Bresson's films, never upbeat at the best of times, became increasingly pessimistic, and this final film shows his view of the corrupting effect of money. Based on a Tolstoy story updated to 1980s Paris, it shows how the passing of a forged note turns an apparently honest young man into a mass murderer; this may sound melodramatic, but seeing the film it becomes wholly believable. Bresson's spare and elliptical film-making technique is as fresh as ever; no shot is unnecessary or wasted, and you have to work hard to fill in the gaps, as it were (a variant, perhaps, on Godard's jump-cuts). The effect on the attentive viewer is sheer exhileration. As usual, Bresson eschews psychological motivation; for example, one character who is shown as a downright crook is suddenly revealed to have given away much of his money to charity. Nobody is totally bad in Bresson's universe; this can be interpreted in a Christian way by saying that God's grace breaks through to even the most hardened sinner. You don't actually see any of the violence; it's all implied (or happens off-screen). A brilliant film, and a fitting conclusion to a brilliant film-making career.