Claude Lelouch was twenty-eight when he changed everything. He was broke, his previous film had tanked, and he was sitting on a beach in Deauville at dawn. He saw a woman walking with a child. That's it. That was the spark for A Man and a Woman (Un homme et une femme), a movie that shouldn't have worked but ended up winning the Palme d'Or and two Oscars. It’s a simple story. Two widowed parents meet at their children's boarding school. They fall in love. But the way Lelouch tells it? It’s pure electricity.
Most people today think of "French Cinema" and imagine something slow, black and white, and maybe a bit pretentious. This movie kills that stereotype. It’s fast. It’s colorful—well, sometimes. It’s got a racing heart. Literally. Jean-Louis Trintignant plays a race car driver, and the roar of engines is just as important as the dialogue. If you’ve ever felt that weird, stomach-flipping anxiety of starting a second-chance romance, this film gets you.
The Budget Hack That Became a Style
You probably noticed while watching that the film jumps between lush color, sepia tones, and stark black and white. Most film students will give you a deep, philosophical reason for this. They’ll talk about the "internal landscape of memory" or "the duality of grief."
Honestly? Lelouch just ran out of money.
Color film stock was expensive in 1965. Black and white was cheaper. Sepia was a middle ground. He used whatever he had left in the bag to finish the day. But because he’s a genius, he timed these shifts to match the emotional beats of the story. When Jean-Louis and Anne (played by the incredible Anouk Aimée) are together in the "present," it feels one way. When they drift into memories of their dead spouses, it feels another. It was a happy accident that became one of the most iconic visual signatures in cinema history. It makes the movie feel like a dream you’re trying to remember.
Pierre Barouh and the Song You Can’t Escape
"Samba Saravah." Or just the "Dabadabada" song.
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Francis Lai wrote the score, and it’s basically a character in the film. You can’t talk about A Man and a Woman without mentioning that bossa nova beat. In the mid-sixties, France was obsessed with Brazilian culture. Pierre Barouh, who plays Anne’s late husband in the flashbacks, was the guy who actually brought bossa nova to Paris. He wasn't just an actor; he was a musical scout.
The music isn't just background noise. It dictates the editing. Lelouch often filmed with the music playing on set to get the actors into the rhythm. It created this organic, fluid movement where the camera feels like it’s dancing. It’s why the movie feels so light despite dealing with heavy themes like suicide and accidental death. It’s got a pulse.
Why Jean-Louis Trintignant Was the Perfect Choice
Jean-Louis Trintignant wasn't your typical leading man. He wasn't rugged like Belmondo or classically "pretty" like Delon. He was quiet. Reserved. A bit mysterious. This worked perfectly for a character who spends half the movie behind the wheel of a Ford Mustang.
Trintignant was actually a huge car enthusiast in real life. His uncle, Maurice Trintignant, was a famous Formula One driver. When you see him driving in the Monte Carlo Rally in the film, that’s not a stunt double. That’s him. He’s actually doing it. That authenticity is why the racing sequences don't feel like "action scenes" shoved into a romance. They feel like a man’s meditation. For Jean-Louis's character, driving at 200 kilometers per hour is the only time he isn't thinking about his past.
Anouk Aimée and the Art of the "Cool" Heroine
Then there’s Anouk Aimée. She has this look. It’s like she knows a secret she’s never going to tell you. In A Man and a Woman, she plays a film script supervisor. It’s a meta-nod to the industry, but she brings a grounded, working-mom energy to it that was rare for the time.
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She isn't a damsel. She’s a woman who has been shattered by the death of her husband—a stuntman who died on set—and she’s terrified of being hurt again. Her performance is all in the eyes. When Jean-Louis sends her that famous telegram ("I love you"), her reaction isn't just joy. It’s panic. It’s "Oh no, now I have to deal with this." It’s human.
The Mustang as a Supporting Actor
We have to talk about the Ford Mustang. It’s as much a star as the humans. In 1966, the Mustang was the symbol of American "cool" invading Europe. It was sleek, powerful, and affordable. By putting his protagonist in a white Mustang, Lelouch was signaling a break from the dusty, old-fashioned European cinema of the 1950s. This was the New Wave, but with more horsepower.
The car represents freedom, but also the barrier between the two leads. They spend so much time in cars—driving to the school, driving to Deauville, driving back to Paris. The car is a private bubble where they can talk without the world intruding. It’s the ultimate 1960s road movie romance.
That Ending (No Spoilers, But Kind Of)
The ending of A Man and a Woman is famous for being "unsatisfying" to people who want a Hollywood "happily ever after." But it’s the only ending that makes sense. Grief doesn't just disappear because you met someone cute at a boarding school. It lingers.
Lelouch shows us that love is a choice you have to keep making, even when it’s inconvenient. Even when you’re tired. Even when you’re driving through the night on no sleep just to see someone for five minutes. The final shot at the train station is iconic for a reason. It’s hopeful, but it’s heavy.
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The Legacy: It Didn't End in 1966
Most people don't realize Lelouch returned to these characters twice. First in 1986 with A Man and a Woman: 20 Years Later, and then again in 2019 with The Best Years of a Life.
The 2019 film is actually quite moving. Seeing Trintignant and Aimée together again, fifty years older, playing the same characters, is a trip. It turns the original film into a living document. It’s no longer just a movie about two young people; it’s a trilogy about the entire span of a human life and how we carry our first loves with us into our eighties. It's rare to see a director and his actors stay committed to a story for over half a century.
How to Experience the Film Today
If you’re going to watch A Man and a Woman for the first time, don't watch it on a tiny phone screen while you're distracted. You’ll miss the textures. The grain of the film is part of the story.
- Find the Remastered Version: The 4K restoration done for the 50th anniversary is stunning. It preserves those weird color shifts perfectly.
- Listen to the Lyrics: If you don’t speak French, look up the translation for "Samba Saravah." It’s actually a deep meditation on the relationship between sadness and art.
- Check Out the Sequel: After you watch the 1966 original, skip the 1986 version (honestly, it's not great) and go straight to The Best Years of a Life. It uses footage from the original as "memories," and it will make you weep.
- Research the Monte Carlo Rally: To really appreciate the driving scenes, look up the 1965/66 Monte Carlo Rally. Lelouch actually filmed during the live event, which is why the tension feels so real.
The biggest takeaway from this film is that simplicity wins. You don't need a massive plot. You don't need explosions—well, maybe one car crash. You just need two people, a great song, and a fast car. It sounds like a cliché now, but that’s only because Lelouch did it first and did it best.
Next Steps for Film Lovers
To truly appreciate the "Lelouch style," look into the French New Wave's move toward handheld cameras. While Lelouch wasn't always accepted by the "Cahiers du Cinéma" crowd (the hardcore snobs like Godard), his use of the lightweight Eclair Caméflex camera allowed him to shoot inside the Mustang and on the move, creating the "fly on the wall" feeling that defines the film. Exploring the technical evolution of 1960s camera equipment offers a deeper understanding of why this movie looks so different from anything that came before it. Additionally, tracking the influence of this film on modern directors like Damien Chazelle or Wes Anderson reveals just how much of our current visual language started on that beach in Deauville.