Audiovisual Pleasures when Traveling

Earlier this week I was travelling to and back from Prague, not on a plane, nor by car, neither by train. And exactly because of that, I was the blessing that is called free time immobilised. Why is that, you will ask. Let me explain: the aforementioned ways of travelling no matter how different they are, have one similar result: keeping us busy. Not sure if it applies to others, but for me taking the plane means a lot of organisation and serious item selection and separation (liquids here, heavy stuff there, fragile goods where?), which brings along stress, just like the never-ending controls, check-ins and so on so forth. Little time to rest and be peaceful/ready to concentrate on something other than the trip per se. Travelling by car implies company, and your company wants to converse, wants you to be a good dj and stuff, occasionally he even wants you to drive a little bit so that he gets some rest (what the fuck). No free time for extracurricular activities there. Train comes handy, cause it surely gives more time for contemplation; the voyage is normally long, but the landscape distracting, just like the various stops on the way. You cannot help listening to the bizarre names of the stops in between, noticing new passengers coming in or going out, staring at interesting strangers if not the strangely-shaped trees that for the fraction of a second collate with the horizon and little time is left for you to read or write, let alone watch a movie. Because, this is what I'm talking about: the impossible deed of watching a movie on the move.

But, yes, earlier this week I made it. I opted for a bus from Luxembourg to Prague, and, what a joy, I was left exhausted in my not-so-comfortable seat, ready to endure a ten-hour-trip armed with unusually quiet co-travellers and a small screen stuck on the back of the seat in front me. A vast (sic) choice of films and TV series awaited me. I finally had the time to fill my gaps when it comes to recent and not-so-recent cinematic releases. On the way to the exceptionally gothic Czech capital I watched Argo (2012), the oh-so-acclaimed film I once scoffed on the basis of its fame -sometimes too much praise gets on my nerves, you know- only to realise that it is a good film indeed. I love to find out that I was wrong; I enjoyed a messy and long-haired Ben Affleck, full of poise and secret agent allure, as much as I found the atmosphere in '79 Teheran intimidating and threatening, even a bit exaggerated so (been in Teheran ten years ago, the early years' roughness had worn off, but, oh well, it is an "unfree" place to a certain extent).

His life a Circus: Charlie Chaplin

Being lukewarm towards Charlie Chaplin is possible; I wouldn't contest his apparent acting and directing genius (how else would he have his audiences on hello), but his kind of thing, the combination of slapstick and pathos is definitely not for me. I'd rather have the two separated; I tend to despise comedies without a happy ending, cause they take me by surprise -there's a definite need for preparation to take pain in.

My sympathy for Chaplin, the man, grew like a wild flower after reading his tormented childhood. "Why had she done this? Mother, so light-hearted and gay, how could she go insane?", he is writing in his autobiography for his feelings, as a child, towards his mum's unstable nature. Climbing up the ladder didn't come easy. Chaplin had to fight his appearance -they said he looked too young and too shy- and contest with bigger stars, trying to shine above them in order to secure his place in the English show-biz.

Chaplin or Charlot in many a countries was lucky enough to be selected in the Karno troup that was going to tour America; that's how he got into movies. Scouting always works in favour of audiences, and the latter found in Chaplin's face their new idol: Chaplin was probably the first actor to have his own merchandise sold all around; he was an incontestable worldwide cultural phenomenon (which I'm unable to grasp) and this mania was even given a name by an entertainment journalist: "Chaplinitis" took over America on 1915, he writes. 

The King of Comedy

A film on crazy stalkers that scare the shit out of you is a very relevant film in our times of the Social Media reign. Facebook, Twitter and the like makes every one of us feel a bit like a star to a certain extent; we can all have stalkers nowadays, but back then only idols had this privilege. Celebrity worship is still around, I guess, but is anyone getting hysteric, like it was the case for Liszt, The Beatles or Michael Jackson? It seems to me that the feeling of "proximity" to Stars and their deeds that the Internet and later on Social Media platforms brought as a result made us less obsessed with them, which can only be a good thing -if my observation is correct.

