I'll never forget seeing a pristine print of this magnificently shot (entirely on location in the French Riviera) Preminger classic on the huge screen of the Egyptian theater in Hollywood (I refuse to watch the cut-up video version currently available), and let me tell you, there is no more poetic or romantic film in existence. Forget the silly, soap-opera pretext of a Francoise Sagan plot, just sit back and let the 'real' story, the visual poetry drift over you and take you away. Now, I'm not saying this because I'm in love with both Jean Seberg and Deborah Kerr (how can you not be, the way they look on the screen here), but because this is the quintessential Otto Preminger film, where he takes the trashiest of romance novels and proceeds to make a case study demonstration of how irrelevant 'standard' plot devices can be in the cinema by making a visual masterpiece out of it.