Blier kicks off with a dream that must be uppermost in the male psyche: Nathalie Baye entering your railway carriage and demanding a fast one from the luggage rack. The trouble here is that she picks on Delon, a drunken old romantic, who just won't let her go. She is intent on being a short story; he clearly prefers Russian novels. There are glorious scenes of the town's male population shuttling from house to house in dressing gowns, their coitus forever interrupted, which bring to mind the anarchy and nightmare of Buñuel. But the ending looks like a shaky conclusion to a film with nowhere to go. However, Baye grows more and more beautiful, while at 50 Delon looks like he hasn't slept for years. CPea.