A real revelation. I suppose it can be seen as a cheery update of Obsessione and The Postman rings twice, in the sense that it deals with the old story of infidelity, but in this case there is no hint of the noirish intrigue, no fiendish murder plotting, in fact not much of the usual drama at all – until of course the body of the wife appears. I love the whole look of the film and at first I was put off by the intrusive Mozart score and the kitschness of it – I kept telling myself this can’t be happening, surely it cannot end happily, after all this is a French movie from the 60s! The twist in this case is not some terrifying abduction, murder or other obvious tragedy, but the casual meeting and gradual love affair between the husband and the postmistress. The manner of the husband’s honesty in finally disclosing the facts to his ‘perfect’ wife is mindblowingly naive/masochistic and in a sense reflects the big lie of the 60s – ie that free love can be seen as mysogyny and the abuse of women. The fact that Varda suggested this even before the legacy of the period was fully realised is very prophetic. The power of the film is the paradox between the apparently upbeat tale (reflected visually by the beautiful photography, music and lyricism) and the shocking cruelty towards the loving wife, leading to her suicide (or accidental death). This scene is particularly effective thanks to repeat edits and no soundtrack.

It’s visually amazing, with sharp and repetitive editing, chromatic fade ins and outs, and seems fresh and influential (It reminded me of Almodovar’s framing and use of colour) It is amazing to think that this was made in 1964 and even now the film seems very relevant. Varda could be attacking the casual French infidelity tale here, but whereas Truffaut or Chabrol (for instance) told this tale with noirish intrigue and violence, this is presented as somehow less offensive, with no hint of any advanced plotting on the husband’s part. The shock is that he appears to have no conscience at all and seems happy to simply carry on, replacing his dead wife with the lover. The final idyllic frames, of the husband and his lover/replacement wife, cleverly echoing the opening family scenes with the now dead wife, are incredibly powerful; leaving a very bad taste in the mouth. Nasty.