Une femme à sa fenêtre

It's passed into legend: how the young Turks of French cinema--Truffaut, Chabrol, Godard and the others--wanted to sweep away the dusty relics of the previous generation, the so-called well made films. What's less known is how those young Turks went on to make some of the stuffiest movies of the late 60's and 70's: I'm thinking of Resnais's Stavisky, Chabrol's Juste avant la nuit and La decade prodigieuse, Truffaut's Dernier Metro. The art decoration and costumes are impeccable; the stories often leave you falling asleep. Pierre Granier-Deferre is the same age as the men I've mentioned, but never gave in to the urge to experiment. As a result he never fell into total boredom, just as he never excites us.

Drieu la Rochelle killed himself in 1945 before he could be charged with collaborating with the Germans, so he's always been a little daring for film directors. Louis Malle, who would take on any project, made a great film out of Le feu follet. Granier-Deferre is careful not to upset the sensibilities of those who remember the war, and the horrors of collaboration. I'm sure he makes Boutros out to be a more sympathetic character than he is in the novel. Victor Lanoux plays him with a lot of charm, making him a great foil for Romy Schneider who is at the peak of her glory here. Philippe Noiret gives excellent support as the rich man who wants to support Romy. It's a shame the direction is so stodgy; the camera hardly moves in those overdecorated rooms.