A Certain Smile

Christine Carère is a law student at the Sorbonne. She is engaged to fellow student Bradford Dillman. She has an affair with professor Rosssano Brazzi, which ends badly.

Jean Negulescu's lush version of Francoise Sagan's novel shows his painterly eye for landscapes and scenes, as Mlle Carère spouts existentialism as it is better to do than to be, and fouls things up completely. I have never read the book, so I can't tell if that is the mesae there, or if screenwriters Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett added that. I have a lot more sympathy for Joan Fontaine as Brazzi's wife.

Johnny Mathis gargles the Oscar-nominated title song.

Francoise Sagan's novel, tailor-made for sunbathers on the Riviera, has been adapted into the kind of schoolgirl-romantic movie the book deserves. French law student in Paris, a petite lass with doe-eyes, meets her fiancé's family for the first time: his wealthy snob of a mother, her overly-solicitous daughter and the daughter's husband, a suave charmer with a seductive manner. This older man takes the girl for a walk alone in the garden and kisses her; soon after, on a secret date, he proclaims his love for her. Twentieth-Century Fox had high hopes for new discovery Christine Carère, French film actress brought to Hollywood to dazzle Americans audiences. She followed this picture later the same year with the musical "Mardi Gras", but audiences weren't smitten and it's clear why. Carère's English is thick and astonished-sounding, her smile flirtatious, her stare coquettish and knowing. It isn't clear how much of a flirt or a tease this girl is meant to be, but when her heartbreak comes and Alfred Newman's romantic music is poured over the images, it's clear we're supposed to be mad about her. Although Carère's performance improves in the film's third act, it would take a gallant screen lover to find her irresistible. Seasoned pro Rossano Brazzi tries, much to his chagrin. ** from ****

After one innocent kiss a bittersweet romance eventually blossoms so naturally between young Dominique (Christine Carere) and the easygoing charmer Luc (Rossano Brazzi), who also happens to be married to Francoise (Joan Fontaine).

There is a tug of war within Dominique as she tries to come to terms with her feelings for Luc as well as for young Bertrand who wants to marry her. Human nature being what it is, we can understand all too well what she goes through -- the hopes and dreams, the joys and sorrows that make up life's experiences -- all are a part of her growing up. However, there is a price to pay for gaining maturity but she comes through in the end.

Romantic music throughout sets the mood for many tender scenes as well as a few frolicking lighthearted ones. Early on Johnny Mathis sings "A Certain Smile" to perfection. Don't pass this one up if you are a Mathis fan.

Joan Fontaine is admirable in her portrayal of the loving, caring wife who must deal with a husband's waywardness. One fine actress!

This is Romance indeed with a very human touch.

Here's a film that's boosted by its spectacular scenic splendor and a lovely title tune, A CERTAIN SMILE, sung by Johnny Mathis and immediately becoming one of his favorite hit tunes, which is about the only thing that will linger in your memory once the tawdry tale is over.

The simple story is a trifle (as all of Francoise Sagan's novels are), dealing as it does with the subject of flirtation and affairs. The affair is between a pretty young law student studying at the Sorbonne, CHRISTINE CARRERE, and ROSSANO BRAZZI, her Uncle Luc who is married to the sophisticated JOAN FONTAINE. Christine is also being pursued by a fellow law student, BRADFORD DILLMAN, but seems to prefer Brazzi's continental charm to callow youth.

Most of the trite story centers on the budding romance between Brazzi and Carrere, leaving Fontaine on the sidelines wondering what the glances between the two really mean. Does it really matter? She gazes with sophisticated charm at Johnny Mathis as he sings "A Certain Smile", all the while knowing that her husband is a philanderer.

It really has nothing new to say, but can be enjoyed on the basis of its CinemaScope grandeur and the performances of the leads, all of whom have done better work elsewhere and are pretty much wasted here.

Attractive looking romance fails to fully engage, despite glorious landscapes, Parisian backdrops and a glamorous A-list cast including a memorable performance by an enchanting Joan Fontaine. Her apparently fading allure is causing her husband Luc (Brazzi) to philander, his attentions straying to the nubile Parisian college student Dominique (Carere). To add to the evolving interlude, Brazzi is Bertrand's (Dillman) uncle, who in turn is enamoured by Dominique, chasing her tail all over Paris in spite of her sometimes erratic and distant behaviour (although Bertrand himself might be a little overbearing and loose with the vermouth).

At the intermission, Johnny Mathis steps up to croon the title tune, and thus escalates Luc's affections for a playful Dominique, partially inebriated on the grape juice. Fontaine seems to suspect Luc may be straying, displaying some subtle gestures, her wisdom laboured over years of Luc's infidelity. The scene in which Fontaine emasculates Brazzi for his adultery, and the one in which she coolly chides Carere's naivety are among the film's dramatic highlights. In essence, Fontaine steals this picture with her mature, dignified portrayal of a woman scorned.

Carere on the other hand is lukewarm, the nuances of her character aren't conveyed in her stilted performance; Brazzi, at the opposite extreme, lays it on too thick, like some hormonal Latin lover crying rivers of guilt and remorse as he laments the mutual attraction as some kind of perverse affliction of which he can't be cured. Dillman, in his debut picture, offers some character depth, but ends up merely a tragic cuckold and bystander in this colourful melodrama. The remainder of the supporting cast (Franz, Locke and Livingston) are reliable if largely uninvolved.

Next to Fontaine, the French Riviera is the most attractive feature - the sets, costumes, colour and sound are all assets, but the dramatic tone never seems to sustain the right pitch. Tepid and a little overlong if however you still revere Fontaine, or pine for the Paris lifestyle, this glossy magazine cover might still be worth the time.