I don't know just how ill Truffaut was when he shot this, his last film, but I'd guess extremely. It's understandable that he'd want to throw a film to Fanny Ardant given that they were an item and had a child together and whilst I certainly have no quarrel with Ardant getting the lion's share of any movie I wish she could have found something better than this melange. It's almost as if Truffaut had a perverse desire to return to the clumsiness of his early black and white efforts which made little pretense to professionalism. Here we're asked to stomach the fact that a man (Jean-Louis Trintignant) wanted for murder would be able to hide out in his own Real Estate office almost indefinitely whilst his secretary (Ardant) is out solving the crime whilst the police fail even to stake out his office. It's the kind of no-brainer where in the last reel having seen no prior evidence of it Ardant can say to Trintignant with a straight face that she's been madly in love with him all along. See it for Ardant.
Review of Confidentially Yours
