There are two films in CloClo; the first is a very disappointing biopic, flat and monotonous tale about a music freak, which never hesitates to state the obvious, and follows without an hint of originality the pattern of CloClo's life. Its scenario lacks of imagination and pictures a tyrannic Claude François, so full of himself, so ready to do anything to be famous , and killing metaphorically anyone who's got more success than him: such a detestable character.
The second film takes place very gradually in your mind while you're still angry at what you're watching; but, as you feel deep inside that this biopic is nothing but a major failure, you cannot avoid admiring Jérémie Rénier's flawless acting and impersonation , and later you get enthused by Siri's own virtuosity with the camera (the party in the Moulin), and gradually you begin to understand that you enjoy yourself, that you don't want it to stop, never, and that you're anticipating with growing horror the approaching and unavoidable scene of the fatal shower, which leaves you, the audience, and dozens of groupies (some sleeping in his hallway) in tears... And you remember now why you always liked CloClo, why his death in the late seventies represented the end of your own childhood; such an exceptional person...
