(spoilers in first paragraph)
Boy meets girl, boy and girl fall in love, boy and girl have sex before he goes to war, girl gets pregnant, girl's grasping mother wants her to marry the handsome and rich diamond merchant who loves and cherishes her (and lost the girl in one of the director's other films, so by god, it's his turn), boy doesn't write because he's in a hospital and doesn't want to tell girl, girl gives up and marries diamond merchant, boy is upset for a moment when he comes back but then marries the young, beautiful, adoring, companion-nurse to his godmother, who dies and leaves him money to open a gas station, girl shows up in a Mercedes five years later, they talk briefly, and that's the movie.
Oh, yeah. It's a Michel LeGrand opera. Every word is sung. Dubbed, mind you, since none of the actors can sing. Which means that all the actors were actually filmed mouthing the words. I found this distracting to consider. Catherine Deneuve was beautiful beyond imagining, the acting was fine, I suppose, and the score was okay. The main theme is instantly recognizable, although the lyrics were changed for American consumption--if it takes forever, I will wait for you...for a thousand summers I will wait for you. (Of course, she didn't, but that's just how it works with these French chicks.)
I am a peasant, apparently. Because all I could think of throughout the film was, so the fuck what? I mean, what the hell was the point?
I can't think of a French film that I have ever really enjoyed. La Grande Illusion was the closest, but even there it was definitely a case of eating my vegetables because it's good for me.
I am not looking forward to Truffaut. Still, unadorned broccoli is bearable if you steam it lightly and wolf it down quickly while it's still hot.
