Jacques Tati directs himself, Nathalie Pascaud, Micheline Rolla, Barbara Dennek, Rita Maiden and France Rumilly in this double bill of French sight gag comedy.

When it comes to “silent” visual comedy I like the violent wallop of a Laurel & Hardy (or a Tom & Jerry). Then, next in the pecking order, are the zany stunts of a Keaton or a Lloyd. But bottom of the rankings is that sentimental arrogant whimsy of Chaplin. I will deep dive and reassess Charlie eventually. I have a blu ray box set that has been left in its cellophane for over a decade. But Tati sails dangerously close to what rubbed me the wrong way about Chaplin. It is too artful, too laboured, too persuasive and too ephemeral. I care less for satire than I do for timber to the head and hammers to shoes. I’m a dolt but watching these “classic artworks” often feels like eating my greens. Waiting to recognise the intelligence of the visionary. Not laughing. The final hour of Playtime hits some good, escalating gags. And is somewhat less racist than Peter Seller’s run at almost exactly the same jokes in The Party.

6/7