Highly esteemed, master filmmaker that Francois Truffaut was, not all his pictures were equal. 'The 400 blows' is an undeniable classic, for example; I enjoyed 'Stolen kisses' but personally didn't think much of it; heretofore 'Shoot the piano player' has been my favorite of anything I've watched from him. I'm so very pleased to say, however, that for the moment a new champion is crowned, for 'Bed and board,' also known as 'Domicile conjugal,' is one of the most perfect movies that I've recently watched. Given the far-ranging hegemony of American cinema I understand how this isn't more widely known and highly acclaimed, but I think that's a damn shame, because I love this and can only give it my highest, heartiest recommendation.
Between the long-running saga of Antoine Doinel that Truffaut kicked off eleven years before, and collaboration here with co-writers Claude de Givray and Bernard Revon - and even as another entry in that saga was yet to come - this really feels like the culmination of all the skill and intelligence that the man had been developing and cultivating in his career. What we have here is a portrait of domestic bliss between Antoine and Christine, troubled by domestic strife borne of Antoine's impulses and self-centered defensiveness. From start to finish, however, it is filled with delightful, sprightly humor and general mirth, to the point that even the more dramatic beats carry a certain insurmountable playful wit and lightheartedness; we hope all ends well, but even if it doesn't, the journey is unremittingly pleasant. The feature boasts charm and warmth in its entertainment that far exceed what many, many others can claim, and to be honest, those feelings come across in every last element of the film.
Thanks to cinematographer Nestor Almendros and composer Antoine Duhamel, every sight and sound to greet our eyes and ears is a real treat, making the viewing experience even more unfailingly enjoyable than it already was. Every theme and shot are as exquisite as they are light on their feet, and the same sense of gaiety quite applies to the production design, costume design, and hair and makeup. Truffaut's direction has perhaps never felt as smooth, natural, and altogether flawless as it does here; every shot and scene is marked with fluidity, expertise, and sublime insight such that it feels like nothing here could be except for exactly as we see it. And what can I say of the cast except that they are an utter joy? It's equally true of everyone in front of the camera, even though the likes of Hiroko Berghauer, Daniel Ceccaldi, and Claire Duhamel are much less prominent. Above all, however, Jean-Pierre Léaud and Claude Jade are truly exceptional as Antoine and Christine, breathing life into their roles with nuance, personality, and emotion that are as real as they could be. 'Bed and board' could be even more tightly focused on the couple, removing other narrative aspects, and Léaud and Jade alone would make such an edit just as worthy.
And none of this would be possible if not for such tremendous writing. From the get-go it would seem to superficially portend mild, airy nothings, but there's wonderfully absorbing substance under that pastel veneer that is at once both sweetly rich and flavorful and as bewitching and meaningful as any more hard-hitting drama. It's a rather delicate balance that Truffaut attempts here, and in the hands of anyone less capable it may not have turned out well. From top to bottom, however, this is a demonstration of the utmost shrewd calculation and practiced of hands, resulting in a tableau that's as enchanting as rewarding as they come. I will admit that I had some doubts when I sat to watch, as not every well regarded classic meets with equal success for all, and again, even Truffaut's works haven't been all of one kind for me. I couldn't be happier with just how very good this is, though, and more so than with anything else the director gave us, this is surely a must-see. 'Bed and board' is without question a great movie fully deserving of the filmmaker's considerable reputation, and is very much worth seeking out. That's all there is to it.
Between the long-running saga of Antoine Doinel that Truffaut kicked off eleven years before, and collaboration here with co-writers Claude de Givray and Bernard Revon - and even as another entry in that saga was yet to come - this really feels like the culmination of all the skill and intelligence that the man had been developing and cultivating in his career. What we have here is a portrait of domestic bliss between Antoine and Christine, troubled by domestic strife borne of Antoine's impulses and self-centered defensiveness. From start to finish, however, it is filled with delightful, sprightly humor and general mirth, to the point that even the more dramatic beats carry a certain insurmountable playful wit and lightheartedness; we hope all ends well, but even if it doesn't, the journey is unremittingly pleasant. The feature boasts charm and warmth in its entertainment that far exceed what many, many others can claim, and to be honest, those feelings come across in every last element of the film.
Thanks to cinematographer Nestor Almendros and composer Antoine Duhamel, every sight and sound to greet our eyes and ears is a real treat, making the viewing experience even more unfailingly enjoyable than it already was. Every theme and shot are as exquisite as they are light on their feet, and the same sense of gaiety quite applies to the production design, costume design, and hair and makeup. Truffaut's direction has perhaps never felt as smooth, natural, and altogether flawless as it does here; every shot and scene is marked with fluidity, expertise, and sublime insight such that it feels like nothing here could be except for exactly as we see it. And what can I say of the cast except that they are an utter joy? It's equally true of everyone in front of the camera, even though the likes of Hiroko Berghauer, Daniel Ceccaldi, and Claire Duhamel are much less prominent. Above all, however, Jean-Pierre Léaud and Claude Jade are truly exceptional as Antoine and Christine, breathing life into their roles with nuance, personality, and emotion that are as real as they could be. 'Bed and board' could be even more tightly focused on the couple, removing other narrative aspects, and Léaud and Jade alone would make such an edit just as worthy.
And none of this would be possible if not for such tremendous writing. From the get-go it would seem to superficially portend mild, airy nothings, but there's wonderfully absorbing substance under that pastel veneer that is at once both sweetly rich and flavorful and as bewitching and meaningful as any more hard-hitting drama. It's a rather delicate balance that Truffaut attempts here, and in the hands of anyone less capable it may not have turned out well. From top to bottom, however, this is a demonstration of the utmost shrewd calculation and practiced of hands, resulting in a tableau that's as enchanting as rewarding as they come. I will admit that I had some doubts when I sat to watch, as not every well regarded classic meets with equal success for all, and again, even Truffaut's works haven't been all of one kind for me. I couldn't be happier with just how very good this is, though, and more so than with anything else the director gave us, this is surely a must-see. 'Bed and board' is without question a great movie fully deserving of the filmmaker's considerable reputation, and is very much worth seeking out. That's all there is to it.