The Players

Imagine winning the Academy Award for Best Actor, becoming the first Frenchman to ever do so, and having the entire world expect you to become the next suave Hollywood leading man. Most people would have chased a franchise or a prestige drama. Jean Dujardin, fresh off his The Artist (2011) sweep, decided to go home and make a movie about men being absolute, unmitigated trash.

The Players (originally Les Infidèles) is a fascinating relic of that 2012 cultural moment. It’s a sketch-comedy anthology that feels like a middle finger to the "clean" image Dujardin cultivated during his Oscar campaign. Along with his real-life best friend Gilles Lellouche, he co-wrote, co-produced, and co-directed this series of vignettes centered on one singular, messy topic: male infidelity. I watched this on a Tuesday night while wearing a pair of socks with a hole in the big toe, which felt oddly appropriate for a movie about people trying to hide their glaring flaws.

The Art of Being Awful

The film operates as a series of short stories, each helmed by a different director—including Michel Hazanavicius, who directed Dujardin to his Oscar glory. This gives the movie a jagged, uneven energy that I actually find quite charming. One minute you’re watching a broad, slapstick sequence about two guys trying to sneak out of a hotel, and the next you’re dropped into a claustrophobic, dialogue-heavy drama about a marriage dissolving in real-time.

Jean Dujardin and Gilles Lellouche play multiple characters throughout, essentially treating the film like an expensive playground for their own chemistry. They are clearly having the time of their lives, and that enthusiasm is infectious, even when the characters they’re playing are loathsome. In the "prologue," they play Fred and Greg, two high-rolling philanderers who treat cheating like a professional sport. Their rapport is so natural that it feels like watching two toddlers discover fire and immediately trying to use it to light a cigarette.

A Mixed Bag of Betrayal

As with any anthology, the quality fluctuates wildly. The segment "The Dentist," directed by Hazanavicius, is a highlight—a darkly funny look at the paranoia that sets in when a cheater thinks he’s being cheated on. It’s snappy, visually inventive, and reminds me why that director/actor duo works so well together.

However, the standout for me—and the one that provides the film’s only real soul—is "The Question," directed by Emmanuelle Bercot (Mon Roi). In this segment, Dujardin and his then-wife Alexandra Lamy (who starred with him in the French hit Un gars, une fille) play a couple in a hotel room. She asks if he’s ever been unfaithful, and the resulting twenty-minute psychological war is genuinely uncomfortable to watch. It’s the only part of the film that acknowledges the actual human cost of the "fun" the other segments depict. Seeing a real-life couple navigate that scripted tension adds a layer of meta-commentary that hits like a bucket of ice water to the face.

The film also captures that specific 2010-2012 aesthetic—the transition where iPhones were becoming the ultimate tools for both facilitating and catching an affair. There’s a lot of "hide the phone" comedy that feels very "of its era" but remains relatable because, let’s be honest, the tech changes but the panic stays the same.

The Controversy and the Context

Back in 2012, this movie caused a massive stir in France before it even opened. The promotional posters, which featured Lellouche and Dujardin in suggestive poses with women’s legs, were actually banned from the streets of Paris for being "degrading." It’s a reminder that this film was intentionally pushing buttons, trying to revive the spirit of the 1970s Italian "sex comedies" (like I Mostri) in a modern landscape that was quickly losing its patience for the "lovable rogue" archetype.

Looking back at it now, The Players feels like a last hurrah for a certain type of brazen, masculine French comedy. It’s messy, often sexist, occasionally brilliant, and never boring. It’s the kind of project that only gets made when a star has enough "clout" to do whatever he wants, and Dujardin chose to spend his golden ticket on a movie that is essentially a 109-minute confession of man's worst impulses.

The "hit" ratio of the sketches is probably around 60%, which is better than most anthologies. While the Vegas-set finale feels a bit bloated and unnecessary, the sheer charisma of the two leads carries the thinner material. It’s a movie that doesn't ask for your approval, just your attention—a polarizing, sweaty, and occasionally hilarious exploration of why people who have everything still feel the need to risk it all for a mediocre weekend in a cheap motel.

Trivia You Might Like

The US release was significantly edited; several segments were removed or re-ordered to try and make it more palatable for international audiences. The segment "The Question" was shot in a single hotel room over just a few days, leaning into the theater-like intensity of the script. Despite the star power, the film had a very modest release in the States, mostly finding its audience later on DVD and early streaming platforms as a "hidden gem" for fans of The Artist*.