I thought for a moment it was Gale Sondergaard under the bejewelled crown, but no - it's Jeanne Moreau as the eponymous lady who charms the pants, literally, from the French soldiers from whom she exacts more than kisses. She lives well on the proceeds of her courtesanship, but she also augments that cash by working for the Bosch towards the end of the Great War enabling them to acquire useful French state secrets. She is cold and calculating until she encounters "Lasalle" (Jean-Louis Trintignant). There's something about him that permeates her hitherto impervious armour, and though that doesn't stop her using him, unusually she begins to care. That's dangerous thing for both of them, and when he discovers that she is still trying to tap up his superiors, he decides to abandon ship before he gets hurt - well emotionally, anyway. Physically, well some shrapnel soon lays him low and brings her to his side for a reconciliation, and from her perspective, a bit of a reassessment of her priorities. Is it all too late, though? The drama is portrayed in just a bit too staccato a fashion here and though I did think there was some chemistry between the two, the story unfolds in quite an episodic manner with little real emotion to explain why she connected with him, or even why she was up to no good in the first place. Some context on that score might have elicited a little more sympathy for her but it's not there so it's left to be a slightly disappointing soapy melodrama with espionage trimmings. I did quite enjoy it, but it could have been better.
