This film looked like a winner until the two lovers put down their glasses at the watermill. What followed looked like a parody of Walt Disney. Jeanne Moreau looked like she was wearing ballet shoes as she fluttered along. And then came that boat scene. Ever laid down with a girl in a row boat? Bloody uncomfortable. Someone should ask her how she managed to deal with the back pain. But I was still holding on until the closeup moments later of Jean-Marc Bory. Strained, phony, downright hilarious. But then it got worse. After the lovemaking back in her room, they kept farting around when any other lovers in such a situation would have been somewhat keen to leave before hubby awoke. Not these two. They couldn't get past each other without endless clutches and expressions of "Darling". Just when I thought they were about to get the hell out of there, they clutched and emoted yet again. And again. And again.
That said, Moreau has never been more hauntingly beautiful. Jean-Marc Bory was great early on with his laid-back, cynical disgust of the bourgeoisie. As a lover, he was a dud. And the final few minutes were excellent.
As for Louis Malle, the only film of his that's moved me is "Zazie dans le metro". And that was a comedy.
That said, Moreau has never been more hauntingly beautiful. Jean-Marc Bory was great early on with his laid-back, cynical disgust of the bourgeoisie. As a lover, he was a dud. And the final few minutes were excellent.
As for Louis Malle, the only film of his that's moved me is "Zazie dans le metro". And that was a comedy.