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3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
"Has it never occurred to you that she's just a tramp?", 19 Feb 2009
This review is from: A Gorgeous Girl Like Me (Une Belle Fille Comme Moi) [1972] [DVD] (DVD)
Une Belle Fille Comme Moi aka A Gorgeous Girl Like Me is one of Truffaut's lesser films, more a diversion than anything particularly substantial, but it's not without its moments. The plot reads like a film noir staple - naïve sociologist Stanislas Prévine (Andre Dussollier, making his debut) becomes so enraptured with the hard luck case doing time for murder that he's chosen as the subject of his thesis, Camille Bliss (Bernadette Lafont), that he takes everything she says almost at face value and explains away her avaricious nature, setting himself up for a big fall. Nor is he her only victim, as her life story consists of going from one man to the next, exploiting them as much as they exploit her (if not more), luring one to his death and trying to arrange the same fate for another two in a series of `bets with fate.' But despite being based on a series noir novel, this takes the basic femme fatale model and plays it as broad comedy. Camille Bliss isn't sultry, stylish or mysterious but mouthy, common as muck and about as subtle as a sledgehammer in the groin. As Dussolier's infatuated typist observes, "Lack of love, sublimated penis, isn't it all far fetched? Has it never occurred to you that she's just a tramp?"
The film is filtered through her distorted self-serving memories as she talks a mile a minute, her narration is often clearly at odds with what we see, though at times absurdly heightened versions of events such being kicked literally through the air by her father are shown through her eyes as to emphasise how exaggerated her hard luck stories really are. If Lafont is hardly a feminist ideal, the men are no better, from Philippe Léotard's dumb mother-dominated, perpetually horny husband, Guy Marchand's third-rate club singer with a penchant for playing records of cars on the Indianapolis circuit when having sex, Claude Brasseur's sleazy lawyer or Charles Denner's terminally boring and blindly moralistic Arthur the Exterminator. Best regarded as a sporadically cartoonish parody of noir conventions with the various lowlifes dreaming of the big time stripped of their black and white Hollywood glamour and allure, it's not essential Truffaut but it's no disaster either. And there's a great throwaway moment when a prepubescent would-be auteur refuses to show his home movie footage that may prove or disprove her innocence because it isn't edited yet and he never shows anything while it's still in rushes.
Sadly the subtitle translation on Cinema Club's UK DVD isn't always as good as it could be - many of the extracts from the film in the French TV report from the set included on the disc alongside the original trailer have much better (and, crucially, funnier) translation.
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0 of 1 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
"Has it never occurred to you that she's just a tramp?", 26 July 2009
By Trevor Willsmer - Published on Amazon.com
Une Belle Fille Comme Moi aka A Gorgeous Girl Like Me is one of Truffaut's lesser films, more a diversion than anything particularly substantial, but it's not without its moments. The plot reads like a film noir staple - naïve sociologist Stanislas Prévine (Andre Dussollier, making his debut) becomes so enraptured with the hard luck case doing time for murder that he's chosen as the subject of his thesis, Camille Bliss (Bernadette Lafont), that he takes everything she says almost at face value and explains away her avaricious nature, setting himself up for a big fall. Nor is he her only victim, as her life story consists of going from one man to the next, exploiting them as much as they exploit her (if not more), luring one to his death and trying to arrange the same fate for another two in a series of `bets with fate.' But despite being based on a series noir novel, this takes the basic femme fatale model and plays it as broad comedy. Camille Bliss isn't sultry, stylish or mysterious but mouthy, common as muck and about as subtle as a sledgehammer in the groin. As Dussolier's infatuated typist observes, "Lack of love, sublimated penis, isn't it all far fetched? Has it never occurred to you that she's just a tramp?"
The film is filtered through her distorted self-serving memories as she talks a mile a minute, her narration is often clearly at odds with what we see, though at times absurdly heightened versions of events such being kicked literally through the air by her father are shown through her eyes as to emphasise how exaggerated her hard luck stories really are. If Lafont is hardly a feminist ideal, the men are no better, from Philippe Léotard's dumb mother-dominated, perpetually horny husband, Guy Marchand's third-rate club singer with a penchant for playing records of cars on the Indianapolis circuit when having sex, Claude Brasseur's sleazy lawyer or Charles Denner's terminally boring and blindly moralistic Arthur the Exterminator. Best regarded as a sporadically cartoonish parody of noir conventions with the various lowlifes dreaming of the big time stripped of their black and white Hollywood glamour and allure, it's not essential Truffaut but it's no disaster either. And there's a great throwaway moment when a prepubescent would-be auteur refuses to show his home movie footage that may prove or disprove her innocence because it isn't edited yet and he never shows anything while it's still in rushes.
Extras on the Australian PAL DVD include a French TV report from the set, interviews with Truffaut and Lafont and the original trailer.
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