This latter period François Truffaut film was one passed on to me by a very kind fellow IMDb user. Having seen Truffaut's Jules et Jim (1962) and not having been particularly blown away by it, I have to admit having feelings of caution with regards this one; particularly given certain similar themes in the plot-line. So I was very pleasantly surprised to find myself enjoying this one a great deal more. The story happens in a village in France where a young couple live a contented life. The husband's world is soon turned upside down; however, when a new couple moves in next door in which it turns out the wife was an old lover of his from a relationship that ended acrimoniously.This is a story about intense yet frustrated love and obsession. It worked very well for me, as the simple story has some fine performances underpinning the drama. Gérard Depardieu and Fanny Ardent have strong chemistry in the central roles of the adulterous characters conducting their passionate yet troubled affair. As we follow them through the motions, details slowly emerge about their history, although we are never fully given all the pieces to put together all the facets pertaining to their turbulent romantic past. Some mystery remains, which feels right and only makes the characters more compelling if anything. Like Jules et Jim it is in essence a somewhat tragic love story which doesn't really have a good ultimate message to give about the outcome of passionate love affairs. The most important character aside from the central couple is Madame Odile who runs a tennis club that acts as a social hub of the small local community. She became crippled for life after attempting suicide after being rejected by the man she loved; her story acts as a warning from the past for the young lovers, a warning that they ultimately do not or cannot heed.

Like Jules and Jim of nearly twenty years before, this movie presents us with a woman who is larger than life, who makes art out life, who is mesmerising, mystifying, irresistible, enigmatic--and a tremendous pain in the bum. Or so the verdict could rest if this femme were not literally fatale. Like a man who abandons every woman after getting her into bed, the heroine of both movies thrives on conquest and domination. But once she has won the man, then subdued him, she is bored and cannot enjoy what she has gained. Both women, equating happiness with emptiness (because it would reveal the emptiness within them?), would rather destroy than do nothing, even if it means destroying what they hold dear. The sense of power, the thrill they get from getting attention and from shocking people are what they thrive on. Revered as goddesses of love, they are really goddesses of death.I suppose this makes me sound like a drab, insensitive killjoy--and for a long time I wouldn't have expressed this opinion for fear of being thought so. But isn't it the obvious interpretation of the obvious facts? The favourable opinion of these women is based not on facts but on an immature dream (on the part of men who idolise such a woman and women who want to be like her), a dream of running wild, being utterly selfish, and never having to face any come-uppance. Above all, not having to deal with real life (ie, be boring). Can one imagine the husband in this movie, any more than the one in Jules and Jim, sitting down for a discussion with the wife about their budget, or complaining about her housekeeping?Obviously a fantasy so long maintained means a great deal to Truffaut, who was as infatuated with Ardant as he was with Moreau. But it is a shame that his film-making is so beautiful and so seductive, especially in the earlier film, that he presents so persuasively, to young filmgoers, the idea that capriciousness, exhibitionism, and what we have learned to call narcissism make women fascinating and desirable. Truffaut's fantasy is not one of being a lover but of being a fan, of worshiping a woman who is too far above him for understanding or intimacy. If your ideal woman is someone it is impossible to be close to or to affect, it rather draws attention away from the fact that you are not good at doing that with anybody. Just because the guy is French doesn't mean he knows all about love and passion and women. He seems more like someone concocting a big love-dream to justify his being a wimp.

This is perhaps the most Chabrol-ian of Truffaut films. It has the lighthearted sense of wonder that permeates even Truffaut's darkest films (such as this one)but the claustrophobic, cerebral tension of a Chabrol film.But while Chabrol always embraced the dementedness of his subject matter, Truffaut doesn't really acknowledge the truth of how awful his characters' lives are. Truffaut looks for beauty and wonder in everything, even things that don't merit it. He is fascinated by their quirkiness and doesn't really acknowledge the consequences of their actions on the people around them.In addition, this film, like many of Truffaut's, is mystified by women, while perhaps being too accepting of men. Chabrol, as male- centric as his films can be, spares neither gender in his depictions of mental illness and emotional cruelty.But in this film, the camera dwells on Fanny Ardant's nervous, quivering face, even when she's going about her daily business, as if to invite the audience to gawk at her feminine hysteria. Meanwhile, the camera goes easy on Gerard Depardieu, staying at a comfortable distance and never lingering, no matter how irrational and strange his character acts.It's most interesting for its parts - the scenery (including Gerard Depardieu's workplace, which is a canal full of model oil tankers), the cinematography, the acting, the Delerue music, et al. But it's missing something. If you enjoy the naive, bewildered, and subtly misogynistic perspective that Truffaut takes in this movie, you might love it. Truffaut came from the same worldview in "Jules and Jim" - "the world is wonderful and women are crazy" - but in that movie, he had a tongue-in-cheek style and playful, larger- than-life story to go along with it. This movie has a more realistic, down-to-earth plot and setting, and Truffaut's weaknesses show through.If you're not a Chabrol fan, you likely won't be able to put your finger on what's missing. But if you're a Chabrol fan, you've seen this story before, and you've seen it done better.

Believe it or not I want to like Truffaut, I really do, but I wish he'd give me a little help in spots. Coincidentally the opening shot - an ambulance leaving a country house clearly laden with the dead - is not unlike the opening shot of Chabrol's latest film, The Bridesmaid. In both cases we know that a given situation has ended in tears and that we are now about to be taken back to the beginning and be privy to its playing out. Despite an antithpathy to Chabrol's leading man and an admiration and respect for Both Truffaut's leads I found it hard to get anything from the Truffaut. I don't really mind his cardboard characters and cardboard situations but if only he had gone to Galeries Lafayette and not Poundstretchers for the cardboard. I've already upset one reader who seems incapable of grasping an essential of journalism is provocation which generates those letters to the editor and understands even less that opinion masquerading as fact is one of the best ways to do it via earlier comments on Truffaut and he seems destined to suffer even more anguish in a moment when I say that I was astounded when this disciple of the 'now', whose mantra was that new is better than good actually used - and not once but twice - an IRIS OUT which dates back to D.W. Griffith. Prior to that he was using Fades extensively. Shame on you, Franny, where's all that nouvelle vague thinking. The 'story' would fit on the head of a pin and still leave room for the King James version of the Bible; Bernard Coudray (Depardieu) is living happily with wife Arlette (Michele Baumgartner) in the middle of East Jesus when the empty house next door is suddenly occupied by Philippe Bauchard (Henri Garcin) and his wife Mathilde (Ardant). 'Meaninful' glances between Depardieu and Ardant complemented by music cues as subtle as a cream pie in the kisser alert us to the fact that these two have a history. Now it's only a question of how long before they get back in the sack and one of them says 'if I can't have you no one will'. Depardieu and Ardant are class acts and they almost create believable characters but with no help from either script or direction their hands are tied. Worth seeing - once if only to learn how NOT to do it.