When an international arms dealer dies, he leaves his inheritance to his young widow. Since the inheritance includes a whole array of tactically and strategically important assets, various nations want to charm, influence or intimidate the said widow. A whole army of secret agents is ready to use all means fair or foul...
"Les Barbouzes" is a spoof of the spy genre. The first half of the movie is delectable : sharp, playful, cynical, silly. Sadly the quality of the movie descends, descends, descends... Near the end many a viewer will be sure to yawn with boredom.
The movie is at its cynical, quick-witted best when dissecting official lies and propaganda. The dead arms dealer is a depraved hyper-capitalist grown fat by fomenting war and oppressing the poor and innocent. His widow (a very beautiful Mireille Darc, by the way) is a successful ex-prostitute canny enough to have caught an ageing sensualist. However, a number of nations, chief among them the country of France, find it expedient to pretend that this was a great and good man, who died an admirable death. As a result the newspapers and television programmes carry nothing but loving praise, while the man's nasty intrigues get buried under the flowers and telegrams. Visitors tearfully evoke his humanity, his decency, his piety, his delicacy. By the same alchemy the young tart becomes a great lady who bears her grief with Christian heroism.
I'm pretty sure that many real-life criminals and dictators have been buried under similar circumstances...
"Les Barbouzes" is a spoof of the spy genre. The first half of the movie is delectable : sharp, playful, cynical, silly. Sadly the quality of the movie descends, descends, descends... Near the end many a viewer will be sure to yawn with boredom.
The movie is at its cynical, quick-witted best when dissecting official lies and propaganda. The dead arms dealer is a depraved hyper-capitalist grown fat by fomenting war and oppressing the poor and innocent. His widow (a very beautiful Mireille Darc, by the way) is a successful ex-prostitute canny enough to have caught an ageing sensualist. However, a number of nations, chief among them the country of France, find it expedient to pretend that this was a great and good man, who died an admirable death. As a result the newspapers and television programmes carry nothing but loving praise, while the man's nasty intrigues get buried under the flowers and telegrams. Visitors tearfully evoke his humanity, his decency, his piety, his delicacy. By the same alchemy the young tart becomes a great lady who bears her grief with Christian heroism.
I'm pretty sure that many real-life criminals and dictators have been buried under similar circumstances...