We’ve done a good job of covering the early work of François Truffaut here on the blog. Well, I don’t know how good we’ve done, but we’ve done it. Thus far we’ve covered Truffaut’s first film, The 400 Blows, his second film, Shoot the Piano Player, and his fourth, Jules and Jim. We haven’t covered his third film, The Army Game, but it’s not in the Criterion Collection, so it doesn’t exist as far as I’m concerned.
The Soft Skin is Truffaut’s fifth film, a sexy ode to Hitchcock that underperformed upon its release on April 20th (nice), 1964. But why? What was it about The Soft Skin that failed to resonate with audiences? Was it TOO adult? Was it TOO soft? Let’s find out…
The Soft Skin follows Pierre Lachenay (Jean Desailly), an accomplished publisher and lecturer, “happily” married to Franca (Nelly Benedetti) and a father to a young daughter Sabine (Sabine Haudepin). While flying to Lisbon for another lecture, Pierre meets a flight attendant half his age named Nicole (Françoise Dorléac). Sparks fly, and the two have a passionate love affair. Trouble ensues.
“How is that like a Hitchcock movie?” you might ask. Well, it’s all about the tension. No, The Soft Skin doesn’t build tension through the guise of a murder mystery; rather, the film builds tension through mundane, everyday situations. Most of the film takes place in airports, hotels, and cafes, but there’s always that sense of unease. “When will the two be found out?” As Pierre becomes more paranoid, so do we, and you know a story like this can’t have a happy ending.
All of Truffaut’s films (that I’ve seen anyway) have this inevitability to them. The good times never last; they almost always end in tragedy. We see a character’s passion for something they love, then their detachment from ever feeling said passion in the first place. The heart wants what it wants, but sometimes the heart can be obtuse.
The Soft Skin is thematically rich, but watching it today, I can see why audiences weren’t as enamored with this film as they were with a film like The 400 Blows. It’s a word I hit on earlier: “mundane.” There’s a lack of whimsy in The Soft Skin compared to Truffaut’s earlier films. The settings, the routine, the repetition of events. Not to mention Pierre is a difficult character to sympathize with, considering he’s blowing off his wife and child for a selfish whim.
I give The Soft Skin credit for the time it devotes to Franca and her growing disdain, particularly in the film’s shocking ending. I won’t say much aside from the fact that a shotgun plays a pivotal role. I only wish the “juice” of the ending was felt in the rest of the film. I love the performances and the story, but the pacing and situations dragged.
Nonetheless, Truffaut is a thoughtful filmmaker, and I never regret revisiting his bittersweet view of the world. Like Kurosawa or Tarkovsky, Truffaut is one of the masters I find myself inexplicably drawn to every time Criterion Month rears its head. Will we meet again in 2025? Perhaps, but now I must say adieu.