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- In a small town in post-World-War-II France, an unhappy sixteen-year-old (Janine Castang) tries to escape her dreary situation by any means at her disposal. Three successive friends (Michel Davenne, a married lover; Raoul, a fellow thief; Mauricette Dargelos, a photographer and fellow prisoner) help her learn from her mistakes.
- At her son's funeral, Solange, a lawyer famous for losing hopeless cases, agrees to defend René, her son's age, accused of murdering his wealthy aunt, Jeanne, who's part of the Franco-Belgian Psychoanalytic Society, known for odd views and methods. She reads Jeanne's journal, documenting René's criminal tendencies. Solange believes him innocent, manipulated into the murder or framed. Odd psychiatrists turn up, including Georges Didier, who runs FBPS, and his rival, Christian, who believes crime originates in a story's taking hold of a person. After the verdict, René and Solange's relationship changes, Georges and his society commit a bizarre act, and the police record Solange's story.
- In 1996, Marcello Mastroianni talks about life as an actor. It's an anecdotal and philosophical memoir, moving from topic to topic, fully conscious of a man "of a certain age" looking back. He tells stories about Fellini and De Sica's direction, of using irony in performances, of constantly working (an actor tries to find himself in characters). He's diffident about prizes, celebrates Rome and Paris, salutes Naples and its people. He answers the question, why make bad films; recalls his father and grandfather, carpenters, his mother, deaf in her old age, and his brother, a film editor; he's modest about his looks. In repose, time's swift passage holds Mastroianni inward gaze.
- Muriel lies. She lies to her friends, to her husband, to her son. She has a lover. A very discreet lover, whom she seldom confides in. Is she afraid she may lie to him too? This is a story: nothing but lies. No major crimes, no real betrayals. Like a garden under the moonlight, all to herself. As if this secret bore the most precious gift. These transitions, this melting of two days, two worlds, where she can invent her own world. As if she were more in love with her love than with her lover... Muriel lies. But she begins to realize that these lies bring confusion and that she wants more than just that. She wants traces, pictures. She wants proof to put reality and lies back into place. And when she gets this proof she shows it to her husband, whom she still loves despite his unfaithfulness. Not as a confession but as a burning hot gift.
