...and if you know the second half of the couplet begun in the above title, you ought to be ashamed of yourself (okay, e-mail me if you really, really need to know what it is. You perve.)

Anyway, for those of you keeping score, I am returned, safe and sound, from a truly magical week in Paris, and in retrospect it occurs to me that my recent coverage of the Franck Dubosc comedy Cineman -- which opened at L'Enfer Octoplexes all over France yesterday to (one presumes) rapturous reviews -- may have been unnecessarily dismissive of the French contribution to the art of movie-making in general.

Allow me, then, to recommend one of the truly worthwhile Gallic films of the young century, one that you may have perhaps missed. I refer, of course, to director Patrice Leconte's 2000 period piece heartbreaker The Widow of Saint-Pierre, starring the ever-luminous Juliette Binoche

The plot:

Madame La (Binoche) is the wife of a French military commandant (Daniel Auteuil) stuck in a remote French colony on the Canadian coastal island of St. Pierre in 1850. Life there is uneventful until the night a sailor murders a fisherman in a senseless, drunken brawl. The killer, Neel Auguste (Yugoslav director Emil Kusturica, who only looks like he fronted Canned Heat at the first Woodstock), is immediately remorseful, and Madame La begins performing little acts of kindness on his behalf. Eventually, Auguste returns her compassion by doing his own good turns for nearly everyone who lives on the island. In the process, he becomes a beloved figure to all but the bureaucrats awaiting the arrival of a guillotine (a "widow," in old French slang), which will allow them to get rid of the increasingly troublesome do-goodnik.

Obviously, there are all sorts of interesting moral questions raised amidst Leconte's gorgeous rendering of the Northern scenery. Here's the trailer to give you an idea.

Seriously, this is a really terrific little film -- reviewing it at the time, I think I said something along the lines of if it doesn't make you cry, I probably don't want to know you -- but I would be remiss if I didn't add that there's at least one moment that is just too French for words, if you know what I mean. Specifically, the scene where -- more or less out of the blue -- Auteuil's oh-so-proper Commandant sneaks home to sniff, quite enthusiastically, his wife's nightgown (presumably to demonstrate how hot their relationship is, as if we couldn't figure that out on our own).

In any case, you can -- and most definitely should -- order the DVD of The Widow of Saint-Pierre over here immediatement.

Coming tomorrow: Adjusted gross receipts for Cineman's first two days!

I kid, I kid!!!