The price of admission is cheaper than a ticket to Paris, but you won't get a more delightful, if deadpan, tour of the city's parks, neighborhoods, monuments, art, and lived–in corners than in Rohmer's freewheeling riff on the way people meet, love, and betray each other in that city. It was his twentieth film, made at the age of 75, and shot with a mobile handheld camera. As Mick LaSalle wrote in the Chronicle, "Only the film's lyric grace betrays its origins at the hand of a veteran." The film is constructed of three bittersweet romances, each ending with a subtle soft–spoken punch in the stomach. Like the best short stories, and the best love affairs, each is a closed universe, open only for interpretation. (JB)