Synopsis: At a football match, an unscrupulous photographer, Michel Verdier, takes pictures of a celebrity couple. Magazine editors go with the photos even though the dominant figure in them is a chubby football fan. "So let him sue." When the magazine appears, the fan, Franck Bordoni, is fired since he was supposed to be at work. Bordoni comes to the magazine where, by coincidence, he meets Verdier. Verdier says he knows how to make some money. They go to a restaurant where Johnny Hallyday is leaving. Verdier has Bordoni take pictures with a cheap camera. When the celebrity assaults the patsy and smashes his camera ... Verdier gets some very lucrative shots. They get a tip that Isabelle Adjani has left her house. They arrive; Verdier pays off Adjani's neighbour. Verdier searches her garbage. Adjani has left for L.A. Verdier follows her, entrusting his keys to Bordoni. At Verdier's apartment, Bordoni takes a call for someone to shoot vanity photos of a millionaire's party. Bordoni goes there. As
Genre: Comedy, Romance
111 min

I can't hear...

Can't hear you, Xavier.

I'll call you back.

I'll call back.

- Coming to lunch?

- Later.


Hang on, hang on...


Where'd he go?

Up there.

I got the maid and...

what's her name?


Mondo cool.

Nobody left.

A photo-op for House and Garden.

Call you back, Xavier.


Come on,

give Guillaume a peck.



Hey, buddy!

You fucked up good.

Could've cost me my job.

So give me back my thousand.

Nice tip. Your Sri Lankan babe.

- You owe me 1,000.

- Nice, thanks.

Get over to Adjani's.

10 days I been there. It's dead.

Right. She's got a new guy is all.

Get over there and stay put.

Where are you?

Call you back.

Hey, watch it!

- Sorry for doing my job.

- Yeah, right.

Who's this jackass?

You're smart - shoot the stands!

Stick to your millionaires

playing bally-wally.


I just made 200,000 F.

Have a good night.

How's it going with Adjani?

Hang on.

He upstairs?

- Hey, Michel.

- Hey.

Otherwise, I'll go myself...

OK, bye.

Can't pick up a phone? I waited.

I'm not much on phones.

No, I'm going to deadline.

Call me later. Bye.

Julie! Tomorrow night at 9.

Gnocchi, like last time. Love it.

This one, but the guy's up front.

Who is that asshole?

Some asshole.

Guy practically caused

a stadium collapse.

Robert, this the cover or what?

I can shop it.

What's going on?

We got our cover.

- Who's that?

- Ever watch TV?

No, the guy standing up.


Who gives a f*ck?

So there's a dwarf.

- I can delete him.

- Do it.


Yeah, it sucks.

Where's the other two?

Hell, leave him on the cover.

So he sues. What'll it run ya?

This guy, worst case, 100,000

Him 50, and her, what? 40?

40? Get out of here. 20 tops.

A 170,000 F cover.

Not half your budget.

Do a spyglass effect here.

Yeah, great.

And circle his hand in red,

like he's feeling her ass. Sex it up.

Michel, see you a sec?

Lookin' good.

50 plus 50 cash up front.

What? That's two bills.

200,000? He's a TV star,

not Marlon Brando.

And Brando's only 2

with his balls out.

A hundred plus 50 cash. Deal?

Blow up the kiss,

you lose the feel.

- Still the cover?

- Of course!

- The guy?

- F*ck the guy.

Yeah, f*ck the guy.

So, friend,

how was the game?

What game, sir?


Not a great TV in there.

For glancing at, it's fine.

That Marco Simone goal? He great?

Great. I went wild.

I could tell.

You look happy, Bordoni.

You're photogenic.

I got mid-field seats.

You just can't say no.

Right. Can't say no.

Meantime, this place explodes.

Another Chernobyl.

I was here at 11.

Go pick up your check.

Hi, Mrs. Bordoni here.

I'm leaving for work. I was worried.

Did my husband...

That you?

I was worried sick. It's almost 8.

What is it, hon?

I open the gate, the car stops.

He waves me over, I come over.

Frank, I got a 9 o'clock wax.

He says, "How was the game?"

So we're talking soccer.

Then he slips it in.

"So, friend..."

"So, friend" what?


I got an hour on the subway.

I'm off nights.

Oh, that's great! We'll sleep

together again, like before.

- When do you start?

- Start what?

You're on days. Same pay?

Maybe a bit less.

Don't sweat it. Times like these,

long as you got a job.

You can't speak to the editor.

Hold on.

Guess What, please hold.

No, I'll transfer you

to our legal department.

I'll just take your name.

Bastards! You got no right

to f*ck up people's lives!

- The editor!

- Can't stay here.

Move me, dickhead!

He's upset. Better move away.

Where's this get you?

No place.

No place.

Why these fucking pictures?

My wife's an actress,

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Alain Berbérian

Alain Berbérian (Armenian: Ալեն Բերբերյան; 2 July 1953 – 22 August 2017) was a French film director and writer of Armenian descent. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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    "Paparazzi" STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 25 Nov. 2020. <>.

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