François' challenge: make un ami

Some of the best buddy movies are about two people who aren't even buddies at all — at least, not for a while. Consider "My Best Friend," from that French master of elegant character study, Patrice Leconte ("The Man on the Train," "Intimate Strangers"). François (Daniel Auteuil) is a stylish Paris antiques dealer with no friends; he's thoughtless and huffy, showing little interest in the lives of those around him. At a dinner party, he's confronted with the truth: None of his colleagues like him. One of them makes a wager with him, involving a very valuable antique vase: If he can produce evidence of actually having a best friend, he can keep it.

After an embarrassing (and very funny) scene in a bookshop, as clerks bellow questions to each other in response to his whispered request for the book "How to Make Friends," François gets down to business. The target of his interest is Bruno (Dany Boon), a baby-faced, trivia-loving cab driver who seems to have a gift for friendship. For a price, he agrees to coach François, drilling him in the three S's: sociable, smiling, sincere. François has no knack for this sort of thing — when he tries to buy a round of drinks in a cafe, everyone leaves — but gradually he and Bruno form an up-and-down bond, cemented in a wistful late scene involving the French version of "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire."

Leconte and screenwriter Jérôme Tonnerre shape the movie expertly, effortlessly balancing the story's humor and pathos — you feel sorry for François, even as you're laughing at him. Auteuil, with his perpetual expression of concern occasionally amplifying into vague alarm (François is ever-suspicious, though it's never entirely clear what he's suspicious of), also finds just the right notes for his unlovable role. Ultimately, "My Best Friend" is everything François is not: charming, lighthearted, immensely likable. Watching it is like spending 90 minutes with a good friend: You'll revel in the pleasure of its company, and remember your time together with a smile.

Moira Macdonald: 206-464-2725 or mmacdonald@seattletimes.com