"Better to be king for a night than schmuck for a lifetime." a loudly-dressed guy named Rupert Pumpkin was saying, and it was quite right in his case. Where was he going with that name, anyways? He succeeded to make his Pumpkin turn into a horse carriage and he became a brave, but quite insane Cinderella for more than a night, after all, due to his obsession, his impermeability to hardship and negation and his absolute belief that he was worth it. 

Insatiable is my Name: Russ Meyer's Vixen! (1968)

Vixen! was the film that catapulted Russ Meyer in the international vixendome. "The King of the Nudies", as he was referred to -a title he full-heartedly chose to adorn his headstone with- is well-known for his big breast fixation, weird sense of humour and sexploitation crescendo.

His Amazonian, insatiable women often portray such vigour and  men-hunting qualities that one can see them as a token of feminism more than victims of a sexist society. They can be as empowering, as tortured. objectified and ridiculed, if we look at the big picture, though; so don't blame me on proclaiming Russ Meyer a hardcore feminist, even if his dominant women can definitely be described as sending out a feminist message. 

Trapped in Adolescence's Submarine

Craig Roberts is Oliver Tate, a bright and very self-involved  kid; a bit of a Drama Queen, too (that certainly rings a bell). He would love it, if  there was the possibility of a film crew following his every move (personally, I would opt for a horde of paparazzis, and I'm not even an adolescent, see?). It's common before adulthood the feeling that young people are starring in their life's movie and that's ok; what's even worse is to actually feel you are a character in somebody else's life movie. True Story.

But, let's get back to Oliver: he's smart, he's low profile, he's virgin. The first two do not seem to help him a lot resolve the third, because bullies in his school seem to be more successful with girls and humiliate him for good, calling him names: quiet kids are gays, for kids with a lot of adrenaline; even Oliver's mum thinks the same.

French Film Titles: a Story to Tell

Day in, day out last week I was flipping through the pages of a French Culture Publication called Spectacles a Metz that covers, take a wild guess: the spectacles around Metz, naturally, in La Moselle area, France. It is an interesting publication with a wide variety of spectacles -music, theatre, expositions and everything else culture-wise- but let me narrow down the results of my search, it's always cinema that has the priority here, you know it.

I had endless laughs every time I was opening the page to the cinema section, called Ciné, so sweet; it was the best time of the day indeed, not only for the laughing part, but also for the relaxation involved with going to the loo, I had the aforementioned publication in my private collection in my restroom, did I forget to mention that?

Eat Bananas and LOL

I always liked bananas. Especially ripe ones. I ate the last one yesterday, shops were already closed to go buy new ones, so I decided to just watch another Woody Allen, an old one with that very word in the title. I did not regret it and it proved my point once more: what's with maturity and young age? Have you noticed that for some people wisdom withers away as soon as their hair take the colour of snowflakes? So long for Woody losing his wit nowadays. I now really want to aknowledge his brilliant sense of humour once upon a time.

Bananas (1971) is a little funny title to start with, referencing the phrase "Banana Republic" which serves as a setting for the film, but also meaning "crazy" --it's raining right now, no bananas to eat, the dishwasher is terribly noisy, why do I write anyways? I guess I write to forget all the above, that's why I will go on trying, my laptop on the kitchen table the minimal distance ever achieved from the deafening dishwasher.

This film, for once, requires no analysis and thorough reasoning, no big words to decypher its hidden meaning or beautifully-knit phrases on its artistic value and its sincere donation to the world's intellectul heritage. This film is purely funny, decomplexed and simple, no second degree and complicated reading there; everyone can get it, it was good to entertain audiences back then as it is now, because its farcical qualities are strong, unified and temporal.

