Two Words collide in 'Intouchables"

Published: December 25, 2011

The Christmas holidays in Paris are synonymous with gray skies, damp and rain. To brighten the short, gloomy days, garlands of lights decorate the main shopping streets of the city. In my neighborhood, the colors that dominate are sapphire blue and sparkling white.

Although the French varieties are as puny as ever, the price of Christmas trees is up over last year, but they are selling like hotcakes and despite bad weather, Christmas shoppers are out in force. It may well be "la crise," as the French call the worldwide financial crisis, but Christmas is Christmas and 'tis the season to spend.

It's also the season to go to the movies with family or friends and the major movie studios are well aware of this.

Americans have Spielberg's "The Adventures of Tintin," released just in time for the Christmas weekend. The French are going to see Martin Scorsese's 3D film "Hugo." They also have the choice of another movie, a record-breaking box office hit that Americans may never get a chance to see.

"Untouchable" is its name in English - in French "Intouchables" - and it has been likened to a fairy tale or a Christmas story.

Released in November, the film, starring Francois Cluzet and Omar Sy - definitely not household names to Americans - recounts a true story of the improbable encounter of two men who saved each other's life.

In the film, one of these men is a multimillionaire. He lives in an elegant townhouse in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods of Paris. A Maserati worth $200,000 sits in his driveway and when he gets the whim, he has the means to rent a private jet.

The other is a black man from the Parisian suburbs, the French equivalent of the projects or a ghetto. Just released from six months in prison for petty theft, he has no saleable skills. Out of work, he is also out of a home because his overworked and underpaid mother, who cleans office buildings at night, has just put him out in the street.

At first glance, there's no doubt about who is on top in this relationship, but at the end of the film's first sequence, the tables are turned. Pulled over after a car chase through the streets of Paris with the Maserati hitting speeds of nearly 180 mph, the hired driver Driss explains to a police officer that his boss is a quadriplegic who can move only his head.

Welcome to the world of "Intouchables," the fictionalized account of the true story of Philippe Pozzo di Borgo, the wealthy aristocratic director of Pommery, the producer of a famous French champagne, and Abdel Sellou - represented by the character of Driss in the film - his caregiver for a 10-year period during which "they needed each other," said Pozzo di Borgo, victim of a hang-gliding accident.

An important detail absent from the film is that the millionaire hired Sellou to take care of him at a time when his wife was dying of cancer so that he could devote more time to her. Today, Pozzo di Borgo, 60, lives in Morocco with his second wife and their two daughters. Sellou, married and the 40-year-old father of three, runs a business in Algeria, his native country. They remain close and the final image of the film shows the real-life "intouchables" together.

So far, more than 12 million Frenchmen have seen the film, which represents about one fifth of the entire population. Audiences love it and French organizations representing the handicapped praise its honest take on living with a handicap in a country which all too often ignores the needs and talents of its handicapped citizens.

Five cents of every ticket goes to Simon de Cyrene, an association named after the man who, according to the Gospel of Mark, carried the cross of Christ to Calvary. It works to build special residences where people with and without disabilities live together in a spirit of mutual aid and sharing.

But, as I've already mentioned, Americans may never get a chance to see this film in part because of fears American audiences may find it racist.

Film critic Jay Weissberg writing for the weekly entertainment trade magazine Variety, accuses the film of "Uncle Tom racism," claiming that starring actor Omar Sy, who plays the role of the caregiver, is treated like a "performing monkey." The Hollywood Reporter, while praising Sy's charm and energy, regrets that the racial angle is "clumsily dramatized," concluding that "Untouchable" is little more than a "shamelessly manipulative French crowd-pleaser."

On that last point, many French critics agree. They accuse the film's two directors, Eric Toledano and Olivier Nakache, of using every cliche in the book to bring audiences to tears as they witness two "untouchables," a quadriplegic and a black man from the projects, connect in what looks a lot like love.

In fact, without being a "love story," "Untouchable" is a movie where love conquers all: racial, economic and cultural differences disappear in a working relationship transformed into friendship. And in the process, claim the critics, viewers lose sight of the highly exceptional nature of the story and of the reality of millions of other "untouchables," be they the handicapped or the poor and downtrodden of France.

As for me, I'm one of the 12 million who have already seen the film. I enjoyed it and at times it brought tears to my eyes. Above all, I consider "Untouchable" a very entertaining movie, thanks in large part to the chemistry at work between its two stars, Francois Cluzet, vibrant with life although confined to a wheelchair, and Omar Sy, who combines the charm and good looks of George Clooney with the energy and humor of Eddie Murphy. And I did not find the film racist. Nor do viewers in those African countries where the film has been released.

However, I do have one criticism to make in the form of a question: What if Driss, the caregiver, had been a woman? Would such a film ever have been made? One source of the film's humor arises from a man doing "woman's work," cleaning up after his boss in the bathroom, getting him into clean clothes each day. Almost as exceptional as the two men having ever met is Driss's incursion into the overwhelmingly feminine profession of home healthcare. Many of Driss's qualities, exceptional in a man, are, in the case of a woman, simply what is expected of her if she works as an aid in a private home, a nursing home, or an assisted-living residence.

I have seen these women at work and they've impressed me just as much, or more, than the movie. I have observed firsthand their patience, their kindness and their physical, mental and moral strength, and this year, as I wish a merry Christmas to all my readers, I would also like to address warm greetings to Deb, Mary Margaret, Nancy, April, Bridget, Lauren, Joann, Dominique, Eleanor and the many other women working at Providence Place in Pottsville, making life better for my mother, putting the "Christmas spirit" into practice all year round.

