A film (documentary) that didn't quite no what it wanted to be, a document of a film set and on the man on it descending into pathology, or the showing of an uncompleted film that may well have only fallen off the high wire of masterpiece at the final strain.
It lacked the narrative drive, characterisation, and perhaps raw material to ever really let us know Clouzot (whose earlier works it makes one wish to visit)or any of the stars of the film. The narrative of the chaos is meandering, as the reality was, and we lack much interesting primary evidence, to shock, entertain, or enlighten.
As a revelation of some stunning camera work though, it is vital. Soe of Clouzot's innovations now appear kitsch, but some also still shocks, excites, and makes one indeed wish for the iron fist of a producer. The black and white scenes also contain great momentum and excitment, and it is perhaps in some kind of completion of this project a true great film could lie.
Perhpas lacking the materials to fully side either way, this film is a diverting show of wonderful material, rather incoherently put together. Worth seeing, all the same.
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