There is something timeless in its depiction of idealism, that a man can look at a woman or a roulette table and think it will bend to his whim. But Demy is better depicting multiple characters, the isolated view keeps Moreau purely as surface. And roulette is a completely un-cinematic game.
Super-stylish wedlock of the ordinary (a bank clerk) and the extraordinary (a gambling nymph). The amoralism of Moreau's compulsion is surreptitously addictive, very much like gambling: society's modern form of magic. Demy does wonders not only in the famous opening shot but also with the aural synecdoches of the casino chips and the seashore pebbles. A nearly religious litany about chance, this is hugely attractive!
Respectfully disagree. Lacks the depth to seem more than fetishistic, to me, and on the other hand lacks the energy to be truly iconic. Demy excels - is at peak nuance, depth, empathy, wit, subversion - in his musicals. But these others always leave me, honestly, just a little bored, and mildly irritated at something like their unused potential.
Perfect for a melancholic summer day, when the weather is shitty and you want to see a piece of the Riviera, even if it's in just black and white. Familiar downbeat mood of a Demy film, but somehow I was more enthralled by this than by anything else I've seen from him.
A young man becomes a gambler, meets a woman, becomes infatuated, and starts living life by chance. It's never a good idea gamble with money, let alone life. It's a story about getting poisoned, and about two different lives trying to live together in a way that can only cause harm. The man misunderstands the relationship, and it is his job to misunderstand because the woman is in control, and she makes the rules.