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With the possible exception of Grémillon's Pattes Blanches, Anouilh's work as a scriptwriter has always proved dispiritingly leaden by comparison with his plays, nowhere more so than in his rewrite of Arthur Schnitzler for Vadim's horrible remake of La Ronde. Displaying much the same sort of predictable playfulness, this trilogy of bitter-sweet romantic anecdotes (the last with a touch of farce), set in Paris between 1937 and 1945, is not helped by direction which drenches it in an ooh-la-la atmosphere of Eiffel Tower, accordion music and toujours l'amour.
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