Mascarades, Ciné Lumière

It begins with a touch of brio: a sinuous, swirling tracking shot plunges deep into the daily chaos of a market place in a remote Algerian desert village. Signs are hoisted aloft and askew, mobile phones noisily bickered over, clapped-out bangers pushed out of the way. Eventually, the camera pauses on three old men as they, as one, clasp their handkerchiefs to their noses: a honking wedding cortege is about to roar past in a miniature dust-storm to set the seal on the mayhem.

A battle of the sexes, a comedy of errors and a cutting satire, Mascarades has won plaudits on the international festival circuit. But, instead of the earnest fare you expect of a first film from the developing world, it's a broad, madcap farce and has been a commercial hit in Arab-speaking countries and in France. Londoners have a brief chance to catch it this week (10-20 December) at the French Institute's Ciné Lumière, where the actor-director-writer Lyes Salem will also be present for a Q&A on Thursday.

Salem (pictured centre right, with his cameraman, Pierre Cottereau) plays one Mounir, a likeable, none-too-bright braggart who, with his bushy moustache, nylon England tracksuit, gold chain and general air of vainglorious bluster, comes on like a nightmare cross between Borat and Ali G. He works as a "horticultural engineer" (aka gardener and odd-job-man) for the local pasha, but in his house his wife definitely wears the metaphorical trousers.

Weddings are a big deal in this lonely spot, but not for him. Mounir is humiliated by his failure to marry off his gorgeous sister, who suffers from narcolepsy (an affliction that might be not unrelated to her big brother's bullying possessiveness). The foundations of a traditional farce are laid when his drunken boast one night that a rich foreigner has asked for her hand gathers momentum. Suddenly his status soars within the community and everyone is keen to help with the impending nuptials, even though the bride is - naturally - in love with someone else.

Salem, 36, who has been based in Paris for twenty years, paints an unvarnished portrait of his mother country as hobbled by poverty, unemployment, corruption and antiquated patriarchal prejudice, but also as a place of spectacular wild beauty and one where sheer humanity compensates for a multitude of sins. Some over-excited French critics have invoked the spirits of Moliere, Almodovar, Kusterica. Mascarades is conceived on an altogether more modest scale and has a much more sentimental streak than those masters; but that should not deter from its unassuming, captivating achievement.

Official site (in French)