Once described as a man 'whose intelligence is destroyed by his ego' Bernard-Henri Levy is renowned for his innate ability to ruffle feathers and rattle cages.
Activist, intellectual, socialite, multi-millionaire and er.....philosopher, he has also had the dubious distintion of being a member of that select group to have received direct hits from infamous pie-thrower Noel Godin.
Orson Welles once famously said that 'with a good editor and lighting cameraman, anyone can make a film.' Anyone it would seem except Bernard-Henri Levy.
Whichever way you look at it this film is pretty awful. Dull, pretentious, devoid of momentum and unintentionally funny.
The macho posturing here of Alain Delon in his early sixties and Francisco Rabal in his seventies is exceedingly absurd. Lauren Bacall manages to retain some semblance of dignity. The rest of the cast is uniformly mediocre including an actor whose surname, rather aptly, is Zero. There are a couple of heavenly bodies on display but the actresses to whom they belong are far less interesting when fully clothed.
The one redeeming feature is the cinematography of veteran Willy Kurant.
Does this opus deserve its label as 'worst'? There are many films out there which are just as bad if not worse, some of which have achieved cult status.
One should be grateful for small mercies in that Monsieur Levy was never again let loose on a film set.
The infinitely little possess a pride infinitely great and for this he fully deserves to be pelted with pies.
