Five

There is a persistent myth in the English-speaking world that French cinema is exclusively composed of people in turtlenecks staring at raindrops while pondering the futility of a baguette. Then a movie like Five comes along and reminds you that French twenty-somethings are just as capable of being absolute, chaotic idiots as anyone else.

I stumbled upon this film during a rainy Tuesday when I was supposed to be doing my taxes, and honestly, watching a group of attractive Parisians ruin their lives over a botched drug deal was much more therapeutic. My cat spent the entire duration of the movie trying to catch a moth near the ceiling fan, and the frantic, doomed energy of her jumps perfectly mirrored the escalating panic of the film’s protagonist.

The High Cost of Looking Cool

Five is centered on Samuel, played by the endlessly charming Pierre Niney (who you might recognize from Yves Saint Laurent or Frantz). Samuel is the "provider" of a tight-knit group of five lifelong friends who finally land the ultimate Parisian prize: a massive, stylish apartment they definitely can’t afford. Samuel tells them his wealthy father is footing the bill, but in reality, his dad has cut him off. To keep the dream alive and avoid admitting he's broke, Samuel decides to start selling marijuana.

What follows is a classic "escalation of errors" comedy. It starts with small-time deals and quickly spirals into a world of high-stakes drug lords and unintentional arson. While the "regular guy gets in too deep with criminals" trope is well-worn territory, director Igor Gotesman (who also plays the hilariously dry Vadim) keeps the focus squarely on the group’s internal dynamics rather than the crime itself. The apartment becomes a pressure cooker where the secret of the rent money starts to rot the foundations of their decade-long friendship.

A Masterclass in "The Bromance"

The secret sauce here—and the reason you should bother tracking this down—is the chemistry. Pierre Niney is a fantastic lead, possessing that rare ability to look like a high-fashion model one second and a vibrating ball of neurotic anxiety the next. But the real standout for me is François Civil as Timothée. Today, Civil is arguably one of France’s biggest exports (starring as d'Artagnan in the recent Three Musketeers epics), but here he is a comedic dynamo. He plays the kind of friend who is essentially a golden retriever with a drug habit, constantly saying the wrong thing at the most dangerous possible moment.

The banter between Niney, Civil, Gotesman, Margot Bancilhon, and Idrissa Hanrot feels lived-in. In an era where many "friendship" comedies feel like they were written by an AI trying to understand human bonding, these five actually seem like they’ve known each other since primary school. They talk over each other, they have inside jokes that aren't explained to the audience, and they are occasionally horrible to one another in that specific way only best friends can manage.

The "New Wave" of French Comedy

Released in 2016, Five sits in a fascinating spot in contemporary cinema history. It arrived just before the "Netflix Revolution" really took hold in France, which later paved the way for global hits like Call My Agent! (where both Niney and Civil make appearances). You can feel the influence of American "Apatow-style" comedies—the rapid-fire dialogue, the mix of vulgarity and sentimentality—but it’s filtered through a distinctly European lens of style and social class.

It’s a "forgotten" film mostly because it didn't get the massive international theatrical push that prestige dramas do. It’s the kind of movie that usually gets lost in the "World Cinema" tab of a streaming service, which is a shame. It’s much more accessible than the heavy-hitting festival darlings. Igor Gotesman actually based the film on a short he made in 2011, and that lean, punchy energy survived the transition to a full-length feature. Interestingly, the cast members are all genuine friends in real life, which explains why the insults feel so authentically sharp.

Apparently, during filming, the actors were encouraged to improvise so much that they ended up with enough footage for a four-hour cut. While I’m glad we got the tight 102-minute version, I’d pay good money to see the outtakes of François Civil just riffing on his character's complete lack of common sense.

If you’re looking for a deep, philosophical exploration of the French housing crisis, this isn't it. But if you want a stylish, high-energy comedy about people who are doing a truly terrible job at being criminals, Five is a hidden gem. It captures that specific moment in your twenties when you realize that your "found family" is both your greatest asset and the most likely reason you’ll end up in jail. It’s funny, it’s fast, and it makes me want to move to Paris—provided I don’t have to share a lease with these idiots.