When Catherine was Great and Russia wasn’t quite, French was the language used in the royal court. For those who were trussed up like stuffed peacocks and wore wigs of horsehair coiffed with bear’s fat as they strutted through the Muscovy court, everything French was the ultimate — its language, its fashion, its joie de vivre.
My, how things have changed so little.
Now, there’s Gerard Depardieu, the most Gallic of French, bear-hugging Vladimir Putin with a new Russian passport in hand.
It was the French courtiers who codified the very notion of passports — free access for nobility to move unimpeded through the fiefdoms and baronies of 18th Century princely Europe.
My, how things have changed so little.
And it was those fiefdoms and baronies of 18th Century princely Europe that imposed levies and taxes on the unwashed masses. Peasants pay taxes; nobility does not — for it has the ability to move unimpeded.
Nobles and wealth are mobile, peasants are not.
But it was those taxes and levies that brought peasants to revolt and lop off the heads and horsehair wigs from those trussed torsos. And those that could flee did so, to wherever their passports would allow them free passage.
And now Depardieu, repulsed by taxes, revolts and bolts to the safe confines of a Russian passport and the Muscovy court.
My, how things have changed so little.
Depardieu is a giant of a man — a bear if ever there was. And larger than life too. Yes, he may be the face of French cinema who is recognisable over the Atlantic in America, where French culture is associated with fries, toast and kissing.
As a teen growing up in Chateauroux in the department of Indre, he was troubled. He left school at 15. Juvenile convictions for acts of a miscreant age. Now, his convictions are for juvenile acts of an aged miscreant; urinating and drunk on a crowded passenger plane, multiple convictions for drink driving. But the French were besotted with the besozzled Depardieu.
For Hollywood, he was the star of Green Card, the most recognisable role for the big man filling the screen with the charm and grace of an gentle giant — a human Shrek as it were.
But Depardieu is a cartoon character. The most Gallic of French cartoon strips tells the tale of Obelix and Asterix as they fight the Roman legions trying to impose Pax Romana — the peace of Rome — on the barbarian tribes. Now, thanks to those revolting peasants who believed in liberty, equality and fraternity, the French enjoy a social network unrivalled in Europe. A short work week, universal medical care, social welfare benefits that coddle the masses with such niceties as a helper to assist with chores in the home for new mothers.
Those who try to tinker with the French way of life, do so at their peril. The barricades are manned, the riot police come out, and a French free for all ensures over maintaining the society where indeed it is free for all.
Free for all — but with a heavy tax burden.
French cinema and the honours and recognition that stems from it have made Depardieu a wealthy man — apart from what he drank, of course.
For his part, he says he was paid more than €110 million (Dh536.33 million) in his 64 years as an actor, director, businessman and a vineyard owner. Heck, if you’re going to drink it, you might as well grow it and save a few francs.
My, how things have changed so little.
When the new government in Paris — those revolting peasants had elected Socialists — imposed a 75 per cent tax on the most wealthy citizens, citizen Depardieu revolted — and bolted.
The gall of it all, Depardieu says, and flees to Belgium, of all places. The French have always had a love-hate relationship with Belgium — they love to hate it. It’s a nation that managed to function perfectly well for two years without a government in Brussels because the politicians couldn’t actually agree on a coalition deal. No new laws, no new tax increases, no new nothing. Just ticking over like a well-oiled bureaucracy — as one would expect in Brussels, a city that has sprouted the European Union and turned bureaucrats into eurocrats.
To the hordes of French media who chased him, Depardieu says he’s leaving his beloved and overtaxed home. For a man who makes €10 million a year, 75 per cent tax is too much to bear.
But Russia, and President Putin, have offered him a passport.
Never mind that according to Russian law, it takes three months for a passport to be issued and never mind that the president technically does not have the power to make such a move without approval from those who approve such things, Depardieu is now a fully-fledged citizen of the Russian Federation. He won’t, however, have to line up and bribe and wait for services from local or state authorities, no doubt. Money does have its advantages in the new Russia.
And never mind that the French Constitutional Court has ruled that the new 75 per cent tax is repugnant to French law, Depardieu has made his bed in the land of borsch and Bolsheviks.
He is a modern-day French Musketeer duelling with a government of revolting peasants in Paris. One for all and all for one? No. All for one and none for all.
