Only a pedant and a bore would complain that the last word of that title should be “cancer”. The phrase’s childlike naivety and irrelevance, apparently taken from an obsolete era when smoking was considered bad in the sense that eating cream cakes was bad, is a hint of what you’re in for: a fantastically silly and magnificently inconsequential comedy from French film-maker and former DJ Quentin Dupieux. For the life of me, I can’t think of another director right now who wants to do just straight comedy for theatrical release, without having to buy the right to do so by also being unfunnily dark and disturbing. Dupieux has put together something chaotic, disparate, entirely negligible yet oddly gripping and also funny. For all that this is very French, many points of comparison seemed to me Anglo-Saxon. “Smoking causes coughing” is like one of Tristram Shandy’s opinions. Dupieux is renowned, or notorious, for his throwaway zaniness and adventures in surreal whimsy and has collected a fanbase along the way for movies such as Deerskin and Incredible but True.