Filmmakers, like humans, mellow with age; at least, that’s the refrain we usually hear. But this adage is arguably true in the case of filmmaker Julie Delpy, now 54. Her social and dark commentaries always had some terrific bite to them; her Woody Allen-esque romantic comedies “2 Days in Paris” and “2 Days In New York,” in particular, replete with hilarious observations on the peculiarities of neurotic people, but from a feminine perspective. She’s directed many features since, including the mild midlife crisis/pandemic-set Netflix series “On The Verge.” Still, her latest feature, the idealistic, lefty, feel-good immigration comedy “Meet The Barbarians,” is also fairly slight, without much of the amusing prickle of her earlier works.
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Set in Paimpont, Brittany, a small provincial town in Northwestern France, the film opens up with newsreel footage— the town enthusiastically voted to host Ukrainian refugees following Russia’s invasion, and a TV film crew has come to town to document the event. The local mayor, Sébastien Lejeune (Jean-Charles Clichet), mugs for the cameras, the not-so-subtle subtext being how magnanimous and generous the town is to accept these evacuees. But the limits of their empathy and much of the town’s evident small-mindedness are immediately challenged when it’s revealed that the émigrés are not Ukrainian; they’re Syrian. The celebratory eagerness quickly dips into frowns and puzzlement, with even traces of apprehension and buyer’s remorse. Brown people, Arabs? Here? Well, this is awkward.
And that’s basically the gist of “Meet The Barbarians”: how a small town ready to self-congratulate themselves for their bigheartedness is instantly confronted with their prejudices, biases, and anxious preconceptions when non-white people need help. Confront is probably too generous a word. The irony of their suddenly lukewarm reaction should immediately be jarring—a manner of forcing yourself to look in the mirror, but these people lack too much self-awareness and mostly fall head-first into worry and fear.
Do the women wear veils? Will the men in the town be allowed to look at the women? Are there other cultural customs they should be aware of? All their distress is made worse when the regular-looking Fayad family, led by the proud patriarch Marwan (Ziad Bakri), shows up, much like them but with vaguely darker skin.
One man in particular, a laboring plumber, Hervé Riou (Laurent Lafitte), can barely hide his disdain and asks the town to recast its vote, but it’s obviously too late.
Delpy plays Joëlle, the most empathetic, obliging, and kind member of the village—a bleeding-heart liberal basically, who falls over herself to make them feel welcome, accommodated, and comfortable. But even her neurosis and progressive crusade aren’t as funny or clever as they should be.
Some of the xenophobic and bigoted comedy is awkward at first, and one supposes that’s the intention of trying to create friction. Just the use of Arab in the French language feels a little bit more pointed and outwardly racist than might feel comfortable.
While the town and its people try and play polite at first, anxiety seems to get the better of most of them. At one point, hateful graffiti that reads, “Welcome Barbarians,” and of course, the irony of it all—reasonably obvious, of course— is that the people of Paimpont are the true uncouth brutes of this scenario.
Joëlle’s best friend, Anne Poudoulec (Sandrine Kiberlain), is one of those sympathetic to the refugees, but her husband (Mathieu Demy), a philander having an affair with the local butcher, begins to gaslight her into believing she can’t think for herself and follows Joëlle like a lost puppy— which triggers her insecurities as deep down she knows something is off with her life.
“Meet The Barbarians” fairs a little bit better when it gets into more dramedy territory, with Marwan and the Fayads having to deal with the indignity of their circumstances and the uneasy notions of feeling unwanted and unwelcome. A few scenes depicting the horrors of the Syrian war are quite harrowing. Still, of course, the idiots of Paimpont, especially the cynical and insufferable Hervé (played way too broad and unconvincing by Lafitte), believe this is just a trick meant to engender sympathy and force goodwill. The appearance of White Nationalists also tips the scales a little bit more, hinting at something darker that will loom into the movie. But there’s no payoff, and it never arrives—instead, it is just a sensational, fleeting complication to raise the stakes briefly.
If anything, ‘Barbarians’ is at least smart enough to give the Fayads a voice and perspective. Much of their story is about the trauma they’ve experienced and the disappointment they face in this close-minded village. Worse, they yearn for the comfort of home despite all the horrors they fled, which underscores the lonely alienation and isolation of immigrants. That said, it’s a film about white French people grappling with bias, so it’s their movie first and foremost.
Ultimately, “Meet The Barbarians” is a feel-good comedy about integration featuring a tone meant to be touching, light, and diverting. It’s also in many ways a comedy of social errors, especially in the beginning as the two cultures clash and struggle to understand each other, the French overdoing it, obviously and treating them like exotic animals. But how is racism supposed to be feel-good? Hervé may eventually let go of his xenophobic views, but, of course, it’s only when the Syrians, one of them a doctor, help out his expectant wife during a sudden and emergency pregnancy— foreigners are rarely seen until they help us out and then we, in turn, finally see them as human (gross). Are we to excuse the way he’s sabotaged the pipes of the Fayad’s home earlier on in the picture and consorted with the White Nationalists trying to intimidate them? All of this is awkward and not funny ha ha awkward.
“Meet The Barbarians” means well, has good intentions, and tries to comment on the often-dormant, somewhat undetectable prejudice many people have but don’t believe they do. It’s the “I don’t have a racist bone in my body” comedy that utterly challenges and blows up this delusional self-deception that many people hold (especially Americans, for what it’s worth). But it’s just never as sharp and biting or funny a social critique as it should be, too content to be of a mild, saccharine effort about togetherness, understanding, and compassion. In the end, Delpy does her best, and while ‘Barbarians’ does feature plenty of ignorant louts, it doesn’t possess the comedic or insightful punches it needs to be memorable. [C+]
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