“I won't let myself do it anymore” is a dark and crazy comedy about two lost women who have become vengeful, in the North and its mining basin. Welcome to the fierce and merciless Ch'tis…
I won't let myself do this anymore, film by Gustave Kervern, scheduled on Arte on Friday November 29, will undoubtedly be the curiosity of the week or perhaps of the end of the year in terms of feature films. The former Grolandais himself wrote the screenplay which follows the (mis)adventures of Rosalie, a rebellious septuagenarian forced to anticipate her expulsion from a nursing home, due to lack of means, after the death of her only son. She then decides to embark on a vengeful rampage against all those who have hurt her.
This vigilante from the outlying towns of the North of France, who will cut to the chase (literally and figuratively) to right wrongs, is soon joined in her crazy epic by Linda, a gentle cleaning lady with whom she is bound by friendship. Also having nothing left to lose, Lynda decides to go to war against her humiliators. A shock duo weakly hunted by a pair of cops on the loose…
After filming his previous film Clear history in the mining basin, Gustave Kervern wanted to return there for his new project. One came out Welcome to the Ch'tis a little more ferocious than under the eye of Dany Boon. A sort of cross between Kill Bill et Thelma et Louise with Grolandaise sauce, promises the trailer.
A duo of actresses as improbable as they are jubilant
Intended for television only, I won't let myself do this anymore was still screened in preview in several cinemas in the North, thanks in particular to the Cinémathèque du bassin minier. The opportunity for the local public to discover how their region was filmed and to spot some well-known faces, such as that of the former president of RC Lens Gervais Martel, who plays a wheelchair-bound nursing home resident with panache.
The real advantage of I won't let myself do this anymore is also its five-star cast. Headlining, a duo as improbable as they are jubilant: the iconic Yolande Moreau, the former member of Deschiens, favorite actress of Kervern and his sidekick Benoît Delépine, and the sparkling Laure Calamy, revelation of the very Parisian series Ten percent. The first, accustomed to the roles of offbeat or even borderline antiheroines, excels in that of this vengeful old woman. The second, more usual for light romantic comedies, transforms into a warrior with contagious pleasure. Their alchemy sparks and dynamizes the film.
Around them gravitate excellent supporting roles, from Jonathan Cohen as a violent stepson to Corinne Masiero as a baker who is a little angry at the wheel, via Marie Gillain as an ex-partner, or by the duo Raphaël Quenard-Anna Mouglalis as overwhelmed cops. They each bring their touch of madness to this delightful and unique black comedy, which is unlike any other.
