Interesting, thought-provoking story of civilian life in wartime.Paris, 1942. With the Germans in control and her Jewish theatre producer-director husband on the run from them, an actress, Marion Steiner (played by Catherine Deneuve) is left with the task of running his theatre. She starts rehearsals for a new play, written by her husband, and hires a new director and a leading man, Bernard Granger (Gerard Depardieu). It's make or break, as a flop will see the theatre go bankrupt. This, with the Germans clamping down on everything and the city's biggest drama critic an anti-semite and Nazi pawn, means it's going to be tough. Meanwhile, (known to her) her husband is hiding in the cellar, and he can't help but offer suggestions on the finer details of the play...On the face of it, this sounds like the makings of a decent comedy, a farce parodying Nazism and the theatre. While it has its comical moments, The Last Metro is most definitely a drama, and a good one. Quite claustrophobic in the way the French people are forced to live their lives, but that would be accurate for a civilian population in wartime, especially in an occupied country.Has some interesting themes too, not least being the inanity of bigotry. There is a strong sense of perseverance, survival and "the show must go on". Catherine Deneuve sparkles in the lead role. Good work too from Gerard Depardieu as Bernard Granger. Solid supporting cast.On the negative side, is quite slow moving at times and there are some detours which didn't add anything to the plot. The conclusion feels quite rushed and there isn't a great profundity about it - it's more a wrap-up than anything else. The movie is more about the journey than the destination.

The "what's happening on stage is mirrored by what is happening in real life" trope is beloved by most of the great filmmakers. The screen inside of the screen; the frame framing; a window that looks out - or in. But honestly, not many of them have made their best films when they focus on become Cinematic Pirandellos. "The text is a tissue of quotations" said my boy Roland Barthes and, without trying to insist that viewers drink the Structuralist or Semiotician Kool - Aid, it would be great if people would stop focusing so much on the stories of these films and spend some more time thinking about how they engage with Films, Film, the nature of seeing, the nature of the porous, ambiguous relationship between "illusion" and "reality". I could see the great Student of Cinema in every frame - many films were evoked, but somehow I kept coming back to the 1956 remake of The Man Who Knew Too Much (Hitchcock) and The Golden Coach (Jean Renoir). But Truffaut's exhaustion is what resonates the most; everything feels trotted out, like a revival of situations and themes that were once vital and alive, and now have become habits and tics. Luckily for François, he met Fanny Ardant right around this time and was rejuvenated into making that really misunderstood and underrated Masterpiece, The Woman Next Door. All of the techniques of Classical American Cinema (Hitchcock, of course, but not only him) are used in that film with a freshness and a sense of rediscovery that is totally lacking here. When that scene featuring a wounded Depardieu comes in at the end, you can see the fact that it's - wait for it - actually a play! - coming a mile away; not that this in itself is bad, but even this use of the "Brechtian" awareness-of-the-"madeness"-of-the thing riff which was a major feature of the audacious early Nouvelle Vague has become a lightly amusing - not even, really! - riff that Truffaut must trot out in order to maintain some Middle Aged semblance of New Wave cred. "Maturity" is a double - edged sword. Renoir, considered in the 30's as the most "natural" of filmmakers, embraces "theatricality" more and more in his later works, and while this works brilliantly in The Golden Coach, many of his later films feel stiff and lifeless to me. I remember feeling like Picnic on the Grass was the geriatric version of Day In The Country. Mais on doit revenir a nos moutons...I'm not going to be as harsh as Godard, who, because of these later films referred to his former comrade as a "fake" and a "liar". First of all, there was life in the old dog yet (If Godard didn't like The Woman Next Door, he was a hypocrite; it's a good as the films of Sirk or Ophuls that he praised when he was a critic, and for the same reasons), and second, this film has its little pleasures, although there are still so many things I could tear apart about it. I just have to mention that scene of the first night of "Disappearance", the main play-within-a-play of this movie. At the curtain call, the camera searches around the theater, and gives a real WPA - style "look, people from all walks of life are transformed by The Theater" kind of shot. Rich! Poor! Gay! Straight! Nazis! Jews!...Something's wrong with that picture...no Cartier - Bresson, this wasn't the appropriate moment for a "Family of Man" shot, I don't think! The form of the shot and what it says clash in a jarring way. Maybe Truffaut was too exhausted to hate Nazis...Maybe he should have pulled out Sirk's A Time to Love and A Time to Die to get a little more nuance into the thing. I mean, I know he's a "humanist" and everything, but...Yummy acting. Yummy actors. Yummy set design. Yummy cinematography. So what. The Occupation and The Resistance feel like a fancy dress - up party. No tension, no energy, no drive, no feeling of necessity. Cinéma de Qualité, in your face, yo!

Somewhat contrived and conventional yet always entertaining and noteworthy, Francois Truffaut's The Last Metro is one of those great period pieces that transports you to a particular era so beautifully that after awhile you lose the thought of watching a film and feel as if you are inhabiting this world with the characters. This is thanks in no small part to Truffaut, who directs with beautiful restraint, but also to his two lead actors who happen to be two of the most accomplished in French history. Gerard Depardieu and Catherine Deneuve have tremendous chemistry together but also create two sympathetic and interesting characters who together and separately have specific reasons for acting the way they do, which is not always apparent to the audience. Like any great director, Truffaut unfolds this story slowly and paces it well enough that we understand the gist of what he is trying to say without bludgeoning us over the head with his message. Clearly, the message has to do with the importance of art and how it is able to transform and prolong our happiness and understanding in times of great trouble. Using such a well-known period like World War II can be troublesome, but Truffaut underplays the Nazi element of the story, utilizing it more as a backdrop than a necessary part of the film. In short, this is a very entertaining and worthwhile film that celebrates art, particularly the positive effects it is capable of, which I'm sure we all would love to see more of.

François Truffaut's homage to the theater was an Oscar and Golden Globe nominee and won a basketful of César Awards. It takes place in Nazi occupied Paris in 1942 and shows how the French coped with that tragedy. The anti-Jewish propaganda is continual throughout.Catherine Deneuve is magnificent as the wife of a theater owner (Heinz Bennent), who now runs it while keeping her Jewish husband hidden in the basement.Gérard Depardieu is her new leading man. He is stunningly suave and comedic as a womanizer, who also happens to be part of the Resistance. His repartee with Arnette (Andréa Ferréol) is hilarious.Bennent was excellent as the husband and director in the basement. Seeing him just before the play opened was just as I imagine it is for all directors.The music and cinematography were excellent also, and Truffaut's direction was flawless.A superb ending!