Epaminondas

This film is hailed by fans and critics as the "best" in French director Max Pécas' career. Be that as it may, it is still shockingly far from even the lowest cinematographic standards - those of the later episodes in the POLICE ACADEMY series, for instance.

It should be noted that the film does not contain the regular quota of Pécas nudity which may come as something of disappointment for some people; however the usual revolting display of vulgarity, misogyny, homophobia and sheer visual ugliness is indeed present and even flamboyant.

Quite unusual in the Pécas tradition, the exotic setting of Tunisia for the second half of the movie does not provide enlightening insights into local culture or even pretty landscape shots, which does not really come as a surprise. The whole thing is simply pointless, actors are astonishingly bad throughout (even young Victoria Abril's efforts amount to nil), and there is not a single joke which is even remotely funny. Words fail to convey the full extent of this film's abysmal nullity.

This film is an utter pile of turd. it contains nothing worth viewing apart from young women's breasts, the filming of which amounts to about 1/3 of the footage. If you are interested in seeing half-naked girls with early 80's hairdos, this film is for you, provided you turn off the sound. if not, you will listen to such a display of vulgarity and meaningless junk as to want to throw up. Fans will be pleased to recognize French porn star Brigitte Lahaie in as insignificant a part as has ever been cast. The dialogue is pointless and the image ugly throughout, and there is indeed little else to say. To think that from time to time Max Pécas is hailed as a counter-culture genius by alienated critics only underlines their own abasement, as anyone who sees this piece of junk will recognize.

Even my severe Peter Sellers bias cannot force me into liking this tiny film more than it deserves. A ludicrous tale of international politics and disarmament, it mostly fails to be funny, despite Sellers' triple performance as the duchess of Grand Fenwick, her prime minister "Bobo" and hereditary field-marshal and game-keeper Tully Bascombe. The humor is quite predictable, as the rhythm is much too slow, and based mostly on idiotic visual gags (such as having men in arrows dressed in medieval chain-mail walking the streets of New York, the comic of which soon fades).

The film main's interest probably lies in its Cold war relevance: allusions to the Marshall plan, Korea, Berlin, NATO, etc, abound. But one only needs to see DR STRANGELOVE or, even better in my opinion, Billy Wilder's ONE, TWO, THREE (the ultimate Cold war comedy, contrasting hilarious stereotypes in a gloomy Berlin setting) to regret this picture's limitations. If the titles are amusing, if a gorgeous Jean Seberg and a below-average Sellers do their best, the film is utterly forgettable.