Alright, fellow tape travelers, grab your baguettes and slap on some sunscreen, because today we're popping in a well-loved, slightly faded cassette: 1982's Les Sous-doués en vacances (often found as The Under-Gifted Go On Holiday or similar titles). If you haunted the foreign film section of your local video store, hoping for something a little wilder than the usual Hollywood fare, you might have stumbled upon this slice of frantic French farce. And frantic it is.

Following the colossal success of the original Les Sous-doués (1980) – a film that basically printed money in France with nearly 4 million ticket sales – a sequel was as inevitable as finding melted chocolate in your pocket on a summer day. Director Claude Zidi, a master of mainstream French comedy who also gave us the beloved My New Partner (Les Ripoux) in 1984, reassembled his gang of academic disasters for another round, this time swapping the chaotic classroom for an equally chaotic summer camp. Remember that feeling of sequel anticipation back then? Could they recapture the magic? Or would it just be... more of the same?
The premise is pure high-concept silliness: after somehow passing their baccalaureate exams in the first film (thanks to ingenious cheating), our favourite slackers, led again by the irrepressible Bébel (Daniel Auteuil), are packed off to a Côte d'Azur summer camp. But this isn't Club Med. This place is run by the perpetually exasperated singer-turned-camp-director Paul Memphis (Guy Marchand, perfectly cast as the sleazy lounge lizard type). Of course, Bébel and the gang aren't there to learn sailing knots; they're there to chase girls, pull pranks, and generally cause maximum mayhem, often aimed squarely at Memphis and his staff.

What hits you immediately, watching this on a slightly fuzzy tape decades later, is the sheer energy. Claude Zidi orchestrates comedic chaos like a maestro conducting a punk rock symphony. The pacing is relentless, piling gag upon gag, often relying on pure, unadulterated slapstick. Forget witty banter; this is comedy rooted in elaborate booby traps, impossible situations, and people getting covered in various unfortunate substances. It’s the kind of broad, physical humour that was a hallmark of French comedies aiming for mass appeal in the 80s.
One of the joys of revisiting films like this is appreciating the practicality of the comedy. When a scheme goes wrong, it feels genuinely messy. There’s a certain tactile reality to the collapsing tents, the sabotaged equipment, the food fights. You know real stunt performers (or perhaps just very game actors) were involved in making these gags land. There’s a raw, slightly dangerous edge to some of the physical comedy that you just don’t get with slicker, CGI-assisted modern equivalents. It feels grounded, even when the situations are utterly absurd. Remember how impressive even simple, well-timed practical gags looked back then, before digital trickery became the norm?


The soundtrack, often by the legendary Vladimir Cosma (a frequent Zidi collaborator famous for countless French film scores, including La Boum), likely adds another layer of manic energy, underlining every pratfall and chase scene with jaunty, instantly recognizable tunes. Cosma had a real knack for writing music that became synonymous with these kinds of lighthearted romps.
Watching Daniel Auteuil here is fascinating. Decades before he became one of France’s most respected dramatic actors, winning Césars for intense roles in films like Jean de Florette (1986) and Girl on the Bridge (1999), he was Bébel – the charmingly roguish leader of the dunces. He has an undeniable screen presence even here, a kind of youthful energy that powers much of the film. It’s a reminder that many great actors cut their teeth on broader material. Retro Fun Fact: Auteuil apparently wasn't Zidi's first choice for the original Les Sous-doués; the role was initially envisioned for the singer Renaud, but Auteuil ultimately won the part and became the face of the series.
Alongside him, Guy Marchand delivers a perfectly pitched performance as the preening, perpetually frustrated target of the gang’s pranks. And let's not forget Grace de Capitani as the glamorous love interest, adding a dose of 80s pin-up appeal. The supporting cast of "sous-doués" bring their own chaotic energy, forming a believable (if exaggerated) band of misfits.
While perhaps not quite reaching the stratospheric heights of its predecessor, Les Sous-doués en vacances was still a significant hit in France, pulling in around 3 million viewers. It cemented the franchise's popularity and provided exactly what audiences wanted: more of the same anarchic fun, just transplanted to a sunnier locale. Retro Fun Fact: Much of the film was shot on location in Saint-Tropez, adding an authentic (and likely expensive) French Riviera backdrop to the low-brow antics.
Does it all hold up? Well, that depends on your tolerance for extremely broad, sometimes repetitive, and undeniably dated 80s humour. Some of the gags feel stretched, and the casual sexism, while par for the course in many comedies of the era, can certainly raise an eyebrow today. It lacks the element of surprise the first film had. Yet, there’s an undeniable, infectious silliness to it all. It’s like finding an old photo album – you might chuckle at the questionable fashion and hairstyles, but the memories (or the imagined experience of seeing it back then) still bring a smile. I distinctly remember catching this on late-night TV, probably with questionable dubbing, and being swept up in its sheer, unpretentious desire to entertain through chaos.

Justification: It delivers exactly what it promises – more manic French slapstick from the Sous-doués crew. While repetitive and dated in places, the sheer energy, Daniel Auteuil's early comedic charm, and the commitment to practical gags make it a fun, nostalgic trip for fans of the era's broad comedies. It doesn't quite hit the highs of the original, but it's far from a lazy cash-in.
Final Rewind: For a blast of undemanding, sun-drenched 80s French silliness powered by practical pranks rather than pixels, Les Sous-doués en vacances is pure, unadulterated VHS-era escapism. Just don't expect high art – expect high jinks.