ade in occupied France under the long noses of the Nazis in the last year of World War II, this story about the convergence of theater, crime and sex in 1830s Paris can be seen as an act of subversion, of artistic heroism. But it needs no making-of back story for inclusion here. At 3hr. 9min. the film is an epic romance viewed through an ironic prism. Baptiste the ethereal mime (Jean-Louis Barrault), Garance the worldly-wise courtesan (Arletty) and a dozen other scapegraces and victims are creatures with the fullness and ambiguity of a Balzac novel, thanks to Jacques Prévert, the poet and screenwriter who more than anyone shaped French cinema in one of its richest periods. A love story where soulmates are rarely matched, Les Enfants expresses the holy ache of poignance. Is marriage the repository of true love? "Oh," declares Baptiste, "if everyone who was married was in love, the earth would shine like the sun."—R.C.