Film

We know a lot about the life of French actor and playwright Jean-Baptiste Poquelin, a.k.a Molière. To wit: born in 1622; spent years touring with a theatrical troupe; became renowned as a creator of brilliant farces; died—immediately following a performance—in 1673. (All of this will be on the quiz, people.) There was, however, a brief unaccounted-for period right before the author honed his voice on the road, which is the setting for Laurent Tirard’s speculative fiction. Perhaps Molière (Duris) was contracted by a rich cretin named Jourdain (Luchini) in order to help woo a young sophisticate (Sagnier). What if the writer used the pseudonym [Sigh] “Tartuffe”? Could he have fallen in love with his patron’s wife (Morante), who encouraged the budding genius to develop his talent? Might the whole affair have resembled…a wacky Molière play?!?

Taking a page from Shakespeare in Love, Tirard constructs this pseudobiopic from cherry-picked elements of the subject’s work (a famous line here, a pilfered situation there); viewers are encouraged to titter knowingly as they spot the references. Only the entire endeavor feels curiously labored on every level, from the repetitive recycling of obvious in-jokes to the normally sublime Duris hamming it up to the rafters. Molière’s specialty was crafting broad yet devastating social satires; Molière, on the other hand, is a mediocre rom-com that sucks up to the same bourgeoisie who were the perpetual butt of his plays’ jokes. At least he would have appreciated the irony.