OSS 117: Lost In Rio

In Lost In Rio, Dujardin is dispatched to Brazil on what seems like a milk run: He’s been ordered to pay off a Nazi whose list of World War II-era French collaborators could potentially embarrass the government. Ambushed by Mexican luchadores and rescued by Mossad agents who are chasing the Nazi, he promptly offends his new allies—particularly curvy colonel Louise Monot—with a series of tone-deaf comments about Jews’ noses and their love of money. As in Hazanavicius’ first OSS 117 film, Cairo, Nest Of Spies, much of the gag is how Dujardin thinks himself the height of European suavity and urbane sophistication, while he’s actually horrifying everyone around him with his casual racism, sexism, and anti-Semitism. As with Bond—particularly the Bond of Ian Fleming’s original novels—his ’60s version of machismo has aged poorly.

None of this is particularly sophisticated humor; again, it’s Austin Powers goofery by way of Mel Brooks, though with a cooler, dryer tone and a much straighter face, embodied by Dujardin’s vapidly winning grin, which admits no embarrassment or self-awareness. There’s some sense of diminished returns from Nest Of Spies; Lost In Rio returns to the same jokes, particularly regarding Dujardin’s cluelessness and social clumsiness, not to mention his Bond-esque expectations for every beautiful woman he meets. His charm remains simultaneously infectious and risible, even when the gags get repetitive. But in fitful bursts, Lost In Rio reaches further than its predecessor, delving into a loopy absurdism. Once the points have been made about how culture has changed since the ’60s, the film tends to go in circles, but at its best, it instead goes far out on a limb.