The key to the movie: glamour. Pierre (played by Michel Piccoli, impeccably dressed, impeccably coiffed and driving a stylish Alfa Romeo) is a high flying architect fighting for livable, green urban spaces against crass, greedy, garage-bent businessmen. He is separated from, but in good terms with his wife, the glamorous Catherine (Léa Massari) and living with his current love interest, the even more glamorous Hélène (played by Romy Schneider). He met Hélène in the most glamorous of settings, an auction of high end antique furniture in La Rochelle, on the Atlantic coast of France. He owns a summer place and a sailing boat in the prestigious Île de Ré in front of the city, and we are regaled with some touristy shots like that of the iconic entrance to La Rochelle's Old Harbor.
After a few lovers spats with Hélène, Pierre has a road accident, emerges gravely but decorously wounded (just a few scratches in the face plus sartorial problems) and dies the perfect Hollywood death on the operating table, with his whole glamorous life parading in front of him. His accident is painstakingly explained and shown again and again from different angles and at different speeds for no obvious reason, and there is a highly contrived shot of a wheel, torn from the car and rolling by itself without any bent metal or other sign of trauma.
On the positive side, cinematography suits the glamour, and music is fine but rather sappy at times as one expects from the tale. The actors use their charisma and do what they can with their frequently trite lines. There is a rather suggestive joke involving Pierre (always smoking) placing his cigarette butt in an ashtray that also contains butts from Catherine new love interest. All in all, not much to show in spite of the Prix Delluc.
After a few lovers spats with Hélène, Pierre has a road accident, emerges gravely but decorously wounded (just a few scratches in the face plus sartorial problems) and dies the perfect Hollywood death on the operating table, with his whole glamorous life parading in front of him. His accident is painstakingly explained and shown again and again from different angles and at different speeds for no obvious reason, and there is a highly contrived shot of a wheel, torn from the car and rolling by itself without any bent metal or other sign of trauma.
On the positive side, cinematography suits the glamour, and music is fine but rather sappy at times as one expects from the tale. The actors use their charisma and do what they can with their frequently trite lines. There is a rather suggestive joke involving Pierre (always smoking) placing his cigarette butt in an ashtray that also contains butts from Catherine new love interest. All in all, not much to show in spite of the Prix Delluc.