Ill-Informed Gadfly

When Patrice Leconte directs a mainstream crowd-pleaser like this, it’s like Monet executing a paint-by-numbers. I exaggerate, but only slightly. Leconte is a shining light of contemporary French cinema, capable of ravishing visual beauty and piercing psychological complexity. “The Widow of Saint-Pierre,” his eccentric and tragicomic period piece starring Juliette Binoche and Daniel Auteuil as the resident celebrities of an island off the coast of Newfoundland, is one of the moviegoing highlights of the past decade. “Girl on the Bridge” and “Man on the Train” are brilliant as well.

“My Best Friend,” meanwhile, is predictable and borderline cloying — I say borderline because it thankfully maintains a Gallic edge. It’s willing to make its hero completely unlikable, and it celebrates a culture devoted to the important things in life — good food, good wine and good company. It’s also interesting as a genre exercise. “My Best Friend” explores male friendship within the structure of the classic romantic comedy — boy meets boy, boy loses boy, boy wins boy back. Unlike most American comedies, it understands that men can bond without behaving like troglodytes. The great Auteuil, Leconte’s frequent collaborator, stars as Francois Coste, a wealthy antiques dealer who has no friends. His business partner (Julie Gayet) bets him that he can’t produce a best friend within 10 days. Determined to prove her wrong, Francois enlists Bruno (Dany Boon), an ingratiating cab driver, to teach him how to get close to people.

It’s easy to see where this is going. And the screenplay isn’t as well-worked-out as one would expect from Leconte — Francois has a sweet and patient girlfriend whose mere existence seems to contradict his nasty, self-interested demeanor. Her attraction to him goes unexplained. The tedious climax involves the French version of “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire,” and one must accept that (1) the show airs live and (2) the million-euro question is shockingly easy.

Nonetheless, Leconte always knows what to do with the camera, and his stars reward him with precise and nuanced performances. Auteuil manages to be a chameleon while always looking the same — he can switch his vast charisma on or off to suit the role. Here, it’s off, and he’s squickily clueless and desperate. Leconte hints at his recurring thematic concerns in the antagonistic but symbiotic relationship between Francois and Dany. His cinema celebrates unlikely soul mates. He’s an old-fashioned romantic, but at his best he’s also unsentimental, capable of telling stories with sweeping resonance. You won’t find that in “My Best Friend,” but trust me — you’re still in the hands of a master.