This film could only have been made by the French, and then only in the 1970's. It would be easy to dismiss it at first glance as a chauvinist celebration of political incorrectness; indeed, when the Americans tried to remake it in 1983 by casting Burt Reynolds in the Charles Denner role, that is exactly what it became.
However, here the story is in the hands of a master. Truffaut's deft directorial touch poses myriad questions about the nature of the relationship between men and women; about love, commitment; physical attraction and sexual politics. The film begins with the funeral of Betrand Morane (Denner), attended only by women and then tells the story of his relationships with most of them. Interestingly, he really does love the women - he can't seem to help loving them. He is not a philanderer, nor is he interested in conquest or sexual gratification: the film is, in fact, strangely asexual.
He decides to write about his experiences, the book is dismissed by the male reviewers but his manuscript is accepted by the sole female with whom Morane inevitably falls in love. As the story moves forward and, in doing so, flashes back, one grows to like Morane more and more; he is a sweet, bewildered character who is also a man loved by women. This film will not be for all: if you are the Hollywood blockbuster type; if you hate subtitles; if you like your films with nice, neat endings then this is not for you. However, for lovers of the European school of whimsy, this is a must; not Truffaut's best - but even his second best is better than most.