Screened as part of NZIFF 2009

OSS 117 – Lost in Rio 2009

OSS 117 – Rio ne répond plus

Directed by Michel Hazanavicius

Fabled superagent OSS 117 (handsome, straight-faced comic Jean Dujardin) defends La France from slippery foreigners in this spy movie spoof lovingly set in Bossa Nova-era Brazil. “Very, very funny.” — Twitch

France In French with English subtitles
100 minutes 35mm / CinemaScope

Producers

Eric Altmayer
,
Nicolas Altmayer

Screenplay

Jean-François Halin
,
Michel Hazanavicius

Photography

Guillaume Schiffman

Editor

Reynald Bertrand

Production designer

Maamar Ech-Cheikh

Sound

Didier Saïn

Music

Ludovic Bource

With

Jean Dujardin (Hubert Bonisseur de la Bath, OSS 117)
,
Louise Monot (Dolores)
,
Alex Lutz (Heinrich)
,
Rüdiger Vogler (Von Zimmel)
,
Ken Samuels (Trumendous)
,
Reem Kherici (Carlotta)
,
Pierre Bellemare (Lesignac)
,
Serge Hazanavicius (Staman)
,
Laurent Capelluto (Kutner)
,
Moon Dailly (La Comtesse)
,
Walter Shnorkell (Fayolle)
,
Philippe Hérisson (Mayeux)

Elsewhere

The not-so-secret weapon that makes this po-faced parody of espionage thrillers and French arrogance so lethally funny – and relished in France – is that it lifts its suavely self-enchanted protagonist intact from a series of novels that were widely popular there 50 years ago. Fabled spy OSS 117, aka Hubert Bonisseur de la Bath, was the quintessential fictional hero of postwar France, criss-crossing the world to defend his patrie against slippery foreigners of every shade. Director Michel Hazanavicius and star Jean Dujardin first resurrected this forgotten spy movie franchise in the extremely funny Cairo, Nest of Spies which played less like an Austin Powers movie than a lost relic from a sadly deluded time. Now it's 1967 and it's Brazil's turn. — BG

“The film constantly and adeptly mimics the themes and techniques of B-grade thrillers of the epoch. Sent to Brazil to retrieve a microfilm containing the names of Frenchmen who assisted the Nazi regime (although he's astounded that any such collaborators existed, he swears to protect their secrecy), he finds himself in a Bossa Nova dreamland of bikini-clad women, perma-tanned foreign agents and pesky, gun-wielding ‘Chinamen’ (as he calls them)... Between his hearty cornball laugh, his stoic delivery of shameful dialogue and the way he carries himself around in endless self-admiration, the actor invents a persona that, like Sellers' Inspector Clouseau, is a continual joy to watch.” — Jordan Mintzer, Variety

“A boatload of fun, lovingly period styled, outrageously un-PC and a much, much more rewarding night at the movies than any James Bond film of the last 20 years.” — Jonathan King