It’s exciting to see Shyamalan on such confident footing once more, all these years later.
Whenever I see Michel Blanc in a movie, I rejoice that he exists.
He seems such an unlikely candidate for movie stardom: small, bald, neat and pale - as pale, I once wrote, as if he had been sprouted in a basement. Like Peter Lorre or Mr. Magoo, he seems completely self-contained, and it is no accident that in his best film ("Monsieur Hire" (1990)), he lived alone with his fantasies.
In France, however, Blanc is famous and treasured, and his fame is the springboard for "Grosse Fatigue," a comedy in which his life grows painfully complicated after someone begins to impersonate him. His "double" is an unscrupulous con man who can talk the Carlton Hotel into giving him Gerard Depardieu's suite at the Cannes Film Festival. Who offers starring roles to actresses, sometimes with the desired results. Who picks up quick cash by emceeing contests at strip clubs, or even hiring himself out for the "Dunk Michel Blanc" booth at a carnival.
For the real Michel Blanc, the double makes life impossible.