Let’s just cut to the chase. Penises are funny. They are inherently kind of hilarious both in design and in how much male self-worth is tied up in an organ with a thousand nicknames, none of them complimentary.
French sex comedy Zénithal finds humor in both aspects of viande et deux légumes. Acquired by Dark Star Pictures ahead of its international premiere at Fantastic Fest, it’s a raucous satire of the conflict between the two heads, and the resultant confusion about modern masculinity.
Zénithal is a direct sequel to director Jean-Baptiste Saurel’s 2012 short “Le Bifle” (quite literally, “The Dickslap”). It finds video store owner Francis (Franc Bruneau) now running a laundry with his best friend, Marcus (Cyril Gueï), while his old nemesis, hardcore kung fu master Ti-Kong (Thevada Dek), has put away his three-foot penis and become a motivational speaker. Yes, that’s a lot of backstory – especially the whole three-foot penis thing. Fortunately, Saurel reuses section of “Le Bifle” as opening act flashbacks to set up what’s happened in the intervening decade, and why the relationship between Francis and his partner and former co-star in Ti-Kong’s movies, Sonia (Vanessa Guide) has gone so stale.
The success of Zénithal depends on exactly how funny you find what Joe-Bob Briggs would likely call dick-fu. Luckily, no one is immune to a quick prick-related chortle, and that’s fortunate for Saurel because there’s a huge amount of penis-related comedy here that would be more disturbing if it wasn’t so absurd. (Saurel also makes sure to obscure as much wang as possible, either through pixelation, voluminous tracksuit pants, or plate mail armor, to keep the comedy this side of an R rating). Men are constantly wrestling with their junk, either literally or metaphorically, especially when a villain arrives who is a mix of Andrew Tate and Vector from Despicable Me. In fact, Despicable Me seems to be a major influence since both plots revolve around an idiotic scheme involving the moon.
Saurel is a deft hand with all this phallic humor, constantly hitting the ball(s) out of the park by being surprisingly understated. There’s a charming dryness to the performances that never seems arch: Guide in particular catches that almost-knowing edge that Saurel seems to seek, that kind of gentle self-mockery and self-awareness that allowed the Airplane! and Naked Gun films to grind on the fourth wall without penetrating it. Men may be trying to get to the root of their pant-based problems, but it’s also the women in their lives whose happiness and independence are under the chopper.
Unsurprisingly, this is a hand-crafted affair that revels in its silly staginess – as the old saying goes, it’s not the size of your budget, it’s what you do with it. This actually allows the script, written by Saurel and Elodie Wallace, to rely mostly on quick-witted dialogue in between a series of increasingly ridiculous set pieces. The mounting silliness can sometimes deflate the comedy, as the funniest sequence is an early walk-through of a penis-related crime scene with basketball-sized blood prints. Yet amid all the goofiness, Zénithal actually carries a very sweet and eternally timely lesson about understanding between the sexes. It turns out that passion and compassion make the best bedfellows after all.
Zénithal
France, 2024, 80 min.
International Premiere
Wednesday 25, 11:20am
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This article appears in September 20 • 2024.
