After the bucket of pretension I sat through in Godard's debut feature, I began with reluctance to watch Francois Truffaut's. Fortunately, this auteur knows something about plot and storytelling.
Poor Antoine Doinel is a touch hard done by and misunderstood. Unable to concentrate at school and neglected by his less than caring parents, he cuts class, runs away from home and takes to the streets of Paris for a short, half-hearted life of petty theft.
Allegedly his story is loosely based on Truffaut's own childhood. It is certainly told poignantly through a child's eyes and also through a love of Paris. Never have dingy bedsits, salubrious settings and even juvenile detention centres looked so beautiful. This is in part a love letter to Paris and all it's parts. It's opening shots are what Manhatten's are to New York, but after that there is no more Eiffel Tower, and the like, to be seen as he paints a pretty picture of the lesser parts!
Antoine's sad story is broken up by moments of joy. A ride on a centrefuge, a moment of family togetherness at a cinema and even in it's final scenes as he finally gets to see the coast. It's all very touching and you are behind him 100%, even in his moments of delinquence. His friendship with his one confident, Rene, is also rather tender.
It's a charming film. The ending leading to four more films of Antoine on the run. I must say that I am intrigued to know what happens to this charming little cad.
A film to see before you die? Certainly. My faith in French New Wave has been reignited. The cinematogrophy here is masterful and every frame is a picture postcard. Jean-Pierre Léaud is splendid in the lead role. Hard to believe he was only 14. Bravo.
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