An old French film (1959) directed by Robert Bresson who does not believe in actor's emoting. He is a devout Catholic who refers to his actors (lay people) as models. He instructs them to just read lines and not emote at all. They follow his direction and the result is flat, flatter, flattest. All of this is no explanation for my desire to pull my hair out while watching this film. I would have given anything for Pacino to have played the pickpocket with a NY accent (Italian or Puerto Rican). As you may deduce this film was not a favorite of mine. Abe thought it was "interesting." Night y'all.
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