Anémone (1950-2019) is a singular comet streaking across the firmament of French cinema. Born Anne Bourguignon in the pulsating heart of Paris, her long career commenced in the twilight years of the swinging sixties, and the serendipity! Her inaugural cinematic escapade, in her then-boyfriend Philippe Garrel's subterranean gem "ANéMONE" (1968), bequeathed upon her not merely an introduction to the silver screen, but an indelible moniker. The film's title clung to her like a second skin, transforming Anne into the iconic Anémone. This early entanglement with Garrel was an audacious overture to a career that would pirouette effortlessly between sidesplitting farce and soul-stirring gravitas, here corroborated by two of her finest films. Let's first don our tattered elf hats and embrace the chaotic tinsel-strewn abyss that is Poiré's SANTA CLAUS IS A STINKER. Here "stinker" or in its French title "ordure", is a more apt description for the motley crew assembled at "SOS Détresse Amitié", a telephone helpline for depressed people. This isn't the usual heartwarming, hot-cocoa-and-carols Christmas fare. Oh no. It is more like finding a lump of coal in your stocking, only to discover it’s actually a small, volatile explosive device wrapped in glitter. The film, conceptualized and formulated by the brainwaves of the cult theatrical troupe Le Splendid (of whose members the cast consists), is an anarchic concoction of droll, accidents-strewn chaos. It contains a series of increasingly deranged events unfolding within the claustrophobic confines of a Parisian apartment. Thérèse (Anémone), the modest helpline worker who carries a torch for her coworker Pierre (Lhermitte), is the bewildered eye of this comedic hurricane. She's a creature of nervous tics and earnest, yet comically misplaced, intentions. Her face, often a mask of wide-eyed incomprehension or dawning horror, is a canvas for the absurdities swirling around her. The ensemble includes Katia (Clavier), a depressed transvestite who is smitten with Pierre; Josette (Chazel), a potty-mouthed pregnant woman escaping from her boorish, and eventually trigger-happy husband Félix (Jugnot), who starts the film in a Santa costume, touting for a strip club and slapping a child on the Parisian street on the Christmas Eve; Preskovitch (Moynot), an over-enthusiastic neighbor who relentlessly plies dubious Eastern European pastries; and a benevolent, yet stone-cold incompetent, duo (Thérèse and Pierre) running the phone lines. The film's humor is dark (it doesn't shy of ludicrously dismembering a dead body, offscreen, of course), unruly, and delightfully un-PC (a hideous painting exhibiting a porcine connection to the fairer sex cannot be blatantly shown today). It’s the kind of film where you gasp, then giggle, then feel slightly guilty for giggling. It skewers societal norms, exposes the underbelly of human desperation, and somehow manages to find a twisted form of camaraderie amidst the mayhem. Thérèse navigates this human carnival with a politeness that borders on pathological. Her interactions with the gloriously mossy Pierre are a study in mismatched energies, an unwieldy ballet of unrequited affection and exasperated sighs. She's the straight woman in a world gone wild, and her subtle reactions are often funnier than the most outlandish antics of her co-stars. Anémone, with her perfectly pitched awkwardness and her ability to convey volumes with just a flick of her eyes, is indispensable to the film's massive domestic success. Without her grounded, albeit peculiar, presence, the film might simply spiral into incoherent farce. But Anémone's expertise is amplified by her cast mates. Each brings a distinct, unforgettable brand of lunacy to the table (although personally I do not warm up to Chazel's antics). Clavier's Katia is expectedly and hilariously over-the-top for the '80s cross-dressing schticks, Lhermitte embodies a particular brand of faux-naive French male that is a tad objectionable but oddly amicable. But the true standout, to my lights at least, is Balasko's Madame Musquin, the perpetually exasperated and prim president of the helpline, a comedic marvel of escalating indignation and contained hysteria. With the collective endeavor, the film becomes a cult classic, a yearly ritual for those who prefer their Christmas cheer with a side of sardonic wit and a dash of accidental gore. It’s a film that whispers, "Merry Christmas, you filthy animal," but means it in the most endearing, tongue-in-cheek way possible. Now, let us cleanse our palates of the delightful depravity and journey five years forward, to the verdant fields of western France, for Hubert's THE GRAND HIGHWAY. This is where Anémone sheds the comedic cloak entirely and flexes her muscles of dramatic potency. Here, she plays Marcelle, a suffering wife, yet ultimately loving, mother figure to young Louis (Antoine Hubert, director Jean-Loup's own son, who is gifted with a remarkable naturalness as a child actor), a Parisian boy left in her care during his mother's advanced pregnancy. The contrast with SANTA CLAUS IS A STINKER couldn't be starker. Gone are the rapid-fire gags and the grotesque caricatures. THE GRAND HIGHWAY