Many hilarious individuals have made their mark on the entertainment industry, but the list of true comedic geniuses is much shorter and far more exclusive. Yet, someone who seems to always be proving himself as deserving a place on this list is Rowan Atkinson, who has become one of the most cherished comedians of his generation, someone whose entire career has been filled with comedic gems that capture our attention and keep us engaged, and unlike many of his contemporaries, who tended to rest on their laurels after creating one or two iconic characters, Atkinson continued to experiment, creating a number of fascinating works that range from the pitch black satire of Blackadder to the goofy insanity of Johnny English, with the works that exist in between being just as inspired. However, we’d be foolish to suggest that his greatest creation was anything other than Mr Bean, the adorable eccentric whose gleeful disposition, childlike sense of wonder and unexpected ingenuity have made him a truly beloved figure, and a cultural touchstone the likes of which rarely come about anymore. After a relatively well-received run on television, Atkinson and co-creator Richard Curtis sought out ways to expand on the character’s repertoire and helped guide him to the cinema in the form of two feature films, the latter of which is the topic of discussion for today. Mr Bean’s Holiday is quite an achievement – bringing this iconic character to an even wider audience for the second time – and while the first attempt to etch the character into cinematic law a decade earlier in Bean is probably the better film on a narrative level, its difficult to not find this just as endearing, with his exploits through the south of France laying the foundation for a truly hilarious, off-the-wall comedy that is as funny today as it was nearly two decades ago.

One of the major mistakes made by those who undergo the process of transferring something that originated on television to film is the belief that audiences will not only expect something extremely similar to what they grew to love but that it will be the ideal method. The adage of “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” doesn’t always apply to television-to-film adaptations, and we’ve seen many people falter when they are under the misguided assumption that what they need to be doing is essentially making a feature-length version of one of their television episodes. Considering how seemingly limited the scope of opportunities in which we could use the character of Mr Bean appeared to be, making a film that was essentially a ninety-minute episode was not a bad decision until we started to realize that there was a lot more to the film than we initially expected. The directorial reigns were handed over to Steve Bendelack, who had some experience bringing beloved British television characters to the screen, working with the likes of The League of Gentlemen and Harry Hill in their efforts to adapt the characters to film – and while he’s not a particularly well-known director, he’s certainly someone who understands the very narrow boundary that needed to be navigated to make a film that was close enough to the programme to be recognizable and capture that same spark of insanity, but also different enough to be considered an event all on its own. There is something very special about how everyone involved with this film handles some of the trickier challenges that come with taking such a beloved character and essentially expanding the time we spend with him tenfold – and despite the obstacles that stood in their way, we find ourselves just as delighted by this expanded adventure, which is equally as captivating and hilarious as the smaller vignettes that set the foundation for the character’s lasting legacy.

As one of the two major efforts to bring this character to the big screen, it is a good opportunity to discuss exactly what it is that makes Mr Bean such an endearing and compelling character, one that has become fondly loved by a wide portion of viewers, extending across generational and geographical boundaries. Before creating this character, Atkinson was known for his quick-witted verbosity, so the fact that his most-loved and iconic creation is an almost entirely mute buffoon who communicates through arbitrary sounds and the occasional intelligible utterance is quite an irony, albeit one that he has made sure to lean into over the years. There isn’t even any point in waxing poetic about what the character means or represents, since everyone knows and loves Mr Bean, and all that is required of us to enjoy this film is to be on the same wavelength as the story being told, and to find the character’s antics funny, which is not a challenge with such a masterful physical comedian at the helm. The film does expand on the character’s mythology, as well as introducing a few new characters into the film – most of them are expendable, but they do play a part in the overall experience of the film. Willem Dafoe, as usual, steals every scene he is in as the egocentric auteur whose film premiere at Cannes is sabotaged by our protagonist, while acting legend Jean Rochefort proves that you don’t need a lot of time on screen to make an impact, with his single scene (and a very brief reprisal later in the film) proving to be an unexpected diversion in a film that is already filled to the brim with unforgettable moments. Yet, it remains a starring vehicle for Atkinson, and while he may have been technically better as an actor in other projects, Mr Bean’s Holiday is a firm reminder of just how impactful this character has proven to be over the years.

Yet, even beyond these elements, we have to spend some time examining why such a film proves to be so wickedly entertaining. Ultimately, it comes down to the intersection between execution and intention – we can see a lot of the classic era comedic actors embedded in these stories, and Atkinson has mentioned being very inspired by countless silent-era actors who used their bodies to tell a story. Removed from the silent generation in terms of time, but still heavily steeped in its culture, we find the biggest inspiration being Jacques Tati, in particular the character of M. Hulot, whose exploits in Mr Hulot’s Holiday are a direct influence on this film, right down to the similar titles. Much like Tati, Atkinson and Curtis understand that the key to an effective comedy is diversity, but within reason – and while Mr Bean’s Holiday mostly consists of slapstick humour that depends on Atkinson’s physicality, there are elements of satire that we find enrich the film, even if they’re not definitive. The film is essentially built on a simple premise: what if the world’s most lovable English buffoon ventured out of the suburbs of London, and instead made his way across France, a country known for its elegance and sophisticated way of life, wreaking the most adorable kind of havoc imaginable? It’s simple but it works splendidly, and we find that the slapstick (as the primary propellant of the film) is almost equally matched by the more gently satirical elements, where the writers set out to lampoon the cultural differences between these two countries, managing to be hilarious without being mean-spirited, and finding a lot of charm in even the most simple of comparisons. Even the latter portions, which spoof the highbrow grandeur of the Cannes Film Festival, are done with affection and class, which proves that to make the silliest of comedies, you need to have a solid understanding of exactly what is being parodied, and Mr Bean’s Holiday achieves it with flying colours.

Perhaps an odd sentiment, but Mr Bean’s Holiday is technically a perfect film if we look at it from the perspective of how it did what it intended to do, and how it achieved a few fundamental tasks that needed to be done to be successful. It’s a fascinating film about cultural differences, told through the perspective of a lovable character whose perspective is always fresh and interesting in ways that are sometimes unexpectedly moving. Logic is not a factor in this film, and we find that the best moments are those in which chaos reigns supreme and nothing is ever intended to make sense, which allows us to check rational thought at the door and simply surrender to the hilarious madness that defines this film. Well-made (some of the setpieces in the film are genuinely quite beautiful, and they truly do take advantage of the idyllic surroundings throughout the film) and hilariously charming, Mr Bean’s Holiday is an absolute delight, and it even rewards multiple viewings, since we find new details every time we revisit it, which is a sign of a lot of intelligence going into this wacky story. To date, this is one of the final major works Atkinson has done centred around this character (with only his work on the animated version of the character still existing, and a few minor appearances, such as an unforgettable segment at the opening of the 2012 Summer Olympics in London), it is bound to play a part in his lasting legacy – and what better way to explain the appeal of such a character and the chaos he inspires than having the entire cast assembled on a beautiful beach, singing a beautiful rendition of Charles Trenet’s timeless “La Mer”, a song that serves as much more than a simple recurring motif in this film. As a whole, Mr Bean’s Holiday is just a charming comedy with a lot of heart, and considering this is all it is intended to be, we struggle to find fault anywhere in this film.