Film review: La Doublure (The Valet)

I went into The Valet with little to no idea of its plot. What I did know was that the film was French and that the main character was a valet. From this information I extrapolated premonitions of an absurdist French narrative that focused upon the life of a valet and his existentialist crisis. Clearly, I was wrong.
What I was presented with was a basic romantic comedy, driven by a premise that was terribly fetching and terribly Hollywood; an ugly and poor valet, rejected by his true love, gets paid to live with a supermodel.

Really, premises don’t get much more brilliant then that.

Yes, this film focuses upon Francois Pignon, an everyman desperately in love with a young bookstore clerk who, sadly, has given their relationship that accursed “Just friends” label. But the hapless Pignon soon finds himself ironically posing as the boyfriend of a gorgeous model. Complications (and hilarity!) ensue.
This concept is of the kind that would appeal to nobodies everywhere. Heck, I’m shocked that Hollywood hadn’t picked up on this idea sooner (don’t worry, they’re ripping it off in 2008). What came as even more of a shock was how The Valet revealed itself. Beat for beat, it is essentially an L.A. production. The story is light…the humor is airy…and boy, the result is inconsequential.
Really, you can equate The Valet to pillow talk. This script clamors for a subplot so badly that it throws a second supermodel into the mix about halfway through the film just to complicate things.
But such complications are never really complications. They’re mild annoyances at best. And The Valet seems perfectly fine with that. It’s more content to play itself out as an absurdist comedy that does nothing more than grandstand as to how clever it is.
Is it clever? Sure, some lines crackle with wit, but there’s more thunder then lighting at play here.
More irksome is how the screenplay’s low ambitions extend to the protagonist and his arc. Pignon is uninteresting, his job sucks and few people expect him to marry a stunning girl. Admittedly, I sympathized with him. But here’s the problem: the solutions to Pignon’s issues are handed to him, time and again, on a silver platter.
Pignon needs money at the onset of the film to woo his prospective mate. This is an issue because he’s a broke valet who doesn’t rank high with the female gender. Then, out of nowhere, he gets entangled with a billionaire playboy who will pay Pignon to share a phony relationship with France’s loveliest supermodel. It’s a clever solution to both of Pignon’s problems.

He does nothing to generate this solution.

Out of the blue, the billionaire contacts him, offers him the cash and that very night he’s sharing a bed with this girl. How easily it all happens, with no effort on his part!
But that’s just the turning point, right? We can let it go because it spins the story into our second act. The rest of Pignon’s arc must come as a result of his own efforts, right?

Right?

Actually, no. Just about everything else is handed to Pignon. The supermodel even clears up conflict between Pignon and Emilie, the girl he really loves. It’s insulting. Everything perfectly falling into place wouldn’t be so naive if the film’s protagonist actually caused it to happen.
The rest of the characters range from charming to bland. I remain confounded as to why Pignon has such interest in Emilie (played by Virginie Ledoyen). She’s about as winning as a sharp object to the eye. The billionaire, Daniel, starts out somewhat sympathetic but gradually becomes a rabid parody of all French billionaires (a feat that I didn’t believe possible).

Thankfully, this film is short. As such, it remains entertaining. Besides, I don’t think it could have stretched beyond an hour and a half; About 10 minutes in and every member of the audience could have written the rest of the story on a single sheet of paper.

Double-spaced.