Philippe Garrel makes difficult films that don't offer much to the spectator in the way of narrative or explanation of the character's actions. They stay in the mind (if at all) by virtue of lovely moments (I think of the street riot in Les Amants reguliers, with that superb camera-work). Le vent de la nuit has very little going for it, apart from the loveliness of Catherine Deneuve. Daniel Duval is squarely in the second rank of French actors, sort of a poor man's Gérard Lanvin, but at least he is an actor, unlike Xavier Beauvois who mumbles and whines his way through the picture.
The road scenes seem to go on forever, with Paul asking Serge all sorts of dumb questions about the older man's participation in May 1968 events. At one point, he asks if there is a difference between driving and piloting a sports car. I would have pulled over and ordered him out right away. Shame Serge didn't.
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