is a gentle, observational film, a coming-of-age story told through the eyes of a child, set against the backdrop of a changing season and the complexities of adult relationships. Marcelle is a woman of the earth, weathered by life, fiercely independent, and prone to outbursts of temper that belie a deep well of affection. Anémone's performance is a touching showcase of understated emotion. Marcelle is not conventionally beautiful or glamorous, she feels real, indigenous, with a down-home philosophy and a no-nonsense demeanor. Yet, Anémone imbues her with an irresistible warmth and vulnerability. Her interactions with Louis are the heart of the film, in time, it reveals a woman grappling with her own disappointments and the unspoken pain of her marriage to Pelo (Bohringer), a gruff, often distant, but ultimately deeply caring rural man. The beauty of Anémone’s portrayal lies in its authenticity. She doesn’t play for sympathy; she simply is. Her frustration with Pelo, her fierce protectiveness, her weary resignation, and her fleeting moments of pure joy are all rendered with exquisite precision. There’s a scene, a small moment, where she simply watches Louis playing, and her face softens into a look of tender concern that speaks volumes. It’s the kind of acting that makes you forget you're watching a performance but witnessing a life unfolding. Anémone’s César win for this role is richly deserved, cementing her status as an actress capable of immense range and profound depth. She shows us that the same person who could make us howl with laughter at a film about Christmas misfits could also evoke tears with a look, a gesture, a simple, heartfelt word. Bohringer acquits himself as a brilliant rough diamond. His booze-induced rage and expletives mask a genuine affection for Marcelle and then Louis, betray a tragedy that cannot be erased by time, transmitted all through his powerful screen presence that competently complements Anémone's high-wire act. Adding another layer of youthful perspective is Guedj's Martine, the local gamine girl who becomes Louis's playmate and guide to the countryside's secrets and adventures. Guedj's performance is unforced, naturalistic and deceptively spontaneous, wondrously capturing the innocence and budding curiosity of her age, and providing a sweet counterpoint to the adult dramas unfolding around her and Louis. The film itself is a nostalgic evocation of childhood summers, filled with childish hijnks, explorations of the countryside, and the disquieting mysteries of the adult world. It's a film about discovery and healing, the former is for Louis (including the growing pains of accepting an absent father) whereas the latter pertains to Marcelle and Pelo as they rediscover a sense of purpose and connection through their unexpected role as Louis's surrogate parents. The whole theme is somewhat trite and some executions are formulaic (you just need some scare à la POLLYANNA), but Hubert's film manages to hold together its emotional core without going overboard towards schmaltz. And here's a curious postscript for the discerning cinephile: both of these French gems have, predictably, been subjected to the Hollywood remake machine. "SANTA CLAUS IS A STINKER" is re-imagined as Nora Ephron's MIXED NUTS (1994), a Steve Martin vehicle, meanwhile three years earlier, THE GRAND HIGHWAY is rehashed as PARADISE (1991), directed by Mary Agnes Donoghue and starring a young Elijah Wood and a real-life couple Melanie Griffith and Don Johnson. While these American interpretations (both under the recreation of female directors and both are commercial failures) might offer a different flavor, one can't help but feel they often lack the particular, untamed "sparks" that made Anémone's originals uniquely captivating and unapologetically Gallic, which induces an oceanic relief to know that the unfiltered charm, the oddball transgression and the specific cultural nuances that Anémone and co. have brought to life simply cannot be justly replicated by a foreign studio's assembly line. referential entries: Poiré's THE VISITORS (1993, 5.7/10); Francis Veber's THE DINNER GAME (1998, 7.3/10); David Swift's POLLYANNA (1960, 7.2/10); René Clément's FORBIDDEN GAMES (1952, 8.7/10).

English Title: Santa Claus Is a Stinker Original Title: Le père No?l est une ordure Year: 1982 Genre: Comedy Country: France Language: French Director: Jean-Marie Poiré Screenwriters: Jean-Marie Poiré, Josiane Balasko, Marie-Anne Chazel, Christian Clavier, Gérard Jugnot, Thierry Lhermitte, Bruno Moynot Composer: Vladimir Cosma Cinematographer: Robert Alazraki Editor: Catherine Kelber Cast: Anémone Thierry Lhermitte Christian Clavier Marie-Anne Chazel Gérard Jugnot Josiane Balasko Bruno Moynot Martin Lamotte Jacques Fran?ois Michel Blanc Rating: 7.3/10

English Title: The Grand Highway Original Title: Le grand chemin Year: 1987 Genre: Comedy, Drama Country: France Language: French Director/Screenwriter: Jean-Loup Hubert Composer: Georges Granier Cinematographer: Claude Lecomte Editor: Raymonde Guyot Cast: Antoine Hubert Anémone Richard Bohringer Vanessa Guedj Raoul Billerey Christine Pascal Marie Matheron Daniel Rialet Pascale Roberts Rating: 7.6/10