In Bananas you are bound to find no bananas whatsoever; only a young Allen with his smart freckled face testing extravagant products and whining for giving up college, buying porn mags, hitting on a high-brow girl, then taking a trip to an unstable republic and getting involved with the rebels and their plan for revolution, but I should not give everything away. He is always clumsy, always nervous, never pretentious and so damn funny. In a nutshell, he is adorable --the world still owes him a lot for what he was, minus the disappointment for what he has become.

One last thing to mention: Bananas features #69 on the American Film Institute list 100 years...100 laughs, with Annie Hall #4, Manhattan #46, Take the Money and Run #66. In other words: grab some old Woody Allen and LOL the night away.

Bernie or can gratuitous violence be funny?

Less than a decade ago a French boy in Caen, Normandie introduced me to Albert Dupontel: the intro was short, sth like "I will show you a film by a guy I really like. He does everything, acting, directing, script-writing. And his sense of humour rocks". It was like this that I watched Le Createur; I cannot recall much, I guess it did not impress me as much as expected. I do remember the guy had a disturbing face, though.

Yesterday night in Brussels a German boy insisted on us (Michael, Manos, me and himself) watching a film of his choice, a "very funny, but a bit sick" film, as he said. "Do you know Bernie"? he asked, but the only Bernie I knew was the one of Weekend at Bernie's (1989). It slowly transpired that Bernie was Albert Dupontel's first feature film, crazy and not belonging to any discernible film genre, but belonging nevertheless to my favourite philosophical trend of my academic years: post-modernism.

Bernie (1996) was nominated for a César in the Meilleure Première Oeuvre (Best First Work) category, which comes as quite a surprise, thinking of the guts that they had at the Césars back then, as now they are far more conservative in their choices of the contestants --and this film is definitely no film for the mass audience.

Checking online, I see that people who gave Bernie a chance a long time after it went out in the cinemas, understand its place among the cult French films, talk a lot about its "second degré" quality --a phrase basically aknowledging that the film can only be understood on a second level, which differentiates from the obvious message that the image on the screen sends out-- but they do not cheer for it all that much. Which basically proves that they do not get it.

After this lengthy introduction, I can cut the long story short and say what I have to say about this French bizzarerie: it goes among the same lines with Sitcom (1998) by Francois Ozon and other provocative films of that time, when certain directors tried to experiment with the medium itself and not so much with the content. Having that in mind, the viewer can find a safe way to read and enjoy such kind of films, but it definitely needs some training for those who are easily disturbed by gratuitous violence, immoral/paranoid characters and vulgarity in general. Let me remind you Clockwork Orange (which scores of course at a totally different quality level) and its not-easy-to digest scenes of violence and sexual assault. That one falls under the category of a parable on personal freedom and choice, but what I'm trying to say is that both films require a key in order for them to be read correctly and not insulting the viewer with their excess.

To answer to the question "what is this film all about" I would summarize some of its qualities, without analysing them much. Being a parody, Bernie is not actually creating violence by itself, it just immitates and drives to the extreme filmic text that is already out there; a) it plays with the world "enculé", a common french insult in French films and it visualises it for the pure fun of it --which can be a bit disgusting, though b) it questions the clichés of representation for a number of things like the happy family, the romantic couple, the quest for identity and it even takes over the famous --already from the Greek tragedies-- scene of identification between two relatives after a long time i.e. Orestes and Electra etc and makes good fun of it. c) it references numerous film genres and uses the pastiche technique to create one entity out of them: the film starts as a quest for identity drama, goes on finely depicting a psychopath, thus getting closer to films describing mind-disturbed characters and their need to fit in, then takes over the family hatred genre like War of the Roses and continues in a never-ending play of mix and match, with a very funny parody of the hostage liberation films towards the end. d) the main character uses a camera to recite his wonderful deeds, as a critique to self-referentiality and issues of self-consciousness. These are only some examples of the thick layering of the film.

After all that fuss, yes, gratuitous violence can certainly be funny, especially if it is read in the proper way and if it gets the right distance from any attempt to be measured with aesthetics in mind --well, unfortunately issues of aesthetics cannot always be applied. But I do understand people who cannot relate to such a complicated reading of such a random, yet such a complex film; then I guess I have to add a last comment: it can only be fully enjoyed by French speaking audience.

