Attractive looking romance fails to engage, despite glorious landscapes, Parisian backdrops and an A-list cast including a faithful performance by an enchanting Joan Fontaine. Her apparently fading allure is causing her husband Luc (Brazzi) to philander, his attentions straying to the nubile Parisian college student Dominique (Carere). To add to the interlude, Brazzi is Bertrand's (Dillman) uncle; Bertrand in turn is enamoured by Dominique, chasing her tail all over Paris in spite of her rather aloof and distant behaviour.
At the intermission, Johnny Mathis steps up to croon the title tune, and thus introduces Luc's affections to Dominique. Bertrand, aware of her distraction, but not suspecting of his own uncle seems oblivious to Fontaine's subtle hints, her wisdom laboured over years of Luc's infidelity. The scenes in which Fontaine emasculates Brazzi for his adultery, and the one in which she coolly chides Carere's naivety are among the film's rare highlights. In essence, Fontaine steals this picture with her mature, dignified portrayal of a woman scorned.
Carere is lukewarm, the nuances of her character aren't conveyed in her stilted performance; Brazzi, at the opposite extreme lays it on too thick, like some hormonal Latin lover crying rivers of guilt and remorse as he laments the mutual attraction as some kind of perverse affliction. Dillman, in his debut picture, offers some resistance, but ends up a tragic cuckold. The remainder of the supporting cast (Franz, Locke and Livingston) are reliable if largely uninvolved.
Next to Fontaine, the French Riviera is the most attractive feature of this rather sterile soap opera - the sets, costumes, colour and sound are all assets, but the dramatic tone just doesn't hit the right pitch. Tepid, overlong and in the final analysis, disappointing. If, however (like myself) you still revere Fontaine, or, pine for the Paris lifestyle, this glossy magazine cover will be worth the time.
