Last week, the Odeon Guildford played host to a week-long festival of French cinema in parallel with its normal programme. Supplemented by special events, such as wine tastings at the Electric Theatre and workshops courtesy of the University’s Languages Department and Oscar Film Unit, the films themselves - a different one each day - spanned a broad range of genres, and even for non-Francophones, it was remarkably easy to find at least a couple of films of interest.

The week kicked off with the premiere of the fantastic Peut-être (Maybe), a sci-fi comedy, which immediately and effectively shatters any preconceptions of French films being incomprehensible and arty. The plot concerns a young Frenchman, Arthur, whose girlfriend surprises him at a Millennium Party by telling him that she wants them to have a baby. In a scene that knocks the hair-gel episode in There's Something About Mary right off the top spot for Most Gratuitous Use Of Bodily Fluids In A Film, Arthur makes it clear that he is not ready to be a dad. He is promptly whisked forwards seventy years, to a time when the whole of Paris is buried under a desert, where he meets his future children and grandchildren, who attempt to persuade him to conceive them.

The whole idea of the film is just too weird to have come from Hollywood, but the execution appears surprisingly mainstream and big-budget. The recreation of Paris buried under twenty feet of sand is highly reminiscent of the desert towns in Star Wars and, indeed, a quick check of the closing credits confirms that these scenes were also filmed in Tunisia. In particular, the Eiffel Tower protruding from the desert is quite a sight to behold.

It is quite a clever movie, and there are moments when Peut-être threatens to break into sheer brilliance - some of the characters fall in love with their own ancestors, leading to all sorts of possibilities - but ultimately nothing comes of this, and it is best to consider the film for what it is: the nearest thing to a blockbuster to have come out of France for some time, and the quirkiest Gallic sci-fi since Luc Besson's The Fifth Element.

At the other end of the scale, Pourquoi Pas Moi (translated as What About Me?) is unlikely to ever be much of a mainstream hit, being a comedy about the slightly tricky subject of homosexuality. Nico, Ariane, Eva and Camille are all gay and, between them, run a struggling sci-fi publishing house. They are all open about their sexuality - except that Camille is the only one of them brave enough to tell her mother. They decide that the best way to deal with the problem is to invite all their parents to a dinner, and tell them all at once. Needless to say, the parents do not all take the news well, although it turns out that some of them have some secrets of their own.

Whilst it occasionally falls into obvious gay propaganda, it is also a sometimes hilarious film, and at the end of the day, it does exactly what it sets out to do: to show that homosexuals are not abnormal people; they are just individuals, being themselves, and doing what we all want to do - find love with a perfect partner.

Love is also the subject of the Tour's closing film, Les Desinées Sentimentales (Sentimental Destinies), a grand and beautiful epic charting thirty years in the life of a porcelain manufacturer at the beginning of the Twentieth Century. Starring Emmanuelle Béart (who was in the first Mission: Impossible film) and Charles Berling, the film is based on the semi-autobiographical novel by the somewhat screwed-up Jacques Chardonne. It is divided into three chapters, the first of which shows the first meeting between the beautiful Pauline and Protestant Minister Jean, whose marriage and ministry are both in ruins. The second chapter details their early years together in a Swiss mountain cabin, which naturally results in some genuinely stunning photography of the gorgeous scenery. The final section covers their return to France to run Jean's family's factory, through war, industrial action, and depression.

It certainly is not a comedy, but it is poignant and heart-warming, and both leading actors are as close to perfect as is humanly possible. If there is one annoying flaw, it is the way the plot jumps forwards several years without any indication or warning; but since the film is three hours long already, this was, presumably, unavoidable, and the overall emotional power is still preserved.

Sadly but not surprisingly, none of the films generated a great deal of public interest. The opening charity premiere, for example, had plenty of spare seats available, despite the promise of free drinks and food afterwards courtesy of the Tour's sponsor. After that, only the mid-evening showings were ever more than about half-full, and even then, many of the audience were native French speakers who had jumped on the chance to see some films in their own language.

Given that the Odeon is the major regional cinema (Shakespeare In Love got its outside-London premiere there a couple of years ago, and more recently Dinosaur, too) and given also the population of Guildford and its surrounding towns, it is tragic that more people did not take the marvellous opportunity that the Tour presented. Perhaps they were afraid that the films would be inaccessible or obscure. Perhaps they were just not willing to give anything new a try, preferring the usual American formula movies to anything remotely unpredictable or interesting. When they get released on TV, they will probably be on Channel Four at about three o'clock in the morning, even though the films were not merely different, they were fascinating and extremely enjoyable.

What motivation does the Odeon have to try anything outside the mainstream again? Ultimately, by not supporting ventures such as this, the normal cinema-goer is reducing the choice available to themselves, by ensuring that only dull, repetitive Hollywood trash gets a cinema release in this country. Worse than that, though, they are missing some excellent films.

DA