P.S. A big thank you to Ollie, who gave me the opportunity to think a little bit more on the topic.

Did Zach Galifianakis teach you a lesson, or two?

That funny guy from the Hangover, Zach Galifianakis, who lays on an ancient couch like Zeus or some ancient philosopher (could that mean that he is proud of his Greek descent, in a way, or nobody could be proud of it any more?) and is still in the process of filming this infamous before its conception Hangover 2, taught me, among others, two things: never to start a conversation with strangers with a natural or not perm on airports and to be suspicious of certain unknown sounds that a man (or a dog) can produce.

Even if his latest Due Date was nothing much, not exactly funny, but this weird mixed genre for easy to lure audiences, well, I watched it and did not even regret it. It's the kind of film that kicks off with weary funniesque lines and at least one promising character and ends up to some soap-opera happy ending moment with a touch of generic silliness, and The Power of Love/Family/Friendship being the didactic peak in between. But, this is not the point.

The point is that anyone who looks like Ethan Tremblay or has Zach's lovely way of speaking and staring angrily at (as seen on Between two Ferns series) is at the moment not very welcome in my entourage, to phrase it even clearer, he is to be avoided at any price. The other day an older version of Ethan Tremblay --minus the perm and the colorful outfit-- started talking non-stop to my boss at the airport and I got totally scared; I got pale, nearly fainted and then tried to imitate Anniston's sign language trick in Love Happens; let me tell you: that was the only time my boss ever had the chance to forgot the sound of my voice for more than a quarter of an hour.

This morning I wanted to use the bathroom, but somebody else was ahead of me. His visit was quite lengthy and I was ready to knock (when you share a flat that's the least trouble), when I heard a sound I believe I knew from somewhere. Yea, I did, Ethan was producing that sound when he was masturbating and listening to this sound from close is not the most pleasant thing that could happen to you on an early morning. I tried to be kind and let the guy enjoy; I waited and waited patiently, then the door opened and...a girl came out.

Zach, you didn't give me the right amount of info, dude. I' m still under the state of shock and it's almost midnight.

Μόλις χώρισα

Μάλλον οι περισσότεροι εδραιωμένοι σινε-κριτικοί έχουν απαγορευτική ηλικία για να καταλάβουν ή είναι βαριά χωμένοι στη δηθενιά/κουλτούρα για να επαινέσουν οτιδήποτε στο οποίο πρωταγωνιστεί η Ζέτα Μακρυπούλια. Ή απλώς ντρέπονται να παραδεχτούν ότι μια παλαβούτσικη ταινία που βασίζεται σε θεατρική ιδέα, άρα έχει και θεατρικό στήσιμο, μπορεί να είναι διασκεδαστική, αξιοπρεπέστατη και διόλου βαρετή. Εμείς πάλι, σιγά να μην έχουμε τέτοια κολλήματα. Χωρίς φόβο και πάθος, λοιπόν, μπορούμε να διαλαλήσουμε την ικανοποίησή μας από το ευφάνταστο εγχείρημα του Μυριανθόπουλου που τιτλοφορείται Μόλις Χώρισα, να βγάλουμε στα τσάκα-τσάκα το συμπέρασμα ότι από το θέατρο θα ξεπηδήσουν αυτοί που θα δώσουν το φιλί της ζωής στον ελληνικό κινηματογράφο (χα) και να προχωρήσουμε στο παρασύνθημα.