(Honicker can be reached at honicker.republican herald@gmail.com)

Hard Times on Both Sides of the Atlantic

1850 photo by Charles Negre of young chimney sweeps walking along the Seine River

Published: November 27, 2011


In France, times are hard and getting harder: unemployment continues to climb, especially among the young, and the French government, with Moody's on its back, has run out of money and ideas to get the economy back on track.

As for the middle class, as their salaries stagnate, all around them prices rise. To give just a few examples, in the past decade, the price of that French staple, the baguette, has risen by 85 percent, whereas gas prices are up 65 percent and the price of a liter of milk, 182 percent.

The United States, with its $14.3 trillion national debt and unemployment hovering around 9 percent, has its own share of problems. Some Americans believe things would naturally get better if only the government would get off their backs. The French, deeply attached to their national health insurance and retirement plans, would certainly disagree.

As for me, I thought it might be interesting to wander back into the past, to those days when governments mingled very little in citizens' lives, to see what life was like back then. It just so happens, an exhibit at the Musee Carnavalet, the Museum of the History of Paris, gave me the perfect opportunity.

Located in the neighborhood of Paris known as the Marais, in what was once the home of Madame de Sevigne, a French aristocrat and important writer of the 17th century, the Musee Carnavalet is presenting until Feb. 26, 2012, an exhibit devoted to "the people of Paris in the 19th century."

At mid-century, "the people" in the sense of "the masses" or the working class and not "we the people," the citizens of a state, made up a third of the population of Paris. They were the workers of the city, cleaning it, building it, taking care of its children and working in its new industries.

The exhibit looks at how they lived, how they dressed, what they ate and what they did for a good time. In doing so, it shows us people who knew love and joy, but whose lives, from birth to death, were characterized by a lack of stability. The only security nets that existed were charity and the family, for those lucky enough to have one nearby.

The people of 19th century Paris were, for the most part, from somewhere else, from the French provinces or from bordering countries. Certain regions had their specialties. For example, young boys from the Alps came to the city to work as chimney sweeps, crawling up and down chimneys, experiencing burns, often losing their hair, in order to get the job done. This was a job a boy could begin when he was 5 or 6 years old. By the time he reached adolescence, an age when he became too big for his craft, his body was often too deformed for him to find other work.

Young girls worked as domestics, laundresses or seamstresses, and those who suddenly lost their jobs often fell into prostitution. Robust women from the countryside hired themselves out as wet nurses, some boarding in special institutions where they ate and slept better than they could ever dream of in their country homes. Men worked in the building trade or as porters, capable of carrying up to 400 pounds. Men and women both worked in factories in and around Paris as the region industrialized.

There were also the water carriers, a pole slung over their shoulders with a bucket attached at each end, who brought water from the Seine River to people's homes (running water began to arrive in Paris apartments at the beginning of the 20th century). Others served hot coffee or soup on street corners, some delivered hot meals to families who, at a time when lodging was scarce, lived in one room, often without a fireplace. Many families worked in their lodgings, sewing or handcrafting objects such as funeral wreaths. Even the smallest children began to participate as soon as they could learn the craft.

At a time when there was no official "day of rest," the workday depended on the seasons and the hours of natural light. Many workers were laid off during the winter months and in summer, they worked as long as it was light. Free time was scarce, money even scarcer, and most of the family budget was reserved for food. When there was time for a outing, it often consisted in a walk along the Seine, a picnic on the outskirts of the city or an evening in a guinguette, an open-air cafe where there was dancing and cheap wine. There was also street theater, with clowns, acrobats and mimes.

But overnight, life could change. An accident or illness put a worker out of a job, and without money to pay the rent, an entire family found themselves in the street. Begging was against the law and beggars were sent to the poor house. Those with a few pennies could enter a flop house for the night. The poorest of the poor became rag pickers, setting up shop on street corners, recycling and reselling everything they found.

By now, I think readers have got the picture. For the people, life in 19th century Paris was hard, and only toward the century's end, did things begin to improve when laws were passed to permit trade unions and protect workers. In 1892, a law made it illegal for children under age 13 to work while limiting the workday to 10 hours for those between the ages of 13 and 16. A woman's workday was limited to 11 hours, that of a man to 12.

At about the same time, in 1885 it became illegal in Pennsylvania to employ boys under 14 in the mines, and those under 12 on the surface. In 1903, those limits were raised to 16 and 14. Surely, life in a 19th-century mining patch or coal town was just as hard or harder. There, too, boys as young as 6 began work as mule drivers or breaker boys. In the breakers, perched over chutes of coal, in thick clouds of black dust, old men joined them at a time when men and women alike worked until they simply keeled over and died.

I recently had the opportunity to see one of those young workers in another exhibit in Paris devoted to the American photographer Lewis Hine, who spent more than 30 years photographing Americans at work. In the exhibit, there was a photo of Angelo Rossi, a breaker boy in Pittston, in 1911. He looks to be about 10 years old.

Much of the 20th century was good to the working and the middle classes, but the 21st is teaching us that past gains can be lost. Let's hope that in France and in the USA, "we the people" can learn to work together in a spirit of shared responsibility.

For photos of Pennsylvania mine workers by Lewis Hine see http://contentdm.ad.umbc.edu/hine.php. There are also hundreds of photos of miners taken by Pottsville photographer George Bretz at http://contentdm.ad.umbc.edu/bretz.php.

For details on a report by the IRS and the U.S. Census Bureau on the gains of the rich and the losses of the middle class in the past 30 years, visit www.nytimes.com/2011/10/26/us/politics/top-earners-doubled-share-of-nations-income-cbo-says.html?_r=2.

(Honicker can be reached
at honicker.republicanherald @gmail.com)