In which Robert Bresson, the master of stripped-down, economical misery, does a character study of a girl whose life is so horrible she ends up literally disappearing from the frame. The lead actress is astonishing, but I'm not as taken with this one as some cinephiles are. The first half is such a gorgeous evocation of crushing drudgery that it feels like a shame when it tips from the mundane to the melodramatic.
Grudgingly I suppose we know where it's going with grim realism, hunters and snares. Though one bird was freed from a trap, there wasn't much else to be optimistic about. It's a beautiful film but definitely mandates watching something more uplifting afterwards.