Το Θέατρο Μελίνα ποιος το θυμάται πια (είναι χωμένο κάπου ανάμεσα στα γκλαμουράτα κοσμηματοπωλεία της Βουκουρεστίου και η ταινία μας κλείνει το μάτι, αφού τα γυρίσματα της τελευταίας σκηνής γίνονται εκεί, στο ίδιο τετράγωνο). Εκεί είδε για πρώτη φορά τα φώτα της ράμπας η ξεκαρδιστική κωμωδία των Μυριανθόπουλου και Χατζηνικολάου το 1998, εκεί την πετύχαμε με το φίλο μου τον Αντρέα που ακόμη θυμάται ότι τα ρούχα είναι νωπά, και ότι εκείνη η Λου και εκείνη η Ηλέκτρα ήταν τόσο φοβερές, που αρνείται προς το παρόν να δει τους κινηματογραφικούς σωσίες τους. Βασικά, επειδή ήταν κομματάκι παλιά και ήμουν νινί ακόμα, άρα δεν έδινα σημασία σε ονόματα και τέτοια, δε θυμάμαι ποιοι μας διασκέδασαν τόσο τότε. Ούτε το φινάλε δε θυμάμαι καλά-καλά, αλλά σίγουρα δεν είχε να κάνει με παντρειές και τέτοια. Το μόνο που θυμάμαι ήταν ότι γέλασα.

Άρα, το ότι γέλασα το ίδιο κάπου δέκα χρόνια μετά, δε μπορεί παρά να είναι καλό. Η ιδέα του Μυριανθόπουλου in full gear και με προσθήκες στέκει ακόμα και γεμίζει τις οθόνες με πολύχρωμη αλμοδοβαρική ατμόσφαιρα, σοκολάτες Lacta και τάπερ της Tupperware. Και χεστήκαμε που είναι τόσο εμφανή τα προϊόντα εδώ κι εκεί, λες και δεν είμαστε δα από αυτό τον πλανήτη και δεν ξέρουμε ότι προσπαθούν να διαφημιστούν κι αυτά τα φτωχά. Και στο κάτω-κάτω, καλό είναι να δίνουν τα λεφτά τους οι εταιρείες για τόσο καλούς σκοπούς όπως την παραγωγή ταινιών, έστω και με αυτό το αντίτιμο (μήπως να το κάνω κι εγώ πάγια τακτική, σκέφτομαι, το on screen-σοκολατοφάγωμα). Από τότε, ο Μυριανθόπουλος με το Μόλις Χώρισα πήγαν τσάρκα παντού. Πέρασαν από το θέατρο Λαμπέτη, το Εγνατία στη Θεσσαλονίκη, ακόμη και από το Βόλο και μετέδιδαν πάντα την ίδια ενέργεια στο κοινό με τις παραφροσύνες στις οποίες εμπίπτει μία χωρισμένη και οι φίλοι που προσπαθούν να βοηθήσουν την κατάσταση. Το περίεργο δεν είναι λοιπόν ότι έφτασαν τελικά στη μεγάλη οθόνη, αλλά γιατί άργησαν τόσο.

Τώρα όμως είναι εδώ και από τη χαρά μου δεν καταφέρνω να περιοριστώ στο καλούπι μιας άνευρης και αντικειμενοφανούς κριτικής. Όντας από αυτούς που χαίρονται όταν γυρίζονται ελληνικές ταινίες, γιατί μέσα από την ποσότητα θα έρθει οι ποιότητα –όσο κι αν δε θέλουν να το δουν μερικοί—η αντίδρασή μου ήταν θετική εξαρχής. Ούτε καν η συμμετοχή τόσων τηλεοπτικών και πιασάρικων ονομάτων δε με χάλασε, γιατί έχω πίστη στο Μυριανθόπουλο, πως να το κάνουμε (εδώ μέχρι και παιδικό κατάφερε να απογειώσει,--τον Πεταλουδόσαυρο έχω κατά νου).

