Cannes 2026 (ACID): Blaise (dirs. Dimitri Planchon & Jean-Paul Guigue) | Review
Each year, ACID Cannes unfolds a new reel of cinema. This season, nine stories travel from France to Iran — and among them, a quiet storm emerges: Blaise, an adult animation. What truly draws you into Blaise isn’t just the way the animation constantly catches you off guard — it’s the characters. They’re all trying to survive a draining era, and each has their own unique way of doing it.
The Sauvage family remains in a state of perpetual unrest — never ceasing to cope with the distorted reality they inhabit. Carole (voiced by Léa Drucker, who surprisingly matches the film’s tonal register) gives her best effort to be a model mother and wife, yet what’s truly striking is her inability to navigate office dynamics — everything she says lands on the wrong note. Jacques (Jacques Gamblin) carries a storm of jumbled thoughts, releasing them into conversations that never asked for them. And yet, beneath the chaos, he wants only one thing: to be seen as a good man, a useful Samaritan, by those around him.
Then we have the son, Blaise (Timéo Beasse), a 16-year-old introverted boy who prefers isolation but eventually gets pulled into a spontaneous, hyperactive relationship with a girl (Nina Blanc-Francard) who refuses to settle for anything ordinary. Slowly, the atmosphere among them becomes more heated, and a series of events grows increasingly twisted, culminating in an outcome that transforms them all.
Comic writer Dimitri Planchon first introduced us to a TV series of the same name (Blaise) in 2016. Now, he joins Jean-Paul Guigue as co-director for Blaise — a feature-length dysfunctional comedy about a family so nuanced, so bursting with untold truths, they seem capable of showing the world a million things. The film reimagines The Addams Family model — subtracting gore while adding a diverse array of contemporary social commentary. Its “wokeness” functions not merely as comedic seasoning but as a deliberate challenge to cinematic norms, most palpably in the way situational clashes unfold onscreen.
The realism of the work derives not solely from its technical animation — characterized by strikingly lifelike hair and facial expressions — but equally from its contextual grounding in societal dilemmas and family dynamics, all of which integrate seamlessly into the narrative flow.

The directing duo has done an exceptional job portraying how desperately the world wants change, and how maintaining that change often extends beyond the ordinary, sometimes becoming more of a dare than a wish. The film’s communicative dialogue anchors its comedic effectiveness. Atypical emotional transitions, rendered with disarming honesty, circulate throughout the exchanges, generating momentum and meaning. The film builds a compelling hook, making viewers crave each subsequent interaction. The dialogue maintains a striking, unforced freshness, representing the gold standard of its genre. The editing sustains the viewer’s addictive engagement, transporting us instantaneously to future narrative moments without over-explaining — a technique that functions almost like a cognitive awakening.
But beneath the comedy, the film quietly reveals something else: the need to stand up for yourself. Especially for those seeking a lasting identity — a way to finally feel justified in being who they are. It asks, softly then sharply: How does the world open doors to change, only to slam them shut as soon as perception shifts? How do we survive when everything changes at once — especially those of us who only wanted stillness? Do the world’s wounds cause families to fracture more deeply than their own hidden cracks? And can any transformation truly last when every choice is measured by a judging eye?
For all its worth, Blaise exceeds expectations for an adult animation that seeks justice in the most carefree way imaginable. Produced by KG Productions, Blaise presents a fresh, atypical, and remarkably precise portrayal of contemporary social awkwardness in its chaotic form — where courtesy functions as a draining convention, while coping devolves into perpetual battle. The film dresses itself in social realism — urgent, daring, sharp — before spinning into wild, far-fetched satire. It leans close and whispers: how tangled have we all become? Then it holds you, scene after scene, until you realize you never want the credits to roll. Boredom never visits here.

Our team is on site for the 79th Cannes Film Festival, from May 12 to 23, 2026.