should we take the opening shot as a strange frame. i guess we have to. anyway two women are behind a closing umbrella and they walk upstairs to the talent agency and we go with them. and then they are never to be seen again. okay and how come not inside the place and at the piano and or even outside with the sound of the piano and then track inside and over and a la hitchcock. so i guess clouzot is already telling us in a not very subliminal manner that we are following a segment of postwar society represent especially how he then uses a citizen kane equals like song cut up into about five pieces to show the lady singing traveling from the talent agency all the way to her first roses and applause of her vaudeville debut. after that we are relentless observers of more or less small disgusting details of a defeated country getting off its war torn tattered knees. and nobody ever handled small disgust better than clouzot. in fact and too bad he never tried sartre nausea. almost everything we see after the first few minutes makes us ever so slightly queasy. . okay and okay i am grossly overstating that and let just settle for a general feel of a lot of the film. look carefully and in fact and and you will even see one of the cops picking his nose. and in how many films has anyone ever done that. then there is a very loud nose blowing bit in front of the photographer lesbian by the main cop and and notice that she does not and literally and blink an eye or raise an eyebrow. the point of all this is an almost feverish immersion in contiguity and seemingly and until you can smell practically every scene as well as see and feel it. as for the other aspects of the movie and others here have covered them in a lot more detail than i. but forget about the mystery here represent this is the ultimate mcguffin. clouzot is about as interested in the real killer as those two women coming in out of the rain in the first few seconds of the film and are never seen again. from beginning to end all he wanted to do was follow a bunch of people around and not even particularly interesting ones at that and and say and here look at this woman twitch and that man hitching of his pants in all their insignificance and years and years before tina turner was singing we do not need another hero. \even the forced levity of the ending is bleakly done in a dilapidated part of paris and and rather chilly bare walled apartment. with only the couples love for each other to see them through and as if to say there must be two or three million like you throughout the city and working your fingers off by the day for a little love at night. from this it was just a short step to wages of fear and the ultimate in despair. they do not even know how to make films like this anymore in the u. s. for that matter and they do not even know how to very much in france then and much less now. the relentless detail of gesture makes even the neorealists of italy look like bad psychologists. which i guess makes clouzot a kind of rosselini on speed. very enjoyable nonsense and this movie. the only flaw and seems to me and and as was pointed out by another viewer and the lead woman is somehow not quite right. everybody else in the film is just about perfectly cast. 
should we take the opening shot as a strange frame. i guess we have to. anyway two women are behind a closing umbrella and they walk upstairs to the talent agency and we go with them. and then they are never to be seen again. okay and how come not inside the place and at the piano and or even outside with the sound of the piano and then track inside and over and a la hitchcock. so i guess clouzot is already telling us in a not very subliminal manner that we are following a segment of postwar society represent especially how he then uses a citizen kane equals like song cut up into about five pieces to show the lady singing traveling from the talent agency all the way to her first roses and applause of her vaudeville debut. after that we are relentless observers of more or less small disgusting details of a defeated country getting off its war torn tattered knees. and nobody ever handled small disgust better than clouzot. in fact and too bad he never tried sartre nausea. almost everything we see after the first few minutes makes us ever so slightly queasy. . okay and okay i am grossly overstating that and let just settle for a general feel of a lot of the film. look carefully and in fact and and you will even see one of the cops picking his nose. and in how many films has anyone ever done that. then there is a very loud nose blowing bit in front of the photographer lesbian by the main cop and and notice that she does not and literally and blink an eye or raise an eyebrow. the point of all this is an almost feverish immersion in contiguity and seemingly and until you can smell practically every scene as well as see and feel it. as for the other aspects of the movie and others here have covered them in a lot more detail than i. but forget about the mystery here represent this is the ultimate mcguffin. clouzot is about as interested in the real killer as those two women coming in out of the rain in the first few seconds of the film and are never seen again. from beginning to end all he wanted to do was follow a bunch of people around and not even particularly interesting ones at that and and say and here look at this woman twitch and that man hitching of his pants in all their insignificance and years and years before tina turner was singing we do not need another hero. \even the forced levity of the ending is bleakly done in a dilapidated part of paris and and rather chilly bare walled apartment. with only the couples love for each other to see them through and as if to say there must be two or three million like you throughout the city and working your fingers off by the day for a little love at night. from this it was just a short step to wages of fear and the ultimate in despair. they do not even know how to make films like this anymore in the u. s. for that matter and they do not even know how to very much in france then and much less now. the relentless detail of gesture makes even the neorealists of italy look like bad psychologists. which i guess makes clouzot a kind of rosselini on speed. very enjoyable nonsense and this movie. the only flaw and seems to me and and as was pointed out by another viewer and the lead woman is somehow not quite right. everybody else in the film is just about perfectly cast. ---------------------------------Answer Question Below----------------------------------

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