L'amour en fuite (Love on the Run)

The lighter side of romantic inhibition comically elaborates (through flashback) in Truffaut's L'amour en fuite (Love on the Run).

Antoine (Jean-Pierre Léaud) once again finds himself pursuing the irresistible shortly following his divorce after love interest Sabine (Dororthée) punishes him. 

Driven by genuine liberated invention, his expositions know no bounds, and proceed posthaste wholeheartedly, zephyristic zounds. 

I suppose this goes without saying if you're familiar with the narrative thread, which becomes much more endearing with each instalment frisked and fled.

Indomitable infatuation regal flush disposed curiosity, multivariable assumed inconstant freeform precious jocose romance.

In L'amour en fuite so prone to accident he rediscovers love lost forgotten, who's just purchased the sultry novel he's been writing from film to film.

He takes inquisitive note and seeks rapprochement upon a train, where the details of his book encounter critical acclaim.

He generates appeal beholden flourishes notwithstanding, but can't escape the legal shrewd exotic reprimanding.

Even though he's just incapable of remaining honest, loyal, and true, his partners still adore him unabrasive through and through.

Not to the point where they'll let him get away with it but they still can't deny their feelings, and the lack of boredom he freely generates as he ascertains impulsively.

There's no doubt that creative explanations are his supple imaginative forte, nor that if one enjoys a passionate argument he graciously accommodates.

If so much of life's caught up with routine I suppose there's excitement in experimentation, although it's by no means a general rule but how else to explain the reality?

I'm uncertain as to how feminists or Me Too would respond to the charming Antoine, is he to be condemned for his indiscretions or upheld through honest light?

His inexhaustible enthusiasm demonstrates a thorough love of women, and he isn't forceful or mean or brutal, he's rather quite innocent, inquisitive, enamoured. 

Rascally. 

Is such genuine affection preferable at times to duty and is this why feminists don't condemn him (in fiction), or has Truffaut simply gotten away with it scandalous film after scandalous film?

Antoine certainly means well as he honestly follows his instinct, and doesn't lack ideal sincerity in his explorations of l'amour.

Perhaps just a childish fantasy exaggerating infidelity, to lighten the austere mood that proliferates at times?

Either way it's a funny ending to a story that went way too far.

Not as much depth as Domicile conjugal.

But still traditionally entertaining.