ANTOINE ET COLLETTE (1962) **1/2 (En Andy Rooney voccé) Did you ever wonder about what happened to all those young lovers? The ones whose names you see carved in park benches and trees, written on walls in the strangest places. Did you ever wonder if some of them even existed? And even if they did exist, did you ever wonder if it wasn't just one of them wishing that the other one liked them? (A.R. voccé off) Not that anyone depicted in this film is countercultural or degenerate enough to write their name where it doesn't belong-they aren't. In fact the classical and Delerue musical themes fit quite nicely with the well considered shots of downtown Paris-a interesting but grimy place. François Truffaut brings us a tale of young love (lust, infatuation) that rings just true enough to be of interest despite itself. It may not match some of those infernos of affection that are immortalized on the wall of the laundrymat, but it has its own story to tell, and probably nothing involving so much passion is unworthy of our attention. For awhile anyway, and Truffaut doesn't force us to linger where the well is too dry for even camels.
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