Unexpectedly in France for a fortnight, I was starting to wonder if there was anything good on TV other than dubbed versions of “CSI Miami” (known as “Les Experts, Miami,” the most popular program in the country), “Desperate Housewives,” “House,” “Studio 60,” etc.

The American version of “The Office,” for instance, had its debut Sunday, and it’s amazing to me that the French couldn’t come up with their own version of this British show, just as we managed to do. After all, filming a small group of ordinary looking actors in a generic office setting hardly calls for a massive budget. Surely the French could have applied their own twist to the horrors of working for a paper supply company under the guidance of a deluded, egotistical boss? Mais, non. The American version will apparently have to do, though, to my mind, the French have a genius for comedy as witnessed in films like “The Dinner Game” and “Les Visiteurs.” Is it a lack of ambition? A shortage of resources? A stultifying bureaucracy? It’s hard to tell.

If there’s one thing the French are good at, however, it’s talking. This was confirmed a dozen times over when I chanced upon a chat show called “Esprits Libres” while flicking through channels as a dubbed version of “Nip/Tuck” went into a commercial break. I missed the first 10 or 15 minutes, but fortunately there was more than an hour to go, and once I started watching I forgot all about trying to tabulate the assorted oddities of listening to American plastic surgeons speak French, though you get used to it surprisingly quickly.

“Esprits Libres” was like “Charlie Rose” in the form of an intellectual cabaret act, and it made me realize that “Charlie Rose” could do with a touch of cabaret, maybe even a major dose of it. Watching it taught me that there’s something missing on American TV, namely talk shows that combine intelligence with playfulness. The closest thing we have to “Esprits Libres” is probably “Real Time With Bill Maher.” But Mr. Maher, like Jon Stewart, is a comedian first and foremost, while the host of “Esprits Libres,” Guillaume Durand, is an experienced journalist from a prominent French arts family. Politics and art both get a far more thorough workout on his show than they ever do on “Real Time.”

Dressed casually in a dark blue jacket and dark blue open-necked shirt, Mr. Durand looked like a younger (he’s 55), more raffish version of Mr. Rose, and spoke three times as fast. He sat at an enormous round, white table, on which the show’s title had been inscribed in expressionistic black paint, and there were daubs of more black paint elsewhere on the table, as if a devotee of Jean-Michel Basquiat had been let loose on it.

Gathered around the table were various heavyweights — a “nouvel philosophe,” a former adviser to François Mitterand, a prominent magazine editor, etc. There were about nine in all, not including Bernard Henri-Levy, who was beamed in to join the discussion via satellite from New York, where, clutching a black phone, he spoke passionately about the genocide in Darfur. Eric Besson, the author of a critical biography of the losing French presidential candidate, Sègoléne Royale, was grilled at hostile length by Mr. Durand about his support for the winning candidate, Nicolas Sarkozy, which didn’t seem to be shared by many others at the table (or by Mr. Levy, who declared himself “proud” to have voted for Ms. Royale). But Mr. Besson acquitted himself well, convincingly arguing that, if you put party politics aside, Mr. Sarkozy was simply better qualified to fill the position than his rival.

What made the program such good television, however, was its theatricality. First of all, there was an audience — small, but seated on the stage itself, constituting a strong visual presence. The audience members were mostly young, mostly good looking, and they listened intently. There were also enormous video screens on the wall behind Mr. Durand, encased in frames that would look right at home in the Louvre, on which one could see whoever was talking. Sometimes the face of Picasso or Baudelaire or some other French culture hero would appear on one of the screens. It was pointless elaboration, but fun. The French may not be very creative in terms of producing television dramas, but when it comes to making conversation visually and intellectually exciting, they’re way ahead of us.

The conversation moved from politics (Mr. Sarkozy, Darfur) to literature (Orhan Pamuk, Dennis Cooper) to cinema (the Cannes film festival) and back again, often with bewildering speed. One minute you were listening to Mr. Levy discuss the role of the Chinese at the U.N., the next you were treated to an analysis of old film clips by Ozu, Dreyer, Bresson, and Pasolini.

And then, to my complete astonishment, Marilyn Manson was in the studio, interviewed by Mr. Durand, as if he’d been dropped there from outer space. “What is he doing on the program?” I thought to myself, gazing at the sepulchral rocker with the ghoulish eye shadow and chipped nail polish. Promoting a new album, “Eat Me, Drink Me,” was the predictable answer, but it just went to show that on “Esprits Libres” there is no division between art and politics. They are all jumbled together. I don’t know if that’s a good thing in the long run, but it was different.

***

As it turns out, sporting parochialism isn’t solely the province of Americans, though it sometimes seems that way when you’re watching an international sporting event on, say, NBC or ESPN.

In France, the two stations showing the early rounds of the French Open — France 2 and Eurosport — unspooled an endless procession of every French tennis player you’ve ever heard of (Richard Gasquet, Gaël Monfils, Amelie Mauresmo), along with dozens you haven’t. A week into the tournament, I’d yet to see Roger Federer strike a ball.

At one point, both channels sadistically stuck viewers with an uninspiring match between Paul Mathieu and Gilles Simon while far more intriguing duels went unattended. But finally the French were down to one player, a woman, and they put Mr. Federer on TV — on Sunday, at lunchtime. “It’s truly a pleasure to watch him,” a commentator enthused.

bbernhard@nysun.com