Resnais had a curious career. From the avant-garde to this somewhat run of the mill version of what might have been a remarkable tale. You can understand the attraction of the story, one that he perhaps learnt about as a kid. Stavisky was a maverick Ukrainian born near Kiev who immigrated to France and built himself up as an impresario. He dabbled in the entertainment business as well as the bond market, where he made fraudulent profits which lead to his eventual demise in spite of having bribed a fair quantity of politicians. It’s a jazz age story set in Paris and Biarritz with an expensive costume budget and music by Sondheim, but besides these technical elements and Belmondo’s grandstanding, this feels like a film which is searching for its raison d’être. The narrative, told in part via flashback, has a heavy handed feel, and the film starts to sag under the weight of the menagerie of French character actors who traipse across the screen. It’s a long way from the formal playfulness of the director’s early work.
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