Chronicle & Humor: Gaston, the Man of Classic One-Liners in Cambodia

Gaston knows dozens of lines from French films of the 1960s and 70s by heart. He pulls them out pretty much constantly, often with little connection to the situation at hand, and sometimes in front of people who simply don't speak French. That never stops him.

Illustration photo only — © Cambodge Mag

The Secret Weapon

Gaston has a mental drawer full of tirades, all memorized forty years ago and never updated since. He deploys them with the satisfaction of a man convinced he's being witty, usually at the least appropriate moment. A market vendor hands him his change; Gaston solemnly announces: "Now, now, let's not fall out over a few coins, we're not savages, we're civilized people, end of story." The vendor, who asked for nothing of the sort, shrugs and moves on to the next customer.

The Barkeep

Gaston has taken to calling the owner of his usual bar "la taulière" — old French slang for barkeep — a word she doesn't understand, which he's never bothered to translate for her, and which he nonetheless says with a gruff sort of tenderness, as if bestowing a title of nobility. "Come on now, taulière, pour me another one, and make it snappy!" he announces, rapping the counter, convinced he's displaying charming familiarity. She smiles politely, the way she's smiled at all his quirks for six years running, never having bothered to find out what the word actually means.

The Immigration Appointment

At the immigration office, renewing his visa, Gaston finds himself facing a Cambodian official who's fussing over a missing document. Rather than simply going to fetch the paper in question, Gaston attempts a line he considers devastatingly effective:

"Now listen here, sonny, in this life there are those who talk and those who act, and I act, so let's sort this out like gentlemen, no need for games."

The official, who doesn't understand a word of French and has therefore caught neither the implied threat nor the suggested charm, simply repeats, in English, that a stamp is missing. Gaston leaves empty-handed, convinced he's nonetheless "established the balance of power."

The Khmer Wedding

Invited to a neighbor's son's wedding, Gaston decides to give a toast. He stands, glass raised, and launches into a speech about friendship and loyalty between men, lifted from a film he must have seen thirty times, capped off with a decisive: "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is priceless, so there!" Half the room, who don't speak French, applauds politely without having understood a word. The other half, who understand a bit, wonders why the wedding toast has suddenly turned into a gangster-movie declaration of manly honor.

The Bar Dispute

One evening, a minor squabble with another regular — a dispute over an occupied bar stool — escalates slightly. Rather than simply asking for his seat back, Gaston seizes the moment to deploy a line he considers devastating:

"Listen here, sonny, you're looking for trouble, but you're going to find a bone, and that bone's got teeth. So let's all calm down, no need to make a whole production of it."

The other patron, a young expat who's never seen any of the films in question, looks at him unable to tell if it's a joke, a threat, or the start of something uncomfortable. Gaston, pleased with the effect, sits back down without another word, convinced he's closed the matter with real panache.

The Silence That Follows

What Gaston never notices is the small beat of silence that reliably follows every one of his tirades — that moment when nobody quite knows whether to laugh, nod, or simply change the subject. He invariably reads it as admiring silence. In reality, it's just the time it takes the other person to figure out what on earth just happened.

The Tally

Years into his life here, Gaston still works his favorite lines into pretty much every possible situation — market haggling, administrative errands, weddings, birthdays, and once, according to bar regulars, a routine traffic stop. Nobody has ever told him that most of his lines fall completely flat. He'd probably keep using them even if they did — the tauliere, for her part, keeps pouring his drink, never once suspecting she carries, inside his head, a far grander title than she could possibly imagine.