A gab-happy idiot and a professional criminal form an unlikely partnership after a spell inside. Comedy starring Jean Reno and Gérard Depardieu, and written and directed by Francis Veber Great Britain and France are two nations divided by language, a 25-mile stretch of water and a sense of humour. In Britain, Benny Hill was a saucy seaside postcard-style comic. In France, he is considered one of the great performance artists of the post-war years. Likewise, Jerry Lewis is largely known by Brits as the whiny, not especially funny bloke who used to stand in Dean Martin‘s shadow. Across La Manche, they made the star of The Nutty Professor a Commander in The Order Of Arts And Letters.

It‘s this difference of opinion over what constitutes comedy that might explain why Shut Up - a huge hit in French-speaking territories - has taken a long while to arrive over here and doesn‘t really feel worth the wait. The film‘s writer-director, Francis Veber, is considered by some to be the Billy Wilder of French cinema, a description that should raise a laugh from all except those who think Richard Curtis is the British answer to Robert Altman. But if Veber‘s comedy doesn‘t travel particularly well, Shut Up is markedly more amusing and better performed than 1993‘s The Visitors and 1991‘s Mon Père, Ce Héros, two earlier French funnies from leading men Jean Reno and Gerard Depardieu.

Quentin (Depardieu) is the world‘s dopiest criminal - a man who, in the admittedly rather amusing opening scene, robs a Bureau de Change believing it to be a bank. Banged up, the motor-mouthed Quentin proceeds to annoy a string of cellmates, resulting in his being incarcerated with tough guy Ruby (Reno). A man of few words, Ruby‘s the sort of person who lets their fists do the talking. He has nothing in common with the oafish Quentin and so, naturally, they go into business with one another. If Francis Veber has anything in common with Billy Wilder it‘s that he tries his hands at all forms of comedy, from obvious slapstick to witty wordplay and back again. The problem is, you have to be a genius like Wilder to make a scattergun approach work - even the great man had his off days as Kiss Me, Stupid proved. As it is, Shut Up is as funny as often as it is unamusing which isn‘t a bad ratio. But since the gags that fail dilute the jokes that follow, it‘s not long before the awkward silences set in.

Still, as it is hard to remember the last decent Gérard Depardieu film, you might struggle to recall him being funnier (or thinner) than he is here. Jean Reno, on the other hand, sends up his reputation with considerably more success than he did in Steve Martin‘s remake of The Pink Panther. While it‘s no laugh riot, Shut Up shares some pleasing similarity with Veber‘s best films (The Closet, The Dinner Game).