Finally, Truffaut's fourth masterpiece is here, and this one seems to be carrying his unique voice, almost devoid of all influences, like he did with his debut.

The opening segment presents an utopian setting, maybe an imagined funeral of the protagonist. It is obvious who died, as a parade of women arrive in their cars, some amused, some surprised, a couple of them mournful, throwing roses and dirt to the tomb of this... ummm...

Womanizer? Don Juan? Addict?

Let's find out in the following 118 minutes.

What follows is a marvelous comedy full of romance, which is certainly not the same as a romantic comedy. A man seeks women, often resorting to shocking means just to make a female acquaintance.…

Two-hours of skirt-chasing mania, where the autobiographical threads never really bite in the way the best self-damning critiques do. I'm looking at you Fellini. I'm looking to CITY OF WOMEN (1980), which for me still reigns as the gold standard for the artist turned inward, looking back on earlier work, earlier misogyny, and weaving it into the ultimate self-defeating apologia pro vita sua. Truffaut doesn't have the carnival mindset to Fellini-ize this confession, he's actually much closer to Woody Allen's deconstruction of Harry, only lacking the wit and plea for understanding.

It's a guilt-ridden tale that links womanizing with bibliophilia, a story about a libertine who chases tail to fill a deep interior hole, and who ultimately turns to memoir…

Film as unrelenting auto-critique. This is an extension of Truffaut's love affair with Hitchcock, which began cinematically with The Soft Skin and peaked with The Bride Wore Black — yet The Man Who Loved Women is a more integrated, more casual, and more quintessentially Truffautian yarn than either of those two great works. The pulse of Hitchcock is always here in the half-doting, half-sinister close-ups of gams, eyes, and woman's walk cycles, in the incessant centering of the straight man's gaze — but Truffaut has found a subject that demands a more naturalistic approach, one in which we never see the whirligigs of technique (at their best, those whirligigs were deployed with jangling verve in Shoot the Piano Player, but…

J’avais peur de trop grincer des dents en le revoyant, mais pas tant que ça. Oh, il y a de quoi faire un drinking game avec toutes les fois où les limites sont franchies « boooouuuundaires ! (Take a shot) », mais Bertrand le séducteur est déjà montré comme un dinosaure, ou un enfant qui a beaucoup à apprendre. À cet égard, le dialogue avec son éditrice est assez contemporain (il est toutefois décourageant de constater que l’evolution des mœurs, anticipée ici en 1977, peine encore à arriver). Il y a des scènes très émouvantes qui, sans justifier le comportement « cavaleur » de Bertrand, l’expliquent. Notamment la scène avec sa mère, qui démontre qu’elle aussi n’avait pas non plus…

He really did, you know.

An interesting if not always appealing or satisfying comedy-drama about a man whose every move is dictated by his erotic attraction to women. Just a man, then.

It's difficult to see what the women see in crumpled, grouchy, 80-a-day man, Charles Denner, but Truffaut's sense of irony and imagination creates moments of humour and pathos, there's a neat narrative gimmick at one point that allows characters to start reviewing the film – without breaking the fourth wall! – and Leslie Caron appears for one excellent scene near the end.

It's also refreshing to find that the central character's undoubted chauvinism in the early chapters isn't necessarily shared by the movie, nor indeed by the publisher…

Two decades before the term "sexual addiction" became fodder for mainstream pop culture exploitation, French director François Truffaut turned in this uncommonly delicate, painfully amusing, and as of yet unequalled study of the now-overexposed malady. Charles Denner stars as Bertrand, a man who falls in love, if only briefly, with nearly every woman he meets. Aware of, but still captive to, his obsessions, Bertrand pours all of his relevant recollections into a memoir, revelling in each affair, reeling from the disappointment of every break-up, and revealing the formative relationships that made him a man suffering from the loneliness of chronic romance.

Even in the hands of a careful auteur like Truffaut, it seems probable that a frank, semi-comic look at…

Reading the plot of this and seeing some reviews of people calling it misogynistic I didn't know what to expect but in its own way this is quite a sweet film for I think Bertrand isn't a malicious character but someone who is troubled and this story explores his relationship with women which is how the experiences of his childhood and life manifest themselves. His childhood is definitely reminiscent of Truffaut's prior concerns with Antoine Doinel and Pocket Money in which we find children with neglectful parents or certainly those with attitudes which do not engender good adult relationships. Even Bertrand's noisy factory job seems reminiscent of how Truffaut perceives the workplace, I am sure he has Doinel in a…

1977 drehte Francois Truffaut "Der Mann der die Frauen liebte", mit Charles Denner und vielen, vielen Frauen, darunter Brigitte Fossey, Leslie Caron und Nathalie Baye.

Einer meiner liebsten Truffaut Filme, und aus seinen 70ern DER liebste. Story: Bertrand (Denner) ist, wie er sich spaeter selbst bezeichnen wird, ein Schuerzenjaeger, er liebt die One Night Stands, und wenns zu einer Beziehung kommen sollte, dann will er sie so kurz wie moeglich halten. Er ist kein Playboy, nein, und auch kein geloester Draufgaenger, er ist ein sehr ernster, zurueckhaltender Typ der nicht einen einzigen maennlichen Bekannten hat. Er scheint besessen von Frauenbeinen, sagt aber auch das die Gesellschaft von Frauen einfach als angenehm empfindet. Es geht ihm nicht nur um Sex, sondern…