The measure of a good film, like a good painting, book or any other work of art, is its ability to draw you back time after time. I first saw M Hulot's Holiday more years ago than I care to remember and loved it immediately. The humour is gentle (it's not a laugh-a-minute riot) with superbly crafted scenes such as a tyre's inner tube transforming into a wreath interposed between the on-going observational humour as portrayed by the strolling husband and wife.
Seeing it again for the umpteenth time it's as fresh as the first time I saw it. In fact having lived in France for the best part of two years it appears even funnier now that it did before, something which, no doubt, reflects my own observations of the French way of life.
Seeing it again for the umpteenth time it's as fresh as the first time I saw it. In fact having lived in France for the best part of two years it appears even funnier now that it did before, something which, no doubt, reflects my own observations of the French way of life.