The Chicken (1965)

A full ten years before Jacques Marin indignantly told Donald Sinden that he was not taking his airship to the “ARCTIQUE”, he was taking his wife (Viviane Bourdonneux) and their young son (Martin Serre) to a chicken farm. Now asides from the moral questions surrounding allowing your child to bond with something you intend, fairly swiftly, to put in the stewing pot this seems like a satisfactory arrangement all round. Until, that is, the youngster learns that roasting day is Sunday, unless it starts laying eggs. What chance? Well he’s no fool, and he knows that there are eggs in the fridge and in the shops. It’s a no brainier - well, that’s until something entirely unexpected puts an whole new slant on things. It’s really the mischievous young Serre who steals this short and amiably light-hearted feature as he uses his brains to give Marin a chance to look befuddled, bemused and bewildered - and usually still in his pyjamas, too. It’s got a lovely old 2CV and it raises a few smiles as it’s fifteen minutes whizzes by. I really quite liked this.