You want a good film? I give you Truffaut's The Soft Skin

My interest in films is waning (May 19 post). Is it my declining attention span or are movies more mediocre? Or is it because I’ve seen so many that I’m jaded? I read about the accolades for Joachim Trier’s Sentimental Value (which won the Cannes’ Grand Prix and has large Oscar potential) or Bong Joon Ho’s 2019 Parasite (Oscar for Best Picture and the Cannes’ Palme d'Or; 99% on Rotten Tomatoes). Trier’s film while interesting was overly long and sentimental. Ho’s was a complete bore and I stopped watching after 45 minutes. What, I kept asking myself, is so good about this story of a poor family running amok at a rich family’s designer home? Ah, said a critic this weekend on NPR, the “social” message of the poor eating the rich. He rated it, of course, his number one film. Yes, yes but…that’ s a social message, I want a cinematic message. Occasionally, however, in these gray days for film, I come across one that reinvigorates and shows what the medium is capable of. I give you Francois Truffaut’s 1964 The Soft Skin (part of Criterion Channel's French New Wave 'Now Playing' series) I’d seen this movie before, loved it, but didn’t want to watch again because of its (spoiler alert) tragic ending. Only the ending differed from what I remembered though no less disconsolate. And a bonus: it stars Françoise Dorléac, Catherine Deneuve’s older sister, a rising star in her own right who died tragically in a car crash in 1967. The film is about an affair. Here’s what’s great about it. The subtlety of the story captures the psychological tension of the players vis-a-vis the married couple (Jean Desailly and Nelly Benedetti as Pierre and Franca Lachenay) and the mistress (Nicole, played by Dorléac). In other words, it’s easy to see how unexpected mutual attraction can lead to immersive love eviscerating a mundane marriage. So, in portraying this interpersonal dynamic the film excels, from the camera capturing furtive eye contact to initial awkward gestures. But more than the personal story the film – as a film – makes for captivating viewing. Because Truffaut never lets your interest wane. Even in the most pedestrian moments – driving in a car, riding an elevator – the camera locks on to otherwise nondescript elements (a dashboard panel, numbers of the passing floors), that serve as punctuation marks that keep the momentum flowing. Another example: instead of a stereotyped shot of an airliner the camera is in the cockpit as the plane lands. In other words, every scene is fresh and different and therefore counts and glues the whole thing together. Which is, folks, the sign of brilliant filmmaking.