Raoul Taburin (2019)
Directed by Pierre Godeau

Film Review

As has been demonstrated many times over the past decade or so, adapting a popular comic book for cinema can be a hit and miss affair.  When inspiration strikes, success is assured - Astérix et Obélix: Mission Cleopatra (2002), Le Petit Nicolas (2009) and Sur la piste du Marsupilami (2012) all found the winning formula and proved to be box office winners.  But when the Muse takes a day off, the result is inevitably a grisly misfire - Les Vacances de Ducobu (2012) and Boule et Bill (2013) speak the truth of this all too loudly.  Raoul Taburin is the latest in a mushrooming catalogue of adaptations of classic francophone bande dessinées, based on a popular work by the esteemed graphic artist Sempé that first appeared in 1995.

Sempé's most celebrated creation is Le Petit Nicolas, and despite the film's immense success at the box office, he was reputedly unimpressed by Laurent Tirard's adaptation.  He appears to be more favourably disposed towards the movie version of Raoul Taburin, which he reckons is much closer in spirit to the original comic book.  The film was directed by Pierre Godeau, his third feature after Juliette (2013) and Éperdument (2016).  Attractively filmed in Drôme, a picturesque spot in southeast France, and with ever-popular performers Benoît Poelvoorde and Edouard Baer taking the lead roles, the film would seem to have all that it needs to appeal to a mainstream audience.

Unlike most other comic book adaptations, Raoul Taburin is a film that persistently refuses to exchange the childlike charm of its source for the kind of puerile comic excess that has plagued French film comedy for the past decade.  As a result, it has an unashamed innocence that will appeal as much to grown-ups as it undoubtedly will to youngsters, making it ideal for family viewing.  In a way that is gently evocative of Jacques Tati's Jour de fête (1949), the film lures us into a bygone world that few of us can resist, the ideal setting for a bucolic fable that positively drips with nostalgia.

The enchanting poetry of the film is well-served by Benoît Poelvoorde, perfectly at home in a role that feels like an ironic counterpoint to the one he played so effectively in Philippe Harel's Le Vélo de Ghislain Lambert (2001), namely that of a man obsessed with becoming a cycling champion.  Here, Poelvoorde harbours more modest aspirations - being able to climb onto a bicycle saddle without falling onto his face.  As ever, the actor brings just the right note of poignancy and no shortage of good-natured humour to his sympathetic portrayal of a tormented soul with a tragic secret.

Edouard Baer proves to be a delightful complement to Poelvoorde, the kind of self-serving rogue you can't help warming to, and his amiable presence helps to prevent the film from becoming to twee and saccharine.  By not going out of its way to be loud and showy, by respecting its source and extracting the best this has to offer, Raoul Taburin demonstrates how a comic book adaptation ought to be undertaken - and the fact that Sempé's unmistakable art can be seen so readily in it assures us of its authors' good intentions.

Film Synopsis

Raoul Taburin has the reputation of being a man who knows all there is to know about bicycles.  He can repair any cycle he is presented with, and does so with the skill and precision of a master craftsman.  And yet he has a dark secret that he scrupulously keeps to himself.  Although he can assemble a cycle from its component parts with his eyes closed, he has never yet been able to ride a bike himself.  He discovered this affliction early in childhood, and it has stayed with him ever since.  Now in middle-age, he wonders how different his life might have been if he had learned to cycle...