Bruno Salomone

With heavy hearts, we say goodbye to our Bruno. To the world, he was the brilliantly funny Denis Bouley from *Fais pas ci, fais pas ça*, the charming voice in countless dubbed films, and a familiar, beloved face on French screens. But to us, he was so much more: a husband, a father, a brother, and a friend whose laughter could fill a room and whose quiet kindness could mend a soul. I’ll never forget his warmth—that specific, crinkly-eyed smile that started in his eyes and spread to his whole face. He had this incredible gift for finding the absurd in the everyday, a trait that made our family dinners legendary. He’d mimic our accents, invent wild stories about the neighbour’s cat, and turn a simple Sunday into a comedy sketch. Off-set, he was a devoted family man. His love for his wife and children was the steady, quiet foundation of his life. He was the first to make breakfast on a Saturday, the last to leave a child’s bedside, and the one who taught us all that love is shown in actions, not just words. His passions were his other loves: the rhythmic scratch of a vinyl record, the delicate art of a perfectly reduced sauce in the kitchen, and the pure joy of a long walk with the dog, where he’d just… observe. He found such contentment in these simple things. Bruno’s legacy isn’t just in the films he made or the characters he played, though they brought so many of us joy. It’s in the way he made every person he met feel seen and valued. He had a rare ability to connect, to listen with his whole being, and to offer a word of encouragement that would stay with you for years. He fought his long illness with a quiet, stubborn grace, never wanting to be a burden, always more concerned about us than himself. The world is a quieter, less funny place without him. We will miss his presence, his humor, and his heart every single day. But we will also carry it with us. Rest easy, our dear friend. Thank you for every laugh, every lesson, and