Robert Bresson's truly, not falsely, pious treatment of the Georges Bernanos novel about a dying village priest (the sad-faced yet childish Claude Laydu) whose parishioners don't understand him. It occupies the most advantageous position in Bresson's output, the spot where his minimalist style has already been fully refined but not yet overrefined to the point where it's harder and harder to keep on following him without either screaming or giggling. (1950) — Duncan Shepherd
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