Broken Frontier

De Crecy’s anthropomorphic epic romantic comedy meanders on its merry way, in a sequel imbued with wit, intelligence, and craft.

Nicolas De Crecy’s romantic comedy tour de force continues with witty aplomb and tongue firmly planted in cheek, as the ever-practical Salvatore meanders his way across Europe, taking the long way around, to validate his unrequited love in distant South America.

As ever, the unfortunate Salvatore is inevitably sidetracked in his quest to reunite with his heart’s desire, this time by an unexpected survey of the Austrian fashion scene and a perilous encounter with the Russian authorities, when he understandably confuses the Belarussian Brest with France’s idyllic port town. Salvatore’s biggest obstacle isn’t the flighty, superficial scene in Vienna or the laughably rigid guards manning the border crossing at Brest though. Rather, the largest pitfalls facing Salvatore in the latest chapter of his saga are the temptation represented by an attractive passenger that lingers long after their parting and his own flagging memory of his South American lover.

Mme. Amandine meanwhile continues her own quest to find her missing son Frank, even as the rest of her brood determines to provide for themselves, when her innate ineptitude and perpetual distraction (not to mention acute myopia) prevents her from putting sufficient food on the table to feed a family of thirteen. As for Frank, despite living in the lap of luxury (literally), he pines for his absentee mother, catching faint whiffs of her as their paths continue to cross but never meet. Amandine isn’t without her resources though. When she hires a private detective who proves to be almost as forgivably pathetic and inept as she is, the ripe, pungent scent of porcine love fills the air, as the pair stumble and bumble their way along Frank’s rapidly fading trail.

De Crecy transitions easily back and forth between his two plotlines, weaving new threads into the bright, sprawling tapestry of this playful rumination on the triumphs and trials of romantic love. Reading Salvatore is like reading a Shakespearean comedy, with De Crecy’s pointed commentary on the human condition coming in the form of clever double entendres, slapstick pratfalls, and calculated exaggeration. The fact that his characters are a menagerie of talking animals only underscores the utter lunacy of modern capitalist society and its marginalization of such a fanciful concept as romantic love.