Television. "Asterix and Obelix: The Battle of the Chiefs": Alain Chabat's magic potion

We dive into Alain Chabat 's pot the way we used to dive into a puddle with our rain boots on: without thinking, and laughing out loud. His magic potion, based on re-enchantment, is the magic potion of rediscovered childhood, which he enhances with tender fantasy and creative freedom. A potion that gives us new strength, the desire to laugh, to love, to dream again - and to resist the gloomy legions of everyday life.

Alain Chabat has this crazy and precious talent: that of making laughter and gentleness, inventiveness and emotion coexist. He takes us back, without heavy nostalgia, to that place of childhood where everything is still possible. And that is the secret of his superb adaptation of The Battle of the Chiefs , in five episodes: to be or become a child again.

We are left speechless, eyes wide open, like children amazed by a moving picture book: the visual success of the series is simply dazzling. It's more than a nod to the cult comic strip . It's as if it comes to life, right down to its onomatopoeia. And "bam"! We find Uderzo's graphic momentum, this lively and generous line, but here revisited with a sparkling freshness, a modernity that sparkles like a magic potion. To make everything pulse, there is music with assumed anachronisms that make the eras dance in a joyful commotion. Each shot is a panel in motion, a mischievous homage to those pages we turned with chocolate-stained fingers and wide-eyed eyes.

Ah, those details! Those little graphic winks, scattered like menhirs of tenderness, that evoke the albums of our youth. We feel a passionate heart beating here, a joyful desire to bring this universe back to life on screen, with playfulness and inventiveness. An adult hand that plays, seriously, at becoming a child again.

The writing, too, doesn't betray its wit. The dialogue is lively, delicious, overflowing with that "Abrachabatesque" verve—yes, let's call it that—that inimitable blend of offbeat humor, finely balanced absurdity, and disguised tenderness. There's a benevolent and warm lightness in Alain Chabat's words that cuts across generations. We all laugh, young and old, but with our hearts. And sometimes, with a little pang, too.

Special mention to the episode dedicated to the childhood of Asterix and Obelix: a suspended moment, delicately embroidered with emotion. This retelling of their origins, bathed in innocence and punctuated with mischief, recounts the first friendships, the first wounds, the great joys, the small shames. Seeing little Obelix, a tender colossus in the making, clumsy and mocked, is deeply touching. Yes, in this magic potion, there is also a small tear that sometimes falls.