Fans of director Patrice Leconte (Intimate Strangers, The Man on the Train) will be pleased to see that he hasn’t stopped filming unlikely relationships. But My Best Friend’s premise, set up so swiftly you barely get the chance to reflect on how ridiculous it is, sounds like something more up the alley of Francois Veber (The Closet, Ruby and Quentin), who last directed Daniel Auteuil alongside Dany Boon to hilarious effect in The Valet. In a city where the locals are notoriously rude yet even the most casual acquaintances are greeted with kisses, this comedy of manners meditates on the problems with the tightest social bond – friendship.

When François (Auteuil), a dealer as aloof and artificial as the antiques he sells, mocks a colleague for only having seven people at his funeral, he is stunned to hear his fellow diners point out that he will die even more lonely because he has no friends. With his pride at stake, he bets a 5th-century red-figure vase – which he had just bought on an unexplainable impulse – that he can present to his business partner a best friend before the end of the month. The vase isn’t the most subtle symbol – depicting legendary comrades Achilles and Patroklus, it was filled with the painter’s tears after the loss of a friend – but it introduces the first inkling of homoeroticism to a romantic comedy about platonic love. (François is surprised to find out the partner he thought he knew well is lesbian, and the sleepover party with his new best friend leads to trouble.)

François quickly learns the difference between friendships and contacts. Facing defeat, he discovers that local blue-collar cabbie Bruno (Boon) has made an art of charming people, and so begins an awkward apprenticeship in making friends, which François woefully tries to reduce to writing cheques or memorising formulas (“The three esses: Sociable, Smiling, Sincerity”). The affable Bruno’s love for quiz shows and trivia initially seems gimmicky, but when questions arise about the nature of friendship – is there a litmus test? – and the final act brilliantly switches to the French Who Wants to be a Millionaire, the epistemology of companionship breathes powerful significance into something as commonplace as phoning a friend.

While some ad hoc details paper over holes in a contrived plot, Boon steals the show as the rubber-faced Everyman who offers a new lease on life to the urbane broker who thought he already had everything. Like Bruno, My Best Friend finds the sophisticated and profound in the simple. Perhaps the synergy of relationships is an allegory for collaborations in celluloid?—Joe Sheppard