Το στόρι ισχνό σε δράση, παχυλό όμως σε χαρακτηρολογία και καλογραμμένες ατάκες. Η Ηλέκτρα, ως άλλη τραγική ηρωίδα, χωρίζει απρόσμενα μετά από έξι χρόνια σχέσης ανήμερα του Αγίου Βαλεντίνου, αλλά και των γενεθλίων της. Μόνο που δεν το ξέρει. Ο τηλεφωνητής κρύβεται μέχρι και στο ψυγείο για να αποφύγει να ακούσει το δυσοίωνο μήνυμα του χωρισμού, οι φίλοι της κάνουν πάρτυ τρικούβερτο για να την προετοιμάσουν για το συμβάν, ενώ ο αγαπημένος της ζαχαρώνει με μια πιο όμορφη και πιο νέα σε ένα άλλο πάρτι ( προς Guzel μεριά, άσχετο).

Η θεατρικότητα του concept επέβαλλε τα περισσότερα γυρίσματα να είναι εσωτερικά και μάλιστα στην ίδια πολυκατοικία –γιατί η παρέα της Ηλέκτρας ζει όλη μαζεμένοι, Φιλαράκια φάση. Το σκηνικό, ποπ όσο δεν πάει άλλο, στήθηκε στο κλειστό Ολυμπιακό γυμναστήριο της Αρσης Βαρών στη Νίκαια και είναι άκρως προσεγμένο, όσο και τα κοστούμια των ηθοποιών. Επιτέλους, μπορούμε να πούμε ενθουσιώδη μπράβο σε στιλίστα ελληνικής παραγωγής, ύστερα από τις κουλαμάρες του Alter Ego πέρυσι. Η επιλογή του καστ είναι εξαιρετικά επιτυχημένη και ο Μυριανθόπουλος κατάφερε να κρατήσει σχετική ομοιογένεια στο παίξιμο, όσο κι αν η Κωνσταντινίδη έχει μια τάση να ξεφεύγει. Πάντως, αν κρίνω από την ενοχλητικά έξαλλη κατάσταση που της είχε επιτρέψει ο Φασουλής το καλοκαίρι, ο Μυριανθόπουλος γνωρίζει να κρατάει γερά τα γκέμια στους ηθοποιούς του. Η Μακρυπούλια σε νέα εξαιρετική εκδοχή με καμπύλες και με αφέλεια ξανθιάς τη μία, αυτοσυγκράτηση καστανής την άλλη, έδωσε το ρόλο της πολυδιάστατα, χαριτωμένα και όμορφα –αυτό το τελευταίο είναι γνωστό τοις πάσι. Σε αντίθεση με τον γλυκό δε λέω, ομορφούλη δε λέω, Τσιμιτσέλη που συνεχίζει να μην μπορεί να αποχωριστεί αυτό το μονοκόμματο στυλάκι, αυτό το ούγκα-ούγκα που τον διακρίνει από μικρό. Άσε που δεν πιάνει μία για γκόμενος της Μακρυπούλια, αλλά αυτό από μόνο του δε θα το κάναμε θέμα. Η Μαρία Μπακοδήμου πάλι που κάνει καθηλωτική επίδειξη με τάπερ και αναλύει θέματα που αφορούν το μόσχο και τη μανέστρα ήταν λαμπρή επιλογή. Ο Σήφης δε, που να σας λέω.

