French Connection: Why the French ARE different.
No-One Receiving: Battle fatigue on the presidential campaign trail
Out of Sight: The poor are always with us, we just forget they are there
Center Point: Foreign Minister Hubert Védrine's global view
Sixth Time Lucky: Is the Presidential love affair over?
End of the Line: Why top politicians are joing the attack on their alma mater
Think Locally: Socialist Mayor Manuel Valls
Gene Pool: Dominique Stoppa-Lyonnet
France's Top Salesman: Publicis CEO Maurice Lévy
The Good Life: The challenge facing big government
Stress Buster: Voters want their rulers to interfere in daily life
Global Knowledge: Business understands the rules
The Grass is Greener: French farmers are not necessarily home grown
Certain Style: The new hope for French fashion
Cross Culture: There seem to be no barriers for filmmakers, athletes, authors and actors
Identity Crisis: Satirist Bruno Gaccio on his boss, Jean-Marie Messier

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Posted Sunday, April 14, 2002; 15.05GMT
Jamel Debbouze, 26
Comic Actor
Jamel Debbouze will never be accused of producing the performing arts' version of elevator music. A master of rapid-fire improvisation and artful use of French banlieue slang, Jamel (as France's hottest pop icon is universally known) mines his staccato repartee with intentional mispronunciations, truncations and the risible neologisms of an overexcited speaker. (His trademark tick of mangling soccer hero Zinedine Zidane's name as "Zimadime Zimdame" has entered the popular French lexicon.) Since his 1995 launch as an improv act on radio and stage, Jamel has taken his talents to television (including the hit Canal Plus sitcom H) and film (he's the beset grocer's assistant Lucien in Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain, and the show-stealing Egyptian architect Numérobis in Asterix and Obelix: Mission Cleopatra). While those comic-book heroes represent France's Gallic past, Jamel reflects the nation's modern multicultural face. Born in Paris to Moroccan parents and raised in the disaffected suburb of Trappes, Jamel playfully incarnates the ethnic Arab-French citizen that the nation — and the media — once preferred to ignore. "If my work helps French people everywhere understand and embrace the humor and language of the banlieues, that's a small step toward closing the huge gap," he says. "My success is also a sign that humor and talent are universal, and capable of crossing social divisions — and international borders."
BRUCE CRUMLEY

Loana Petrucciani, 24
Singer-Model
Loana Petrucciani is taking time out from promoting the follow-up to her hit single Comme Je T'Aime at the bar of a posh Paris hotel. A year ago, she was sharing a tiny one-room flat with her mother in Nice. Then she saw an ad on TV seeking single youngsters aged 18 to 24 for a game show, and her life changed. "I wasn't chosen because I was particularly gifted but just because I was myself," she says. "It's probably the first time that's happened in France." The ad was for Loft Story, the French version of Big Brother, which outraged the nation's establishment when it was broadcast last May. Despite drawing fire from the TV regulator — which ruled that it failed to respect human rights — Loft Story was watched by 94% of French 15- to 24-year-olds, and turned Loana into a national icon. "The cast ranged from immigrants to the upper classes, so all young people could identify with it," says Loana. In a country where youth culture is still often viewed as a contradiction in terms, that was an innovation. "France is a hard place for a young person to make it," says Loana. "There are a lot of them aiming for a very small number of places." With her own production company and a burgeoning career as a singer and model, Loana has claimed one of those places for herself. It's proof that today's French kids are determined to get their own 15 minutes of fame.
NICHOLAS LE QUESNE

Virginie Despentes, 32
Writer-Director
Virginie Despentes didn't set out to be a writer. "I always thought the classy thing to be was a singer or a guitarist," she says. Indeed, having dropped out of school at 16, she hardly seemed destined for success in the pompous world of French letters. But Despentes got her education elsewhere. "Between the ages of 12 and 22, my training came from punk rock," she recalls. "It was a school of disobedience." And she graduated with honors. With three successful novels and one notorious feature film under her belt, the 32-year-old publishes her fourth novel — Teen Spirit — this month. Stylistically, Despentes' key innovation has been to write French the way young urban losers talk it. In tradition-bound France, that has provoked howls of disapproval. "There are lots of things we like when they come from the U.S., but not when they come from here," Despentes explains. "France is a very élitist place. The assumption is that uneducated people don't have the right to speak." That sort of talk goes against the grain, but Despentes will go on speaking out. She's wasn't a punk for nothing
NICHOLAS LE QUESNE

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QUICK LINKS: French Connection | No-one Receiving | Out of Sight | Center Point | Sixth Time Lucky | End of the Line | Think Locally | Gene Pool | The Good Life | Stress Buster | Global Knowledge | The Grass is Greener | Certain Style | Identity Crisis | Back to TIMEeurope.com Home
FROM THE APRIL 22, 2002 ISSUE OF TIME MAGAZINE; POSTED SUNDAY, APRIL 14, 2003

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