The Soft Skin

When a director's filmography is filled with pioneering masterpieces like 'The 400 Blows' and 'Jules and Jim,' it can become easy for some other efforts to slip through the cracks. After all, Francois Truffaut has made so many notable and widely regarded French New Wave classics, that it's only natural for there to be a few overlooked titles throughout his body of work. Originally panned upon its initial release in 1964, 'The Soft Skin' is such a title. Heavily informed by the works of Alfred Hitchcock, the movie offers a suspenseful look at the rise and fall of an adulterous relationship, casting a tense shadow over love's blossoming embrace.   

Pierre Lachenay (Jean Desailly) is a successful writer and editor who lives a seemingly ordinary and happy life with his wife and daughter. But when he meets a beautiful stewardess, Nicole (Françoise Dorléac), the man becomes transfixed. After confirming their mutual attraction, the two embark on an illicit affair. With passions ignited, the lovers attempt to keep their relationship a secret, but potential exposure lurks around every corner threatening to ruin their burgeoning romance.

In the included special features, director Francois Truffaut elaborates on his goal of creating "an autopsy of adultery," and really, that description couldn't be more appropriate. Using a carefully measured visual style greatly influenced by the works of Alfred Hitchcock, the movie offers a tense yet meticulous examination of infidelity, carrying us through the affair's humble beginnings, passionate zenith, and ultimately tragic end. Initially, the relationship begins only through a series of powerful glances, creating escalating desire through key looks, close-ups, and reaction shots between our two illicit lovers. These longing expressions slowly build toward greater action, and through Truffaut's lens, adultery becomes framed like an intricate crime, milking potent suspense from the ever looming threat of getting caught.

Tension is constructed, extended, and decompressed through careful manipulations of time and rhythm, with the filmmakers employing a mixture of deliberate editing and long takes to tell the story. Intensifying montage is used to speed up the tempo and engender a sense of uncertainty, using specific series of cuts between people, objects, and locations to heighten the drama's level of risk. In contrast, sustained, reframing scenes tend to carefully draw out moments and emotions, like when Pierre first calls Nicole on his hotel phone, engendering a different tempo of anticipation. Other stylistic flourishes such as freeze frame, POV, dissolves, and voyeuristic telephoto zooms are used as well, though these flashier elements are applied sparingly, helping to create a comparatively clinical and dry aesthetic that is slightly at odds with some of Truffaut's other more visually exuberant efforts.

That's not to say that the approach here is completely sterile, however, as there is a gently sensual and tragic undercurrent throughout the film's runtime, perfectly bolstered by Georges Delerue's somber score. Unfortunately, the plot does veer toward the melodramatic in the third act and the story itself is rather basic and predictable. Likewise, though the performances are strong, we never really get much of a sense for any of the characters beyond their adulterous actions, making it difficult to care about their conflicts. Pierre, Nicole, and Pierre's wife are never particularly likeable. Instead they are more neutral and increasingly unpleasant figures that never really display much personality or depth.

Ultimately, Truffaut's cinematic approach to the story proves to be far more compelling than the story itself. While there is a lot to admire about the filmmaking on display, one can't help but wish that the plot and characters were a bit more fleshed out and original. 'The Soft Skin' is still a worthy title from the legendary director, but it just feels a tad ordinary and restrained when compared to his stronger masterpieces. Rooted in the potent visual tools of Alfred Hitchcock and filtered through Truffaut's own unique sensibilities, the film serves as an imperfect yet stylistically deep examination of infidelity, creating a kind of silver screen affair between "The Master of Suspense" and one of the French New Wave's central pioneers. 

The Blu-ray: Vital Disc Stats

Criterion presents 'The Soft Skin' in their standard clear case with spine number 749. The BD-50 Region A disc comes packaged with a pamphlet featuring an essay by critic Molly Haskell.