this was the last film that the great Harry Baur made in France and the next-to-last film he made anywhere for having completed it he was conned into travelling to Germany to shoot what would prove to be his 79th and last movie after which he was tortured to death by the Nazis. Given these tragic circumstances one may be tempted to praise the final French film irrespective of whether or not it was up to snuff but I'm delighted to say that it is an excellent effort even if a tad derivative - a few years earlier Julien Duvivier had made one of his finest films as well as one of the finest of the thirties, Un Carnet de bal, in which a middle-aged woman sets out to trace the partners on her first dance card; now,with a little spin Harry Baur, acutely aware of time's winged chariot drawing near, sets out on a similar quest but in this case his quarries are the four sons he fathered by four separate women in his salad days. Predictably things don't go to plan but we do get four well-crafted stories for the price of one and as if that weren't enough the ubiquitous Gabrielle Fontan is on hand to add a touch of class. Baur was a credit to the French film industry and is as irreplaceable as Raimu, Michel Simon or Gabin and his final French film leaves an enduring memory
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