La dame dans l'auto avec des lunettes et un fusil

Secretary at a Paris fashion agency borrows her boss's car for a weekend drive down the Mediterranean coast, but her lighthearted holiday is fraught with trouble after she continually runs into complete strangers who appear to know her. U.S.-French co-production adapted by Sébastien Japrisot from his novel, with assistance from director Anatole Litvak, is beautifully designed and mounted, with attractive photography by Claude Renoir in mod-popping shades. Samantha Eggar has never been better (nor lovelier) than she is here, confusedly finding herself in turbulent situations yet determined to figure out what's really going on. Japrisot and Litvak lay on the paranoia undercurrent fairly thickly, though they also play fair with the viewer and give us a journey well-wrought with engrossing entanglements. It's also one of the chicest mysteries to mark the end of the 1960s, with gorgeous locales, cars and costumes to hold the attention whenever the script gets too chatty. **1/2 from ****

Petula Clark's song fits like a nut in the wall, but what's more, the movie is missed from head to tail. I had great expectations from Samantha Eggar and Oliver Reed, two actors which I love very much. Both they try their best but the result is bad. Stéphane Audran is OK, as usual, in the role of wicked woman. I also had great expectations from Anatole Litvak, who made some very good movies like "The Night of the Generals" and "Goodbye Again". But this screening after Sébastien Japrisot it's a great disappointment. 3 stars, one for Eggar, one for Reed and one for Audran.

Contrary to what some said here earlier, the novels by Sebastien Japrisot are gripping and full of atmosphere. There is no way that Dany Lang's trip to Marseille can be transferred to the States. If you didn't like the movie too much - like me - try to get a copy of the book, so you can enjoy the story fully. Japrisot's novels are usually characterized by a carefully constructed claustrophobic atmosphere and a precise resolution of all the details at the end. It may well be impossible to do them justice in movies that are less than four hours long.

Unrealistic? Probably, but I don't read a novel or watch a movie for a reality check - the News give me too much of that already. A difficult read it is, but so rewarding. By the same author: One Deadly Summer, Trap for Cinderella, The Sleeping Car Murders. To me, the Lady in the Car was the best.

This is okay and Samantha Eggar very good but is just not sinister enough. My print was not a very good one which didn't help but I didn't feel particularly engaged early on and although for me it brightened up when John McEnry comes in, his character is too enigmatic to seriously help one's involvement in trying to work out just what the story is. The final denouement and cumbersome and involved flashback details as outlined by Oliver Reed did not annoy me as it has some (I've watched many a giallo where the 'explanation' is more ludicrous than the earlier tale) indeed it struck me as more interesting. There just wasn't enough actually happening in the bulk of the film for one to get one's teeth into. I suppose in some giallo these gaps would be filled with rising bosoms and falling dresses but here alas were left with the best of efforts by Ms Eggar, not particularly well dressed at all.

Samantha Eggar goes to employer Oliver Reed's home to do some work before he flies off with his wife, Stephane Audran, for a vacation. She drops the couple off at the airport, with instructions to drive the big Mercury convertible back to the office. But she has never handled a car like this, and takes a wrong turn. She finds herself traveling south, and decides to travel down to the Cote D'Azur. But odd things keep happening, like John McEnery, who plops himself into her car and charms her into sleeping with her, all the people who insist that she's been been there the day before, traveling to Paris. When a corpse turns up suddenly in the trunk with a rifle, things shift from bizarre to deadly.

Anatole Litvak's last movie is a stylish thriller, well served by the cast and with lots of shots to show off the scenery thanks to DP Claude Renoir. The long monologue that explains what was going on is, I suppose, a necessity, if a trifle long-winded. It's a good ending to a long career for Litvak, who studied theater in his native Ukraine ad Russia, made films in Germany, France, and America, and died in 1974 at the age of 72.