A young bachelor eccentrically lives the imaginative life of the daydreaming mind, and sees no need to embrace the rituals generally distinguishing adult life.
His books and posters and music and films are artistically preferable to in-depth discussions, and inspire less quotidian materialistic dialogues throughout the idle instructional day.
But his parents see a difficult future for their adored son if he doesn't marry, and adamantly encourage him to seek relationships and stop obsessing about pop music.
Unfortunately, he's constructively lived most of his life at play in his room, and has no idea how to talk to others or indeed even start a conversation.
A series of awkward random shenanigans mischievously and haphazardly ensure, but nothing compares to the stunning stars he routinely sees on television.
He often proposes to the striking tenant who rents a room downstairs in his house, but she can't understand a word he's saying and they remain linguistically divided.
In a last ditch effort he seeks to meet his heart's desire, a famous singer.
Working his way in behind the scenes.
To his grand existential disillusionment.
You don't see this subject taken seriously in that many sympathetic feature length films, the sequestered perennial youth at habitual odds with relational maturity.
But rather than lump him in with wild lunatics which at times happens in such scenarios, a way is found to compassionately showcase his alternative manners and social expressions.
The behaviour isn't vilified there's sympathy for the amorous non-conformist, a comic account much more conducive to eventual communal integration.
I suppose I've never investigated how often this type of narrative shows up in film, I just know I rarely see it and have only really heard it mentioned in British pop songs.
I'm therefore quite impressed with Pierre Étaix's lighthearted cinematic début.
Not as elaborate as the versatile Yoyo.
Still sewing the seeds of daring exhibition.
