Yes, it's bad enough when a sitcom does a clip show, let alone Truffaut, and their presence is intrusive as often as wistful. But it's not inapt: by the end, it's easier to imagine that when a storyteller as shamelessly personal as Truffaut has been at it so long, reflecting on their life and their movies are the same. A beguiling meta knot. I wonder if its flaws are wishful thinking-and if that makes it better.
Review of Love on the Run
