Plus: "High School".
Driss is handsome, young, black and brash. He lives in a housing project with his long-suffering mom, smokes pot and is fine with the idea of living off the state's handouts.
Still, he goes through the motions of applying for a job. He has no idea what working as a personal assistant/nurse for Philippe will entail.
Philippe (Francois Cluzet) may be rich. But he's nobody to Driss (Omar Sy). And he's a quadriplegic.
"That's a bummer," is the first phrase Driss can think of. "Don't get up" is the second.
"The Intouchables" is an amusing, touching and likable French comedy -- a giant hit in France -- about these mismatched men.
Driss gets the job. He helps bathe Philippe, dresses him and washes his hair. He turns up his nose and gripes every step of the way.
Philippe loves Berlioz, Driss is into American funksters like Earth, Wind and Fire.
As they get to know each other, we start to see that each man, in his way, is an outcast -- untouchable. And each finds a way, reluctantly, to touch the other's life.
Filmmakers Olivier Nakache and Eric Toledano set a semi-serious tone, and send that up at every turn.
Sy is a force of nature as Driss, the irresistible force who meets Cluzet's exquisitely contained, passive and resigned immovable object.
At times, the cute elements of this true story threaten to overwhelm it. Driss cracks up at his first trip to the opera and misses or ignores every social signal sent his way. But he also menaces the neighbor who blocks Philippe's driveway and pushes his boss -- literally -- into a better life.
These characters and the actors playing them make "The Intouchables," in French with English subtitles, that rare French import that aims no higher than adorable, and hits its target every time.
ROGER MOORE,MCCLATCHY-TRIBUNE NEWS SERVICE
The high-school sports drama "Crooked Arrows" has two original selling points: Its protagonists are American Indians, and the sport in question is lacrosse.
That's something you don't see every day.
Other than that, however, the film's moves are taken straight out of the "Bad News Bears" playbook.
Roster of struggling but plucky players? Check. Troubled and reluctant coach seeking redemption? Check. Arrogant arch rivals seeking comeuppance? Climactic, high-stakes game? Inspirational message about the power of believing in yourself?
Check, check and check.
Brandon Routh is blandly passable as the mixed-blood Joe Logan, a former high-school lacrosse hotshot turned real estate developer and casino manager. When Joe's unscrupulous boss (Tom Kemp) wants to expand the casino, Joe must take on a coaching gig before his tribal council will consider him worthy of being granted the contract.
The lacrosse angle aside, "Crooked Arrows" seems less interested in breaking ground than in following a path that has been trod a thousand times before.
MICHAEL O'SULLIVAN, WASHINGTON POST
The great curiosity of "High School," a comedy about stoners who drug their entire high school, is the presence of Adrien Brody in the cast.
Brody, who won an Oscar for "The Pianist." Brody, who gave the most moving, most memorable Oscar acceptance speech in memory. Yup. That Adrien Brody, here in dreadlocks, with a rat-tailed beard, playing a smart, blitzed and paranoid drug grower-dealer aptly named Psycho Ed.
Of course he's brilliant at it -- captured in full-lens close-up, eyes reddened and wide, with just a hint of twitch in one, signifying the manic paranoia he's developed in his years of growing, selling and using the primo pot he's famous for.
"High School" has a lot of the same elements as your "classic" stoner comedies -- stolen weed, a comically vengeful drug dealer, a selfish, blissed-out character whose poor judgment threatens a straight-arrow's college future.
There's no heartfelt bond between the generic main characters, no emotional drive or urgency or pithy observations about life and high school. "High School" only emphasizes the "high."
But Brody, character actor extraordinaire, delivers the goods. When he's onscreen, the lapses in logic, the lazy stoner laugh-lines a trio of writers struggled to come up with, don't matter. He's so good you almost forget to ask the obvious:
"What was he thinking?"
ROGER MOORE, MCCLATCHY-TRIBUNE NEWS SERVICE