This film is an attempt to give a serious and true account (to use the director's word) of the events of May 68 and their personal aftermath. That aim is ultimately political, and the film succeeds in being a testimony against forgetting, and against the revisionist and reactionary view of the 1960s which seems to have taken hold in the west since the 1980s.
However, as a work of art, the film is seriously flawed: It is about an hour too long. The dream sequences add nothing to either plot or character development -- one dream, for heaven's sake, shows rioters in period costume, in case we were too stupid to know the connections between 1968 and earlier riots in Paris. The film seems to unfold as if improvised -- eg, we learn that the main protagonist's girlfriend (whose name we don't learn immediately) is a sculptor who works in a foundry; then we see her sculpting; then we see a scene in a foundry -- it's as if the first line about her occupation was improvised, and so the director thought, "Oh, she's said she's a sculptor, so let's try doing a scene in her studio now." Finally, let me mention the long, lingering sequences where nothing is said, nothing happens, and nobody moves, as if the director has gone outside for a cigarette and left the camera running by mistake, and forgotten to tell the actors -- We were bored with this when Warhol did it, and it is still boring. This shows great disrespect for the audience, as if our attention did not matter a jot.
The commercial DVD contains a panel discussion at the Venice Film Festival, with the director, Philippe Garrel, two of the stars (including his son, Louis) and the producer on stage. The director completely dominates the discussion with long-winded and rambling replies to questions, and with a lack of humour that is itself almost comic. (This is in contrast to his son, who appears to have a keen, dry sense of humour.) When you see the director at work in this panel discussion, all the weaknesses of the film become understandable.
A great film, with great acting, undermined by the very personal flaws of the director.