Okay, fellow travelers down the magnetic tape memory lane, let's dust off a slightly more obscure, yet charmingly quirky, rental from the late 90s. Remember stumbling across those foreign film sections, often filled with intriguing cover art promising something a little different? That's where you might have first encountered Mookie (1998), a French family adventure that paired one of France's most beloved comic actors with an international football icon... and a talking chimpanzee. It sounds like pure B-movie fodder, perhaps, but there’s a gentleness here that’s quite distinct.
An Unexpected Journey Begins
The premise itself is pure high-concept, the kind that probably sounded great in a pitch meeting: Brother Benoît, a kind-hearted monk played by the wonderfully expressive Jacques Villeret (who, in the very same year, gave his iconic performance in Le Dîner de Cons / The Dinner Game), is working at a mission in Mexico. His closest companion? Mookie, a chimpanzee he has somehow taught to speak perfect French. When unscrupulous scientists learn about this miracle primate, Benoît must flee with Mookie back to France. Enter Antoine Capella, a boxer-turned-monk played with surprising earnestness by football legend Eric Cantona, tasked with helping them escape. What follows is essentially a road movie, a chase across continents driven by this fundamentally gentle, if slightly absurd, central idea.
Heartfelt Performances Amidst the Quirk
What truly elevates Mookie beyond its potentially silly concept are the central performances. Jacques Villeret is the soul of the film. Fresh off his César Award-winning role as François Pignon in The Dinner Game, he brings that same innate vulnerability and warmth to Brother Benoît. He makes you believe in his devotion to Mookie, grounding the film's more fantastical elements in genuine emotion. You feel his panic, his determination, his simple goodness. It’s a performance that carries the film, reminding us why Villeret was such a national treasure in French cinema.
Then there's Eric Cantona. Known more for his fiery temperament and genius on the football pitch (particularly for Manchester United), his transition to acting was still relatively fresh here. While he doesn't possess Villeret's comedic timing or range, Cantona brings a stoic, quiet charisma to Antoine. There’s an inherent gentleness beneath the imposing physique that works surprisingly well for the role of a man seeking peace. The dynamic between the voluble, anxious Villeret and the calm, watchful Cantona forms an unexpectedly engaging core. Let’s not forget the young Emiliano Suarez as Pablo, a street kid who joins their unlikely group, adding another layer of warmth.
That Talking Chimp and Late 90s Charm
Of course, we have to talk about Mookie. In an era just before CGI animals became utterly ubiquitous (think Babe (1995) for masterful animatronics/CG blend, or the Dr. Dolittle remake (1998)), Mookie is brought to life through a combination of a real chimpanzee, clever editing, and presumably some subtle animatronics or puppetry for the mouth movements, paired with a voiceover. Does it look seamless by today's standards? Not entirely. But there's a certain analogue charm to it, a tactile quality that feels very much of its time. The challenge of directing scenes around a non-human star, especially one meant to be delivering dialogue, must have been considerable. Director Hervé Palud, who previously found huge success with the similarly themed fish-out-of-water comedy Un Indien dans la ville (1994) (remade poorly in the US as Jungle 2 Jungle), clearly has a knack for these kinds of culture-clash/unusual-pairing adventures. He doesn't aim for high art here; the direction is competent, focusing on the picturesque Mexican landscapes early on and maintaining a light, if predictable, tone throughout.
A Gentle Escape on VHS
Finding Mookie on VHS back in the day often meant navigating the world of dubbed versions or squinting at subtitles on a fuzzy CRT screen. It wasn't a blockbuster, pulling in respectable numbers in France but making little splash internationally. Yet, renting it often felt like discovering a hidden little gem. It lacked the cynicism creeping into many family films; its villains are cartoonish, its dangers mild, and its heart firmly in the right place. It's fascinating to see Cantona in this early acting phase, leveraging his screen presence rather than deep technique. It’s also poignant watching Villeret, knowing the comedic brilliance he consistently delivered. The film cost around $20 million to make – a significant sum for a French production at the time – reflecting the ambition behind pairing these stars and the talking-animal hook. Was it a gamble that fully paid off? Perhaps not commercially worldwide, but creatively, it resulted in a film with a unique, gentle spirit.
Did Mookie change cinema? Absolutely not. Is it a forgotten masterpiece? Hardly. But does it possess a certain nostalgic warmth and sincerity? Undeniably. It’s a film built on a slightly preposterous idea but carried by the genuine heart of its lead actor and the curious charisma of its supporting players. It’s the kind of movie that might have played on a lazy Sunday afternoon, a pleasant diversion that left you feeling surprisingly fond of its unlikely trio.
Rating: 6/10
This score reflects a film that succeeds entirely on its charm and the strength of Jacques Villeret's central performance. The plot is predictable, and the effects are dated, but the genuine warmth and the unique pairing of Villeret and Cantona make it a pleasant, if minor, piece of late-90s nostalgia. It doesn't aim high, but it hits its gentle notes with sincerity.
For those who remember finding this slightly oddball French adventure nestled on the rental shelves, Mookie remains a sweet, if slightly fuzzy, memory – a testament to a time when even a talking chimp could anchor a film with surprising heart.