My Night at Maud's movie review (1970)

Jean-Louis Trintignant (who played the prosecutor in "Z" and the man in "A Man and a Woman") is perfectly believable as a 34-year-old devout Catholic who is lonely and sensitive and would rather be married than single. He takes the church's teachings on courtship and marriage quite seriously and is articulate in defending them against his dissenting friends. He's held jobs overseas for several years, but when we meet him, he is employed by Michelin in a French provincial capital, and is in love at a distance with a blond girl he's never met: He sees her in church on Sundays and occasionally sees her guiding her motorcycle through the streets.

One day he runs into an old friend who takes him to the home of his fiancé, Maud. Maud is a divorcee who dates the old friend but won't marry him. She likes Jean-Louis and asks him to stay when the friend must leave.

And then follows one of the most marvelously observed scenes of human behavior I can remember in a film. The two people talk nearly all night. Maud is in her nightgown and sits in bed propped up against her pillows. Jean-Louis sits in one chair or another, or walks around the room. They talk about sex, love, marriage and divorce. The conversation moves from flippancy to intimacy, and then has a way of drawing back from too much truth-telling.

The choreography of the scene perfectly reflects its content. Occasionally, Jean-Louis sits on the edge of the bed. Once he even leans toward her, to share a confidence. But then he retreats. She asks for a cigarette at one time, a drink of water at another. These are ploys to lure him closer, and he has his own. But there are times, when she signals that he's violating her personal space, or territorial imperative, or whatever it's called. And he reads the signals and moves away, apparently by chance.