May 2010. R and I went to see Imogène McCarthery (Alexandre Charlot & Franck Magnier, 2010). Books by Charles Exbrayat. With Catherine Frot and Lambert Wilson. The real mystery is not the movie, it's this = There's something I have never understood: why do French novelists and moviemakers regularly feel the need to write about British characters? It never works! And when French actors speak French lines that are supposed to be spoken in English by British characters in the diegesis, you really need to stretch your willing suspension of disbelief big time. Don't they have enough Froggie subjects to write about? It's not the same when big bestselling commercial novelists like Lévy or Musso write about American characters in an American context: they know which side their bread is butter, and they realize they can make even more zillions when their formulaic stories make it to the big screen. Anyway, it bugs me. But I do believe Catherine Frot is one of our best actresses, and I like her work (not every country can have Redgraves and Richardsons, sorry). So I go see her movies. And she made me laugh again, in this one, though only episodically and in moderation.