A young woman moves around her isolated house. Outside in the dark, among the trees, a man watches her - is he smiling? From this equivocal opening there unfolds a tale, unpredictable but of rather precarious credibility, that takes in rage, persecution and several violent deaths. Actually the plot is unpredictable only if you haven't read the Patricia Highsmith novel of which this is a doggedly faithful adaptation. Since Highsmith and Chabrol have so much in common, both as regards tone and preoccupations, it's surprising it took so long for their paths to cross. But maybe it's precisely this lack of reciprocity which explains why the movie is somewhat disappointing. Author and director in this case are not complementary so much as tautological.