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First it was a mine that exploded in the middle of the Moroccan desert. Years later, it was a stray bullet that lodged in his brain… Bazil doesn’t have much luck with weapons. The first made an orphan, the second holds him on the brink of sudden and instant death. Released from hospital, Bazil is homeless. Luckily, our inspired and gentle-natured dreamer is adopted by a motley crew of second-hand dealers living in a veritable Ali Baba’s cave, whose talents and aspirations are as surprising as they are diverse: Remington, Calculator, Buster, Slammer, Elastic Girl, Tiny Pete and Mama Chow. One day, walking by two huge buildings, Bazil recognizes the logos of the weapons manufacturers that caused his hardship. With the help of his faithful gang of wacky friends he sets out to take revenge. Underdogs battling heartless industrial giants, our gang relives the battle of David and goliath, with all the imagination and fantasy of Buster Keaton.
Atteint d’une balle impossible d’extraire de sa tête, Bazil (Dany Boon) est aux prises avec d’étranges effets secondaires. Dorénavant chômeur, il est recueilli par une bande de curieux individus dont un homme canon détenteur du record mondial et une étonnante femme élastique. Ensemble, ils élaborent un plan pour venger Bazil des grands fabricants d’armes au monde qu’ils tiennent responsable de tous ses malheurs.
Jean-Pierre Jeunet makes movies like a mad scientist: a bit of this and a bit of that, comedy and horror, charm and madness--et voilà, an Amélie or Very Long Engagement is born. So it's quite appropriate that the central troupe in Micmacs is an eccentric band of tinkerers, toolsmiths, and circus folk; these are Jeunet's kind of people, and putting them together in odd combinations is his lab experiment. The "micmacs" live in a junkyard warren of their own devising, where they are joined by the film's nominal hero, Bazil (Dany Boon), a nondescript video-store clerk whose "career" is cut short when he takes a stray bullet to the head. Surviving this irritation, Bazil vows vengeance on the city's fat-cat arms manufacturers (as fate would have it, his father was killed by a land mine, adding extra incentive) and enlists his super-quirky band of buddies to help. Now, it is beyond question that Amélie lovers and Jeunet fans are going to lap up this collection of Rube Goldberg gadgets and Looney Tunes-style gags, and the inkling of a social issue (or at least the little guys vs. military-industrial complex theme) will also have some appeal. But it must be recorded that prolonged exposure to Micmacs could result in tooth decay for viewers with a low tolerance for whimsy, despite its many moments of undeniable cleverness. Plan accordingly. --Robert Horton