Another case of mistaken identity. The poster outside promises us a 'sensitive
love story', with an absolute beauty in sensual white adorning it. And that is
the best you feel in the following 90 minutes, and for a long time thereafter.
The beauty in the poster was most probably thought unfit for the movie and her
role terminated after the poster was shot.
It would take a pretty mindless satyromaniac to find this movie sensitive when
the male lead is a bloke with a hyperactive libido, screwing anything in skirts
that he happens to chance upon. The only feeling it may at best inspire is love
and longing for the world of the sane.
For the plot, we are taken to the beginning of the 20th century, where Claude
Roc, a young middle-class Frenchman, meets, in Paris, Ann Brown, a young Englishwoman.
They become friends and Ann invites him to spend holidays at the house where she
lives with her mother and her sister Muriel, for whom she intends Claude. During
these holidays, Claude, Ann and Muriel become very close, and he gradually falls
in love with Muriel. But both families lay down a one-year-long separation clause
without any contact before agreeing to the marriage.
And this is where the old joke about Frenchmen is relived again, and again, and
again... Claude goes back to Paris, where he has many love affairs before sending
Muriel a break-off letter. That is when we have our two (hot?) girls setting out
to set things right.
And suddenly you lose all comprehension of whose bed who is getting into. The
last half-hour is totally devoted to convincing you that sex is the national activity
in France. And, we dare say, the film does a pretty good job at that. The two
estranged lovers come together in an unbelievable climax. And believe it not,
you've actually sat throughout the flick by now.
Only, how you wish you hadn't.