Renais, at the end, produces a theory by which he links the two men. Unconvincing. I found the whole thing a bore.

Stavisky has been made as if vitality would be a sin against art. The intricate plot provided by the screenwriter, Jorge Semprun, seems purposeless, except for back and forth movement that he wants in the cutting.

A deceptively ruminative entertainment with a fizzy melancholy, and awash in sensory pleasures.

Rarely are style and content so consciously, and thoroughly, mixed. And rarely does a film so sparkle with dreams of decades past.