Sorry, this movie sucks

Overrated and overhyped

How sad is this?

It's entirely possible that sending the audience out feeling lousy was intentional

One, two, three Freeze:am curious to know where are shootings places of the movie. Especially the Greek islands! What are the names of those islands? Please share if you know the names. One, two, three Freeze:am curious to know where are shootings places of the movie. Especially the Greek islands! What are the names of those islands? Please share if you know the names. One, two, three Freeze:am curious to know where are shootings places of the movie. Especially the Greek islands! What are the names of those islands? Please share if you know the names.

the film isn't anything special, except a subplot, which I think is the best plot, contains the best scene and best quote ever in a film.IMDb didn't let me update the quotes for the politic motive.one of the subplots is : an old french retard played by Jean-Pierre Marielle adopts(kidnaps? buys?) several dozens of sub-sahara African boys , teaches them nothing but to try their best to screw as many white french girls as possible when they grow up....he forces them to promise him. and he says, they are(the black boys) the hope of France....because he worships African culture, an afrocentrist? he is annoyed and offended by french politics and corruption? he is just a misogynist??who knows..the dialogue is very graphic, very un-PC..I don't know mr blier 's political orientation but that moment is probably the most satirical or realistic moment in history of cinema..blier was a master of sex satire.. now he tried race related ones, he won again!from other aspects, this film is so-so.. but those a few minutes lift it from 5 to 7 viewed along long time ago, until today I decided to write something about it..

Memory and longing can make of our lives a continuous present tense in which those we've lost have dinner with us, in which we can call them from the grave whenever we wish, in which we can kill them as often as we like. And if we are the pretty, hyperactive daughter of demented (Italian? Spanish?) mother and pastis-drowned father, living in a nightmare suburban project in Marseilles among the walking driftwood and the detritus of loving humanity, in which crime is a career and rape a rite of passage, we are seven, seventeen, twenty-seven in the same moment while the hybrid sounds of Euro/Algerian/Camerounian music, chewing, cursing, laughing, fighting, sexing, loving, accompany us perpetually as in the old melodrama, except that it is so alive, funny, moving, devastating and rescuing all at once that we are enthralled and left with the happy/sad feeling of a life lived. A movie to be lived in and remembered with fondness.

I used to look forward to Blier, I think because he knew how to surprise. Then his two regulars moved on. Patrick Dewaere died. Depardieu, working constantly and still talented, became fat and rich. Blier continued to turn out idiosyncratic works, but eventually I was reading about them in the Cahiers more often I could see them in this country.What I used to anticipate, was a single startling thought exercise transformed into an hour-and-a-half-long conversation between usually three, maybe four, at least slightly frantic individuals: Get Out Your Handkerchiefs; Buffet Froid; Beau Pere; My Best Friend's Girl; Too Beautiful for You. Un, Deux, Trois, Soleil, disappointed me a little because it lacks the earlier films' challenging premises. In it, Blier experiments with style. It's an exercise in form more than in thought. Though it surprises constantly, it poses nothing as intriguing as those older films' puzzles.Nearly everything in this film, even adults playing themselves as children and the dead getting in their two cents and more long after they're cold, is some degree of cliché. That's not to fault Blier. His title announces as much: 1…2…3…Boo! Cliché...cliché...cliché...Soleil! Drunken Pa, domineering mother, boring husband, exiting past fling, hot school teacher(Where are the rest of the girls in the class?), incapable-of-guilt bar-keeper. The surprises, and nearly the only real pleasure, come from the clichés' arrangement, from distortions in narrative order.Though it's set up mid-film, with references to the 722 door, Mastroianni's big scene at the finish struck me as a producer's move, not a director's. This wasn't Mastroianni's film. It was Anouk Grinberg's (Victorine). Any of many actors could have played his role. There was no need for the character to be Italian. Grinberg began and should have finished the film.