Το φρενήρες κατά στιγμές μοντάζ μας κατάφερε να κρατηθούμε σε εγρήγορση, εκτός από κάτι ολιγόλεπτες στάσεις όπου η ταινία είπε να γίνει λίγο βίντεο-κλιπ, αλλά γιατί να μη γίνει, βρε αδερφέ, δεν πάει και για Όσκαρ. Αφού έχει ωραίες πειραγμένες εκδοχές του Σήμερα Γιορτάζει Όλη η Γη και του Νύχτα Στάσου, ειδικά αυτού. Οι Μίκρο καταπιάστηκαν με τη μουσική επένδυση, ο Άγγελος Φραντζής κράτησε το ρόλο συμβουλάτορα ως πιο δόκιμος στα κινηματογραφικά κατατόπια και πολλοί, μα πάρα πολλοί βρέθηκαν συμπαραγωγοί στην ταινία που παρουσιάζει μια παρέα που έχει πιο πολλή φαντασία και όρεξη για ζωή και δράμα απ’ ότι όλοι αυτοί που φέρνω στο νου μου. Επιπλέον, η ταινία δε φαίνεται πρόχειρη και φτηνή, μια χαρά τα πάει στα production values, όπως και στη χιουμοριστική οδό που ακολούθησε το marketing: τι πιο πιασάρικο από το να βγαίνει στις αίθουσες μια ταινία με τον τίτλο Μόλις Χώρισα του Αγίου Βαλεντίνου. Σε κάθε περίπτωση, θέλω να καταλήξω στο εξής: η ταινία εκμεταλλεύεται μια χαρά τις αδυναμίες της (γιατί και ο Τσιμιτσέλης θα φέρει κόσμο με την παρουσία του και μόνο, όπως και τα υπόλοιπα ονόματα-κράχτες, όπως και τα τραγουδάκια και το χαχαχουχα και όλα) και δεν αφήνει κανέναν παραπονεμένο. Είναι από αυτές τις ταινίες που κανείς (καλοπροαίρετος) δε θα κατατάξει ως χάσιμο χρόνου ή θα σκεφτεί "τα λεφτά μας πίσω" κι αυτό είναι το πιο σημαντικό. Πολυλόγησα ασύστολα, όμως, και οι στριφνοί δεν πείθονται έτσι κι αλλιώς...

Titeuf super z'ero: το αγοράκι με το ξανθό τσουλούφι

Τα BD (bandes dessinées) είναι σαφώς πολυαγαπημένα στη Γαλλία, περισσότερο ίσως από αλλού. Ένα από τα πιο αγαπημένα και μακράν πιο ξεκαρδιστικά είναι σαφώς ο Titeuf. Το αγοράκι με το κεφάλι σαν αυγό και το ξανθό τσουλούφι, τέκνο από το '92 του σκιτσογράφου Zep κάνει του κεφαλιού του στη δύσκολη προεφηβική ηλικία που βρίσκεται, κόντρα στις παράλογες γι' αυτόν βουλήσεις των μεγάλων και του ακατανόητου κόσμου τους.

Ο Titeuf πηγαίνει σχολείο, είναι κρυφά ερωτευμένος με τη συμμαθήτριά του Nadia --που του κάνει συνήθως ζοριλίκια-- τριγυρνάει με το Manu και τους άλλους κολλητούς του και συχνά τα βάζει με την αντιπαθητική δασκάλα του. Έχει καλπάζουσα φαντασία, χαρακτηριστικό της ηλικίας του, γι' αυτό και συχνά επιδίδεται σε ταξίδια στον κόσμο των ονείρων και στο χωροχρόνο (κι εμείς κάποτε ζούσαμε βουτηγμένοι στην ονειροπόληση).

Τον βρίσκουμε, βέβαια, όχι μόνο σε χάρτινη μορφή, ύστερα από την πρωτόγνωρη επιτυχία του, αλλά και στη γαλλική T.V. τα πρωινά (μέχρι κι εγώ ξυπνούσα για να μη χάσω το επεισόδιο) και φυσικά everywhere to download. Εγγυημένο γέλιο, κατά προτίμηση για τους γαλλόφωνους φαν, γιατί η διασκέδαση είναι μισή αν δε μπορείς να καταλάβεις τα γαλλικούλια του Titeuf, με ολότελα δική τους προσωπικότητα.

Πάντως, τώρα που το ξανασκέφτομαι, ίσως να σας φανεί κάπως παιδικούλι. Όπως και να 'χει το target group του είναι κατά βάσιν τα προχωρημένα δεκάχρονα-δωδεκάχρονα, γιατί ο Titeuf ως έξυπνο παιδάκι θέτει συνεχώς ενήλικα ερωτήματα. Όμως μην πτοείσθε, θα βρείτε τη χάρη του Titeuf αν σας έχει μείνει έστω λίγη αθωότητα κάπου κρυμμένη.