1959 French dramaRating: 18/20
Plot: A disillusioned adolescent raises hell. Trouble at both home and school forces him to react--he spins, ogles, steals a typewriter, reads Balzac, fibs, catches part of his bedroom on fire, engages in subtle homoerotic romance, ticks off his teacher, conjugates, slinks, runs away, drums his fingers, and goes to the beach.
As I've said, I love good endings. This one has a classic, an image of a look into the camera that says more than millions of words in thousands of movies. Truffaut succeeds because he constructs a plot where nothing is wasted and every scene builds to that final shot. At the same time, few of the scenes really scream at you and seem to matter. There's nothing fancy here because there doesn't need to be. Subtle comedy intermingles with the despair of adolescence. Great lead actor. A human is created, and the kid makes it easy to want to follow him around. Well-constructed autobiographical film-making, tragic and life-affirming and beautiful.
Bonus points awarded for puppets.
Me, who during my own childhood never got above 280 blows:
No comments:
Post a Comment