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A cinematic gem, carefully preserved by the INA (National Audiovisual Institute) and brought to light by France Culture, reveals André Bourvil and Louis de Funès in a captivating television advertisement for Gérard Oury‘s film, The Sucker. They star in this promo, unaware that the movie would achieve extraordinary box office success (over 11 million viewers) and become a television staple.
Bourvil’s acting prowess: A consequence of script misunderstanding?
The promotional spot showcases the actors’ playful banter, a departure from typical promotional materials. The significance of Bourvil’s glass remains uncertain, but the interaction initiates with a lighthearted disagreement about comprehending the screenplay. When his co-star accuses him of never grasping the narrative, Bourvil wittily retorts, “My superb performance stems from my complete lack of understanding.” Funès then narrates the film’s opening, detailing how his villainous character persuades the amiable Bourvil to transport a Cadillac DeVille convertible, brimming with narcotics, adorned with golden bumpers and a diamond-encrusted steering wheel hub—the infamous Youkounkoun.
Afterward, their conversation shifted from the film itself to more personal recollections. While the reserved Louis de Funès remained tight-lipped, Bourvil readily shared memories of his first vehicle, a car, as he put it, “that started with a hand crank and moved at a snail’s pace.” The performer recounted an incident where a cyclist overtook him. He immediately exited the vehicle to restart it, convinced of a malfunction. “And my car promptly ran me over. I wasn’t upset, though.” Whether this tale is
Bourvil’s unassuming nature and de Funès’ exaggerated composure appear to elevate Bourvil’s performance, propelling the narrative forward to a new episode involving a musician companion possessing a sizable American automobile. The crux of the matter? A leisurely drive with acquaintances, the sighting of a 2CV, a strategic positioning directly in front, and a deliberate crawl until the 2CV driver’s patience is exhausted. At this juncture, a passenger in the larger vehicle retreats to the rear, lowers his trousers, and affixes his posterior to the rear window, ensuring full visibility for the small family within the 2CV. This incident fails to elicit even a chuckle from the overly refined and impassive de Funès, his comedic sensibilities clearly at odds with such antics. Within four minutes, these two strikingly dissimilar yet equally charming personalities—the white clown and the august clown—showcase contrasting comedic approaches, both equally masterful in their execution.
