Lackluster love triangle tragedy in which almost nothing works. Which will an attractive, upwardly bound weathergirl choose, the old writer jackass or the young spoiled jackass? When the girl is this airheaded and indescerning about jumping into bed, I didn't even care. The rivalry that supposedly already exists between the men is just as flimsy and ineffectual. Claude Chabrol has made some provocative examinations of relationships - obsessive jealousy in L'Enfer for example - but everything staged here is extremely limp. That includes insinuations of kinky sex with the old guy and maybe his friends, nothing is ever made clear but it's just another example of the director working far too timidly with this material. The overly obvious visual metaphor to end the film makes for an appropriate ham-fisted finale to this tripe.