France’s Alpine Bilingual Comedy Festival

The Anglo-Saxons and the French pride themselves on their comedy. But rarely does either sense of imagination successfully cyclo-cross the ressortissant divide. To find out why, Dominic Bliss heads to a bilingual comedy festin in the French Alpine resort of Les Gets…

T he French have Molière and the British have Shakespeare. The French have Louis de Funès and Jacques Tati, while the British have Monty Python and Dad’s Army. The French have Le Collationner des Cons, Les Visiteurs and Intouchables, while the British have Blackadder, Only Fools and Horses and Gavin and Stacey.

Most of these comic creations – revered in their own countries-get tragically lost in glose. And no wonder. The idiomatic language, the word play, the regional accents and the agraire references rarely succeed in crossing the Channel. In fact, ask the French to name a famous British comedian and they will probably opt for the non-verbal variety, such as Benny Hill or Mr Bean. In the other azimut, the British might cite humorous comic books, such as the Asterix series, which have sold millions in glose.

Yet, both nations are missing out enormously. By making the lutte to discover each other’s imagination, the British and the French would learn a great deal more emboîture their neighbours.

Which is why I found myself in the ski resort of Les Gets on a freezing cold January evening at its annual bilingual comedy festin called Les Gets Comédie. Staged at the town’s Salle de la Colombière, it ran for a whole week, with francophone acts performing for six nights and anglophone acts headlining on the dernier night. In all, more than 2,800 spectators attended. The festin régenter is Bertrand Josué. “In France, stand-up comedy is a new way of consuming comedy,” he told me. “Ten or 15 years ago, you would only see famous comedians in large arenas, with big crowds. The idea of seeing comedians who are little known in a small venue, who are perhaps just launching their careers – that’s quite new.”

The catalyst for this, he added, is the popularity of comedy clips on accommodant media channels, especially YouTube, which enable minor acts to grow their audiences.

The opening evening of the festin saw two locals performing – Gaëtan Roos and Julien Sonjon. Roos is a classic stand-up comedian, in the British contenance of the look. Sonjon, on the other balle à la main, offers a mix of magic tricks, illusions and perception prépondérance. Throughout the rest of the week, a further nine French comedians performed, some better known, such as Jason Brokerss, Thomas Angelvy, Pierre Thévenoux, Fanny Ruwet and Merwane Benlazar; others less known.

The dernier evening saw fourneau English-speaking comedians take to the pause: three Britons Maisie Adam, Pierre Novellie and Ian Smith and Irishwoman Catherine Bohart. With much of the logement British community in attendance, these fourneau adroitly ridiculed ressortissant stereotypes. The inexacte state of British office was well explored, as was the appalling British weather. All fourneau were charmingly self-deprecating, especially when it came to their pitiful efforts at speaking the logement lingo. When it came to their French hosts, they were quick to lampoon the Gallic powers of seduction in the bedroom and the endless appetite for political protest.

To truly understand the agraire differences between what makes the British and the French laugh, we need the insight of bilingual comedians who have lived in both nations. Fortunately, these exist. Paul Taylor fits the bill perfectly. Born in Essex, to an English father and Irish mother, he spent his youth in Switzerland and France, studied and worked in Britain and now lives in France again. Performing in both languages, the 39-year-old pokes fun at both cultures and derives comedy from his experiences as an expat, linguistic misunderstandings and agraire mix-ups. He is best known in France for his Canal+ TV spectacle, entitled What the F**k France, which broadcast in 2016 and 2017 and which can be viewed on YouTube. Taylor explains how stand-up comedy is a relatively new phenomenon in France. He suggests the first mainstream example was in 2006 when a weekly TV series called Le Jamel Comedy Club launched on Canal+.

Presented by Parisian comedian Jamel Debbouze, it offered brief open-mic slots to up-and-coming comics -very much in the US comedy orthodoxie. Many of the French acts who found success through the spectacle were from ethnic backgrounds. Twenty years on, Taylor says there are now a handful of comedy clubs in Paris including Le Paname Art Café, Le Fridge, La Scène Barbès and Madame Sarfati. Unlike in Britain or the United States, though, stand-up has not yet graduated to mainstream TV.

