Chevalier (2015) and the Rules of the European Game On its surface, Athina Rachel Tsangari's Chevalier (2015) offers a commentary on contemporary masculinity, for the game called 'Chevalier' that the men in the film play is designed to show who is the 'best' man of them all. Writing in Sight and Sound, for example, Adam Nayman called the film a 'witty, affectionate satire of contemporary masculinity' (Nayman 2016, 32), while Violet Lucca in Film Comment claimed that the film was 'about male characters who obsess over the minutiae of their behavior and bodies' (Lucca 2016, 67). That Chevalier offers a humorous portrayal of contemporary masculinity is clear, but I want to argue that, even in its attempts to avoid it, the film cannot help raising the spectre of the recent Greek financial crisis. Tsangari has very strongly resisted such readings. 'The Greek crisis', she has claimed, 'is becoming a sort of fetishistic, exportable commodity for artists …. It's as if we as filmmakers are expected to be actively exporting a product, and that product is the national tragedy of Greece' (in Nayman 2016, 34). Nevertheless, against Tsangari's wishes, the crisis is, in fact, of utmost importance to the film. That is certainly what I argue here, adopting something akin to Fredric Jameson's notion of 'national allegory' by affirming that the personal conflicts played out in Chevalier can be read as allegories of the contemporary Greek political and financial crisis (see Jameson 1986). 1 My focus will not be entirely on Greece. Rather, I see the film as exploring the relationship between Greece and Europe, especially in the light of the strict economic austerity measures handed to