François Truffault

(On Cable TV, January 2021) Wrapping up the Antoine Doinel series with a fifth and final instalment, L’amour en fuite once again follows the biography of François Truffaut’s celebrated alter ego, now in his mid-to-late thirties and picking up the pieces of his life after the divorce foreshadowed by the previous film and a successful autobiographical novel. But he’s still the same flighty lover hopping from one conquest to another, and things quickly come to a boil when, after a first half focused on him, the film allows two of his past flames to meet and compare notes. L’amour en fuite makes copious use of its kinship with the four previous films of the series by showing clips from those films to illustrate what characters are talking about, something that doesn’t feel like as much of a crutch than you’d think. Truffault’s somewhat humorous touch is still present, although the weight of the film is in characterization rather than flashy stylistic techniques or overly comic moments. As such, L’amour en fuite often feels like a staider film than its immediate predecessors—it’s inwardly reflective to the point of approaching hermetic self-containment, and its finality is more a matter of chronological evidence and Truffaut’s death rather than stemming from any kind of grand wrap-up. I still liked it, but I suspect that it’s more out of devotion to Truffaut and his idiosyncratic style than in the film itself, or when it’s compared to its predecessors.

(On TV, January 2021) An accident of DVR scheduling led me to watch Baisers volés after its immediate sequel Domicile conjugal, and that didn’t work in the film’s favour. Rather than a sequel to Les 400 coups that had viewers wondering if the protagonist will get together with the cute red-haired girl, it ends up being a “here’s how they got together” prequel that prefigures more sadness to come knowing how Domicile conjugal ends. On the other hand—or perhaps the same hand—the successful blend of drama/comic elements from the following film isn’t quite as nicely executed here: Baisers volés feels longer, duller, more laborious than its successor and probably would have felt fresher if I had seen first. Still, it’s not an unpleasant film. The protagonist of the series (played by Jean-Pierre Léaud) is still a likable screw-up, here unable to hold on to a job longer than a few weeks following his dishonourable discharge from the army. Writer/director François Truffaut plays with form a bit—notably in expanding a small window into a full frame, or in having the character repeat names in front of a mirror for what seems to be an endless amount of time. If you see Baisers volés, make sure it’s in the series intended order.