Brigitte Bardot is on trial for murdering her lover, Sami Frey; after shooting him, she tried to kill herself by gas; the emergency services arrived in time to save her. As the trial proceeds, a portrait of her character emerges in the mouths of the lawyers and in flashback: lazy, self-infulgent, promiscuous, jealous of her hard-working sister; yet Frey was the love of her life, even though she was not faithful to him. Was it a crime passionel, or something wild, crazy left-bankers do, and what is the staid, ritual-bound, retrograde legal system to make of her?
On the surface it looks like director Henri-George Clouzot is taking time out from his earleier, anger-filled movies, to make a certain box-office winner, with La Bardot the center of attention, and Paul Meurisse and Charles Vanel as opposing counsels. Yet Clouzot's contempt for everyone, from the self-indulgent youngsters, to the obtuse court proceedings. There's little of the openly shocking behavior he is so fond of in his other movies; the entire system is sick.
On the surface it looks like director Henri-George Clouzot is taking time out from his earleier, anger-filled movies, to make a certain box-office winner, with La Bardot the center of attention, and Paul Meurisse and Charles Vanel as opposing counsels. Yet Clouzot's contempt for everyone, from the self-indulgent youngsters, to the obtuse court proceedings. There's little of the openly shocking behavior he is so fond of in his other movies; the entire system is sick.