A curious film that in many ways, viewed today, looks a bit silly. Leaving your broken down car, doors open in the midst of nowhere, living in the lap of luxury with someone to look after child, household and cooking and worried only about weekend trips to see a lover and then taking up with another - and feeling hard done by. With regard to the ordinariness of the affairs and the acceptance that a husband is there to facilitate such behaviour is perhaps peculiarly French as is the tendency, as here, to bring a poetic almost child like quality into the romantic ideal. Whatever the basis for these elements a twenty-five year old Malle confidently and most competently brings them together so beautifully that we suspend our disbelief, particularly for the magical moonlight garden sequence as Moreau moves sensuously amidst the trees, the watermill and the little boat on the lake before we move inside for a daring episode upon the bed. Causing much consternation at the time in France and other countries it is necessary to pinch oneself and bear in mind this is the late 50s and yet we have nudity, off screen orgasm and a family left in favour of a new love. So, yes, looks a little silly now, here and there, but well worth watching for Moreau and that half hour or so of day for night magic.