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Roger Vadim strolls into the empty studio to state his intentions, the opening credits materialize on a chessboard and dissolve to a high-angled view of a cocktail party. The diplomat (Gérard Philipe) and his wife (Jeanne Moreau), jaded swells amusing themselves with little carnal machinations, elaborate cruelties of seduction. "I picked you up, I had you, goodbye" is the standard procedure, the latest target is the virginal cousin (Jeanne Valérie) engaged to a callow mathematician (Jean-Louis Trintignant). The meeting at the alpine resort goes right into Edwards' The Pink Panther, the worthy adversary is a Nordic beauty (Annette Stroyberg) whose virtue touches the seasoned reprobate. The rules of the game falter in the face of unexpected emotion: "Is it still pleasure, or already suffering?" De Laclos' "mauvaise moeurs" updated to the eve of La Dolce Vita, elegantly cluttered barricades for the war of the sexes. Philipe's triste charisma is offset by Moreau's vicious splendor, Stroyberg meanwhile gets the Sternberg attention—haloed by a snowy flurry as she glides into a soirée, blanched by light for a monumental kiss, caressed by Vaseline lenses for her eventual breakdown. The camera crawls under the sheets to frame the Lothario's smile next to Valérie's bare thigh, the conquest is obscured by the back of a chair and remembered by Losey in The Servant. "Men are seldom worthy of the feelings they stir in women." Thelonious Monk score, "masques," a mise en scène of vampiric chic. Cukor's A Woman's Face for the comeuppance, lingered on at the close outside a courtroom. "Ainsi va le monde..." Chabrol in Les Godelureaux cashes the check Vadim writes here. With Simone Renant, Nicolas Vogel, and Boris Vian. In black and white.
--- Fernando F. Croce |