It's easy to understand why the late Louis Malle was such a respected filmmaker after seeing this comedy of manners, inspired (again) by the director's own childhood memories. The film begins when a grandmother's death in the spring of 1968 reunites three generations of family at a country estate in southern France. But their mingled grief and affection is soon overshadowed by news of the student riots in faraway Paris, and their already fragile bourgeois equilibrium is unbalanced by the distant echoes of uninhibited anarchy. The parallels between the family crisis and the world at large are obvious, but rarely has a corpse lying in state been surrounded by so much activity: private longings, public declarations, old resentments and new romances are all given sudden priority over preparations for the old woman's burial. Consistently graceful, often surprising, the film is an affectionate valentine from Malle to the extended family of his youth, and a gift to discriminating movie audiences during a long, dry summer.
