Lady in the Dark

By RICHARD SCHICKEL

CONFIDENTIALLY YOURS Directed by Frangois Truffaut Screenplay by Franqois Truffaut, Suzanne Schiffman and Jean Aurel

Murder, adultery, more murder; an innocent man with a guilty look about his actions; a beautiful secretary who believes in him when everyone else has him tried and convicted; a wise private eye and a less than canny police inspector. Neon lights, inky shadows, rain glistening on the dark streets, an odd moment or two devoted to tough-guy philosophizing.

Confidentially Yours looks at first like Fransis Truffaut's nostalgic tribute to that signature genre of the 1940s, the film noir. It figures, as Bogie might say in one of those murky oldies. After all, it was the French who named the style, and Truffaut is a director with an affectionate regard for the movies' past glories and a flair for paying them homage.

But he is too good a director to content himself with mere mannerism. In adapting Charles Williams' 1962 thriller The Long Saturday Night, he and his co-writers have done more than change the setting from Alabama to the Cote d'Azur.

They have also shifted the balance of the narrative. The central figure is no longer the male victim of a plot to make him take the rap for several murders. In the role of this unlucky real estate agent, Jean-Louis Trintignant must content himself with moping about and rather churlishly criticizing the brisk, brave and far-darting efforts of Barbara, his secretary, to clear his name. It is a disciplined, selfless performance.

Fanny Ardant as his office helpmate is a wonder. Leggy and sensible, with a knowing yet modest air, she puts one in mind of a grownup Nancy Drew, though Nancy was never required to pose as a prostitute in order to crack a case. Ardant literally wears the trench coat in this picture, and dangerous activities come with the wardrobe. But a subtly knowing wit betokens pleasure in the ironies of role reversal.

It is not misplaced. In the old noirs, women were mostly seen as black widow spiders, luring the wimpish male toward his doom. Placing a new, healthy vision of female strength in the old context is a beguiling notion. Not that Truffaut lingers over his cleverness in providing recall with a subtext. Mostly he is concerned with driving his vehicle along at a great pace, so that no one notices the occasional knocks in the engine or the potholes in the plot. With help from his cinematographer, Nestor Almendros, who perfectly captures the sleazy artiness of those long-ago B pictures, Truffaut runs the course with splendid panache. Confidentially Yours is a smart entertainment, especially for those with a long and indulgent movie memory. --By Richard Schickel