The French sommelier, normally the most solemn of men, could resist no longer and approached Albert Uderzo to ask if he would like a little magic potion from the wine list. Asterix’s “father” smiled indulgently, as if hearing the quip for the first time, and opted for a splendid bottle of Pouilly-Fumé instead.
Uderzo, who along with René Goscinny invented the cartoon characters of Asterix, Obelix and the world-famous village of potion-drinking, boar-eating, Roman-bashing Gauls, is regarded as a national treasure in France. On meeting him, it is easy to understand why.
In spite of his 78 years of age, Uderzo sparkles with a gentle humour and a boyish charm, retaining an inquisitive interest in the foibles of the French and the wider wonders of the world.
In the chintzy pink dining room of the Hotel Raphael, close to the Arc de Triomphe, he is treated with fond reverence by the restaurant’s punctilious staff. Dressed in a smart blue blazer, with a broad, handsome face and swept-back silver hair, Uderzo blends smoothly into the elegant surroundings.
The subject of the month has been the real-life violence that has raged across France’s poorer banlieues, with 10,000 cars having been torched by disaffected youths. Uderzo has strong views on the issue, having grown up in an Italian immigrant family in Clichy-sous-Bois, where the “appalling” riots first erupted.
“I know this banlieue very well. In my day we had fun in the streets but we never thought about setting fire to cars,” he says indignantly. “Sometimes I have the impression of living on another planet. The world has completely changed and I do not think it is for the better. It is for the worse.”
The illustrator seems pained by talk of social breakdown and the shirking of parental responsibility and visibly relaxes when the conversation turns to the contents of the menu – a matter of serious attention – and the origins and character of Asterix himself.
“You must go back 46 years,” he says with the cadences of a natural storyteller. “Asterix was born in 1959. We met a publisher who wanted a cartoon book for children drawing on French culture and history. Asterix represents the first lesson of history that children learn at school.”
Goscinny, who wrote the words, and Uderzo, who drew the illustrations, let their imaginations roam freely in creating Asterix since little was known about the era in which the Gauls lived apart from the facts that they fought fiercely among themselves and were heavily influenced by Druidic rites. “Little by little Asterix evolved into the person we know today. But,” he adds with a chuckle “if we had known how long Asterix would have gone on then we would have paid more attention to the details in the first album.”
That first album about the little Gallic warrior was published in 1961. Its opening sentences, repeated in every subsequent album, have become one of the most famous refrains in children’s literature: “The year is 50BC. Gaul is entirely occupied by the Romans. Well, not entirely . . . One small village of indomitable Gauls still holds out against the invaders.”
The stirring tales of how a band of cunning Gauls outwits and outfights Julius Caesar and his legions have become an international publishing phenomenon. The albums, now beloved by three successive generations, have been translated into 110 languages and dialects – including Afrikaans, Welsh, Hebrew and Occitan – and have sold more than 320m copies.
Although Goscinny died of a heart attack in 1977, Uderzo has continued to release new albums single-handed – although he admits they lack the “genius of humour” that spilled from the pen of his late collaborator.
In truth, the latest album, Asterix and the Falling Sky, the 33rd in the series, is not the greatest of Asterix’s adventures, veering off into new territory by including alien characters inspired by Walt Disney cartoons and Japanese manga comics. It has, nevertheless, still proved a bestseller in the run-up to Christmas.
Contrary to press speculation, Uderzo denies this album was intended to conclude the series. “No, no, no, it is not the last. Certain journalists believed this because the cover was the mirror image of the first Asterix album. That is indeed the case but it was not at all my intention to suggest it would be the last album. I can say that for one simple reason: my life is the work that I do. The day will never come when I will say that I have nothing more to do with this character. I certainly hope that I will have more ideas.”
Confessing that he does not frequent fancy restaurants (the Raphael hotel has been chosen by his publisher for its convenience), Uderzo opts for a simple meal of smoked salmon followed by filet of sole.
I am only slightly more adventurous in choosing salmon and the filet of bar. But there is sophistication in simplicity: the food is presented to perfection and is sweetly complemented by the Pouilly-Fumé.
To many readers, Asterix has come to personify the French, with their infuriating, and occasionally endearing, contradictions, their determination to defy the US (the modern-day Rome), and their defiance of a homogenised, globalised future.
As one political commentator recently observed: “Asterix is the citizen who is enamoured with liberty but thirsty for equality, the taxpayer who is pro-public service but anti-tax, the voter who would like to change everything but stamps his feet at the mention of reform. Asterix is neither from the right nor from the left but he is quite simply French.”
Uderzo says his Gauls were indeed created to reflect contemporary French characteristics but he suggests they also appear to enshrine eternal and universal values.
“In every country it is the same thing: the more we are under the sway of globalisation, the more people feel the need to rediscover their roots,” he says.
It seems paradoxical that while Asterix, the character, is viewed as the champion of anti-globalisation, Asterix, the international publishing phenomenon, is the undoubted beneficiary of a globalising world.
“The Gauls are the French of today,” Uderzo says. “But that raises the question: why do they work so well abroad? Perhaps it is because thanks to globalisation we all resemble each other. We have the same tastes, the same desires, the same problems. I think that is important.
“Perhaps another reason is that Asterix has become a release valve for everyone. I think that is why he attracts young people, even unconsciously, because they do not like being under submission to anyone. They want a magic potion, not so that they can invade another country but so that they can defend themselves in their own home and quickly resolve all their problems.”
One of the most amusing features of the Asterix albums is the depiction of foreigners, be they Romans, Belgians, Britons, Germans, or Spaniards, who are – mostly playfully – lampooned according to their national stereotypes, as seen through French eyes.
“Of course, we made the Germans very strict, very militaristic, with helmets that resembled a little those from the second world war. The English were also made very British, especially when we translated their phrases into French. It was an idea of Goscinny, who spoke good English and who took these English phrases and translated them into the most astounding French.”
The nationalities that are so caricatured do not seem to have taken offence. Indeed, in the words of Obelix, these foreigners are mad: the sales of Asterix often appear strongest in the countries that are the most ridiculed. The Germans, for example, have bought almost 100m Asterix albums in total. Belgians and Britons are also big fans, although, curiously, Finland holds the record for the highest number of albums bought per head.
Asterix is also conquering new markets in India and South America. His publishers are even negotiating a Chinese edition.
The one market that Asterix has never truly conquered is the US, even though it was American animators, such as Walt Disney, who first inspired Uderzo to become an illustrator. He suggests that this may have something to do with the different formats of cartoons in the US, or a sense of cultural protectionism, or a different way of seeing the world.
“It is not only the Atlantic that separates us,” he says. “The Gauls do not have any relevance to their culture. Someone who wears a helmet like Asterix’s is thought of as a Viking. I think that perhaps it must have something to do with their total ignorance about our history. It is a pity, but tant pis.”
Neither of us wants dessert, so it is time for coffee. I seize the moment to pull out a copy of his latest album and ask him if he would autograph it for Jamie, my four-year-old son, who has become the latest recruit to Asterix’s fan club. It is cheesy, I know, but one does these things for one’s kids. Uderzo consents immediately and inscribes the book holding his pen between his middle two fingers in a remarkable grip. He then takes an album that his publishers have brought along and kindly autographs a copy for me too.
“There, I’ve written your name into it so I’ll know if you sell it on eBay,” he smiles.
Perish the thought. I’d rather be biffed by Obelix than sell my latest treasure.
