing film. The director Yann Moix retorted to a quite kitsch cinematography with often gaudy colors to recreate the aura of the Claude François mania in the seventies. A mania which is still vivacious today in Frédéric's mind and in his relentless training to be on this vital TV show about double celebrities. A quirky directing with split-screens which includes authentic footage dating from the seventies and an epileptic editing consolidates this whimsical menu. One word about the last sequence: Moix doesn't tap overflowing effects to leave the viewer speechless about the harrowing vibe the scene conveys and one forgets its formulaic character.
Then, the scenario seems to have been sedately written. It's true that the scriptwriters including Olivier Dazat follow an ultra-mapped scheme to tell Frédéric's efforts to reach the TV show which seems to be the most crucial thing on earth for him. However, there's more on the paper and to the picture than meets the eye. This scenario has its moments and they are numerous like when it comes to showcase and construe Frédéric's apparently simple but complex persona. He's a lackluster man when Claude François isn't on his mind but when his passion for Claude François has the upper hand and his determination to reform his female dance band make his demeanor with his surrounding hateful, obnoxious, on the brink of the unacceptable as the sequences when he selects his female dancers and then asks her questions (he has all the answers) about his god bear witness. But he's especially guided by his former tour companion, Couscous, deemed as disreputable by Véro. In a way, this hare-brained Polnareff's double is his evil genius because he indirectly jeopardizes Frédéric's couple to make him resume his one-time favorite activities. It's all the more serious as Véro is deeply enamored of her man. Moreover, does headstrong Frédéric's imagination play tricks on him? Is the sequence during which he's phoned by Claude François a dream or an hallucination? So, the scriptwriters have penned a cohesive screenplay which concerns nearly all of us, at least the ones who have heroes in any domain in life. To which extent, can we go to fully identify oneself with a celebrity for whom one is in awe? Could it make us cut off from the reality? Doesn't one risk a split personality?
"Podium" was basically a novel written by Moix himself for Benoît Poelvoorde to convince him to transpose it to the silver screen and to act in it. It bore fruit. The Belgian actor, once revealed with the half-gruesome, half-wacky "C'est Arrivé Près De Chez Vous" (1992) carries an important part of the film on his shoulders and his input both in the film and in his role is visible. His charisma, François' songs he heartily sings, the choreography are reproduced with painstaking application. But the rest of the cast isn't sacrificed. Julie Depardieu, (Gérard's daughter) acts her role with reserve and self-control and deftly circumvents the drawbacks her role was tending. Jean-Paul Rouve, him, keeps a part of mystery to Frédéric's sidekick and Polnareff's double.
On the surface, the story of "Podium" smells the reheated but the authors had the gusto to cool it down to better entertain the viewer and to arouse essential questions about his tastes and likes. This a little oddball film should appeal to Poelvoorde's fans and to "Cloclo"'s. And as soon as the film ends, French viewers, be prepared to hum his tunes. All together now: "Alexandrie, Alexandra", "Des Magnolias Par Centaines!" etc...
What can be said about a film which enjoyed a conspicuous publicity campaign and made it a household name virtually everywhere in France? Well, visually, it's an appealing film. The director Yann Moix retorted to a quite kitsch cinematography with often gaudy colors to recreate the aura of the Claude François mania in the seventies. A mania which is still vivacious today in Frédéric's mind and in his relentless training to be on this vital TV show about double celebrities. A quirky directing with split-screens which includes authentic footage dating from the seventies and an epileptic editing consolidates this whimsical menu. One word about the last sequence: Moix doesn't tap overflowing effects to leave the viewer speechless about the harrowing vibe the scene conveys and one forgets its formulaic character.
Then, the scenario seems to have been sedately written. It's true that the scriptwriters including Olivier Dazat follow an ultra-mapped scheme to tell Frédéric's efforts to reach the TV show which seems to be the most crucial thing on earth for him. However, there's more on the paper and to the picture than meets the eye. This scenario has its moments and they are numerous like when it comes to showcase and construe Frédéric's apparently simple but complex persona. He's a lackluster man when Claude François isn't on his mind but when his passion for Claude François has the upper hand and his determination to reform his female dance band make his demeanor with his surrounding hateful, obnoxious, on the brink of the unacceptable as the sequences when he selects his female dancers and then asks her questions (he has all the answers) about his god bear witness. But he's especially guided by his former tour companion, Couscous, deemed as disreputable by Véro. In a way, this hare-brained Polnareff's double is his evil genius because he indirectly jeopardizes Frédéric's couple to make him resume his one-time favorite activities. It's all the more serious as Véro is deeply enamored of her man. Moreover, does headstrong Frédéric's imagination play tricks on him? Is the sequence during which he's phoned by Claude François a dream or an hallucination? So, the scriptwriters have penned a cohesive screenplay which concerns nearly all of us, at least the ones who have heroes in any domain in life. To which extent, can we go to fully identify oneself with a celebrity for whom one is in awe? Could it make us cut off from the reality? Doesn't one risk a split personality?
"Podium" was basically a novel written by Moix himself for Benoît Poelvoorde to convince him to transpose it to the silver screen and to act in it. It bore fruit. The Belgian actor, once revealed with the half-gruesome, half-wacky "C'est Arrivé Près De Chez Vous" (1992) carries an important part of the film on his shoulders and his input both in the film and in his role is visible. His charisma, François' songs he heartily sings, the choreography are reproduced with painstaking application. But the rest of the cast isn't sacrificed. Julie Depardieu, (Gérard's daughter) acts her role with reserve and self-control and deftly circumvents the drawbacks her role was tending. Jean-Paul Rouve, him, keeps a part of mystery to Frédéric's sidekick and Polnareff's double.
On the surface, the story of "Podium" smells the reheated but the authors had the gusto to cool it down to better entertain the viewer and to arouse essential questions about his tastes and likes. This a little oddball film should appeal to Poelvoorde's fans and to "Cloclo"'s. And as soon as the film ends, French viewers, be prepared to hum his tunes. All together now: "Alexandrie, Alexandra", "Des Magnolias Par Centaines!" etc...