Les Patriot

Going to the movies has become a world-wide passion. Most people, at least in the English-speaking world; think that films were first widely shown in the United States courtesy of Thomas Edison. But in fact in the early 1890s the Lumiere brothers were showing shorts like The Sprayer Gets Sprayed (about a water hose and two youngsters) to piano accompaniment in Paris.

Little wonder, then, that the French continue to be a moviegoing nation. Though of course there are many high quality French films produced each year, no one does a blockbuster like Hollywood--and so it was with great anticipation that thousands of Parisians lined up at the Cinecite at the famous Les Halles mall and market yesterday for the opening night of The Patriot with Mel Gibson.

After purchasing my ticket for the 9:30 showing with my minimal French, my high school buddy Chad and I went for a quality Sandwich Jambon at a local Bistro (staying far from the 'Chicago Restaurant') and then proceeded to the film entrance, where approximately 300 French and scattered foreigners such as ourselves stood in physical proximity similar to a mosh pit jammed up against the doors to the theater. Nine thirty--no sign of the hall opening, though about ten people who had clearly left the previous showing made their way through the throng.

Then the doors opened, and in remarkably orderly fashion we entered the theater. Thankfully, unlike in German theaters, there were no cigarette commercials; however, between the previews there were instead ads for ultra-fine condoms and cellular Internet service, both of which fall similarly on my radar screen for taste. This continued for about twenty minutes, at which point I was starting to think, "this better not be another typical-length Gibson opus, or the trains will stop running before we get out of here." But then the movie began.

A nice aspect of French film showing is that, unlike in many countries; they do not dub all the American films. This allows the literate French citizen to experience the film in several ways--if only our movie houses didn't play to the lowest common denominator! It also allows for subtitles to disappear whenever French is spoken, to the cheers of the crowded room. And here is the difference between French filmgoing and American: the French know how to react to a movie. I'm not just talking about laughing and such, but applause, jeers, and other fun. And contrary to popular opinion, it didnt detract from my experience, but added to it.

On top of all this, Bastille Day was in two days. For the uninformed American reader; this is sort of like July 4th except commemorating a brutal, bloody revolution against tyrants living in your country, as opposed to 3000 miles away. So they were all the more hyped for the themes outlined so well in the PCC review of this film. Gibson's acts of daring earned shouts; the villainous Colonel Tavington was decried; and the French sidekick was loudly cheered! This was the best part; every time someone said "Can you really trust the word of a Frenchman?" or "What do you expect; he's French" huge outbursts of not rage; but laughter ensued--those silly American movie makers; playing to stereotypes! Of course we are trustworthy, and far less jingoistic than you cultural toddlers.

Well, maybe not that much. But the best laughs by far came--for me especially--on the morning of the big battle, when the Frenchman comes out of his tent in his royal battle blue and announces in his defense, "At least I will die well-dressed." 500 souls applauded this most noble of sentiments.

And then just like that the film was over, and everyone left in a relatively civil fashion. No hooligans, no cries of "Vive le France". I was vaguely disappointed. Shouldn't we all be crying for royal blood now? But on the whole I give the French movie experience 4 Fruit Loops--not perfect, but entertaining in many different ways.