The Case for Stick Figures

I had to go to Bienvenue Chez Les Ch’tis (Welcome to the Sticks). I could not make it when it screened at the International Film Festival last year, so I have been hanging out for this film for around 9 months. And in the end, the wait was well worth it.

The concept of the film isn’t really one I usually go for (a mild mannered slap stick kind of comedy), but go to the film I had to nonetheless. Not only is it a French film, and the highest grossing film in France ever, but also (and more importantly) my Aunt has a small yet memorable part as a northern local.

The premise of the film is that the people in the sunny south of France (or perhaps all over the country) see the north as a cultural wasteland of ice-covered fields and crazy people (well, it is close to England). Therefore, when the lead character, Philippe, is posted to the far-flung north of the country, away from the warm Mediterranean climate of his home, he wraps up in polar survival gear and heads, with a heavy heart and a light foot on the accelerator, to the Nord Pas de Calais.

This has a special resonance for me, as my French side of the family is all from that region (so my Aunt was playing a character not too far removed from her own experience). Of course, when Philippe arrives, he finds that everyone talks with a funny accent (perhaps ironic, considering “Parisian French” is the standard, not an accent from the south), they have peculiar customs and appalling weather, most of which are either caused or solved (or both) through the liberal imbibing of local and foreign alcohol.Philippe’s wife pictures life in the north as a living hell, so remains in the south worried for her north-dwelling husband. So Philippe, whose relationship with his wife has never been stronger now that they are apart, is in no rush to dissuade her of that impression, even as he finds himself acclimatising to the northern lifestyle.

So there is really nothing new to the story. It follows the conceit that people perceive that other people and places are less civilised than themselves (e.g., Wellington v the Hutt Valley or KapitiCoast; Auckland v the rest of the country), though this film capitalises on the differences that centuries of regional differences have produced, even in a country as centralised as France. The film’s popularity can probably be attributed to that celebration of “true France”, in much the same way films about rural or “old” New Zealand are seen as more Kiwi than more modern, urban-based entertainment (with the notable exception of Outrageous Fortune, of course). My favourite scenes in the film are when the wife finally visits the north, and the elaborate charade the locals go through to convince her that the north really is horrible are accepted by her without a single sceptical thought.

So, in the end, the film actually thrives on prejudice. The whole point is that other people are odd and different – and that is between peoples of the same nation. But, of course, the film eventually becomes a celebration of those differences, the mocking becoming gentle, the alien mannerisms becoming eccentricities from the norm. Overall, it’s a fun film with a message of acceptance at its heart, and if Welcome to the Sticks is the most popular film in France ever, then that is definitely a good thing.

Verdict: It has all been done a thousand times before, but this French take is done well, its distinctly Gallic flavour enhancing its underlying universal message. Two colours out of three.