A self-consciously theatrical film about WWII, which makes perfect sense because it's about characters who, in one way or another, use theater as a hideout from the war. Maybe it's because Truffaut loved Children of Paradise, maybe it's an attempt to grapple with a desire to be more diverting than political—the artistic process as its own salvation. Circa 1980, Godard was more interesting. But Truffaut was more fun.
The Last Metro takes you behind the stage of a theater in German occupation of France. The title refers to the practice under which Parisians theaters ended shows in time for audiences to catch trains home before the curfew. An inspiring film that conjures history and drama in a theater troupe.
A near perfect movie at least visually and in the acting department as it is hard not to be absorbed by the spectacle and setting of a theater trying to survive in occupied WW2 France. Not so sure if the story manages to really fullfill all it could accomplish with it's marvellous build-up though, but what we get is still gripping and memorable.
It may not be among Truffaut's very best, yet this historical drama, after an academic beginning, mesmerizes and reveals its aesthetic merits (from the elegant shots to the beautiful yellow shades in the theatre interiors) as a romance unfolds amidst war and persecution. Toying intelligently with artifice it still glows with its grace and the controlled handling of mood in weaving together biography and history.
I found it too long and partly really boring. I think it had too many layers of action, i couldnt really concentrate what was the main story. The relationship between D and D - very uninteresting until the end, but then it remains open. I don't know...too sophisticated messy for me.The last 20 minutes were more alert and more unitary. And finally, after 2 hours of nothing substancial, open end and no real conclusion.
Deneuve et sa froideur intimidante auront eu raison du supplément d'âme que l'on distingue habituellement chez Truffaut. Le théâtre n'est pas l'abri où l'on souffle mais le terrain de batailles internes en tout genre (censure, amour, argent) qui deviennent éprouvantes pour le spectateur, essoufflé dès le début de la seconde partie. Depardieu en ressort toutefois sans égratignure grâce à sa justesse enivrante