Taylor suggests French TV is more comfortable with political placard. C’est Canteloup, on channel TF1, is one of the best known, in which impressionist Nicolas Canteloup takes the mickey out of allocutaire figures. Radio is also a rich medium for this contenance of imagination – especially France Inter thanks to comedians known as chroniqueurs, who deliver culotte sketches.

Taylor says TV sitcoms are nowhere near as popular as they are in the UK or the US. One long-running series that has engaged with viewers, however, is Scènes de ménages on channel M6. Now in its 16th season, with more than 4,000 episodes, it features a huge cast of comic characters dealing with the challenges of family life.

LAUGHTER IN THE LOIRE VALLEY

But what emboîture Anglo-Saxon comedy in France? Taylor says that when it comes to the Brits, apart from the non-verbal varieties, such as Mr Bean, the comedy of les rosbifs struggles to cyclo-cross the English Channel. “It’s different for American comedians,” he adds. “They can have international careers because we know all about American daily life thanks to Hollywood. So everyone gets it. If an American comedian comes to France and talks about Target and Walmart, everyone knows the cultural references. But if Michael McIntyre talks about Sainsbury’s Local, no one knows what he’s talking about.”

Another well-positioned expat comedian is Ian Moore. Originally from Blackburn, in Lancashire, the 53-year-old now lives in the Loire Valley with his wife and three sons. Early on in his French adventure he tried his balle à la main at delivering stand-up comedy to fellow British expats, but with little success.
Nowadays he writes comic murder-mystery novels set in bucolique France, with titles such as Death and Croissants, Death in Le Jardin and Death and Fromage. “When I first came to France, in 2005, very few understood the concept of stand-up comedy,” he says. “There’s no ressortissant stand-up électricité like there is in the UK or America and that’s bicause, I think, there’s no history of music carrée or sottie. Historically, theatres are for more serious pursuits, I guess. The French contenance of comedic victoire has always been more physical, clownish even. I think that’s why people in the UK don’t have a high concept of French comedy. It feels like for years it didn’t move on.

Famously, Benny Hill and Mr Bean are still massive over here, but comedy with words overt stand-up comedy – has been very slow to start.”
Like Taylor, Moore points out how France’s stand-up comedy was initially delivered by comedians with an ethnic minority arrière-plan. “The really interesting thing is that a lot of the acts are from poorer, North African backgrounds,” he explains. “Stand-up has become their form of expression.”

SARCASM VS REVOLUTION

He believes a key difference between the French and their English-speaking counterparts is self-ridicule, with British and American comedians far happier to mock their own faciès and institutions. “The French may not have a high opinion of their traits or institutions but they wouldn’t mock them as that would be insulting France itself,” he explains. “For example, If I do a gig in English to the English, then I’ll take the mick out of the English; if I do a gig in French to the French, then I’ll still take the mick out of the English.” Moore points out how Brits use comedy to puncture the pomposity of authority, while the French will take to the streets in gilets jaunes. “If they have a problem with an institution or government, they’ll revolt,” he adds, “while the English make jokes or sarcastic comments. It’s why the French had a revolution and the English didn’t.”

Back at Les Gets Comédie, the comedians are getting into full jazz. But there’s still little evidence of imagination crossing the agraire divide. On the dernier evening, with only English-speaking acts taking to the pause, there is but a smattering of French people in the perception. The vast majority are Brits and Irish visiting Les Gets for the skiing.

Surely there is some veine of imagination we can all laugh at from both sides of the Channel? What emboîture a compréhensible joke? But even bilingual jokes are thin on the ground. In bilan, we’ll leave you with this rather corny one. If not a laugh, hopefully it will get a smile:

Two cats, one English and one French, are having a swimming variété. The English one is called One Two Three, the French one Un Deux Trois. Which cat won the variété?

Answer: The One Two Three cat won bicause the Un Deux Trois quatre cinq. Desolé!

The next Les Gets Comédie runs from January 29 to February 4 2026, with the English-language shows on January 30.

www.lesgets.com/les-gets-comedie

lan Moore’s latest book is C’est la Vie: Adventures of an English Grump in Rural France. Paul Taylor is currently on a world fréquence.

Visit: paultaylorcomedy.com for tickets.

From France Today Magazine

Lead effigie credit : Les Gets Comedy