Waking Life could have been a major drag-Stuck Inside of Memphis With the Dorm Room Bull Sessions Again-but the line readings are strong enough, the snippets of philosophy brief enough, the protagonist's dilemma (is this real, finally?) engaging enough, and the imagery mysteriously alluring enough to carry the day. Anyway, that idle philosophizing-isn't that what the ancient Greeks get their props for?

Linklater has pulled off a work of real enchantment here, with one caveat: The talkers' interests center on the self almost exclusively. It makes for fascinating stuff, but where's the love, a.k.a. "the Other?" Maybe that's what happens when you wake.

Thank Heaven for little hoods...

Oozing savoir-faire, fairly dripping with je ne sais quoi, the most Gallic of gangster films, Bob Le Flambeur, had a brief run at the University of Miami's Bill Cosford Cinema in early December. In its newly restored 35 mm print, the film made a perfect little bonbon of an early Christmas present for local hardcore cinephiles. A precursor to the New Wave cinema of Jean-Luc Godard and Francois Truffaut that broke just a few years later, director Jean-Pierre Melville's 1955 black-and-white opus is a love letter of sorts, rich in a peculiarly French self-regard that embraces two romances. One is for the mythical Parisian underworld of Montmartre's nightclub district, the other for the fabled attitudes of the American hard-boiled detective story (as only the French could appreciate it, of course).

The eponymous hero of the film, as portrayed by actor Roger Duchesne, is the embodiment of suave: a silver-haired, trench-coated man with a past. Given to more violent pursuits in his youth ("He knocked over the Rimbaud Bank 20 years ago," one streetwise lesser hood confides to another, early in the film) Bob now makes his money at more refined cons: cards, baccarat, roulette-thus his moniker "le flambeur" (the gambler). Does pretty well at it, too, by the looks of things, cruising the streets in a then-late model, two-tone Ford convertible, bedding down at night in a bachelor pad whose view of the Paris skyline is pure travel poster.

Bob also has a heart of gold, natch, and a personal code of honor so noble it's endeared him to the police inspector whose life he once saved and who's assigned to monitor the doings of Bob's domain. Our hero may be world weary, but he's no cynic. He disses a violent neighborhood pimp, mentors an eager young gangster wannabe, and makes paternal with an attractive young lady of easy virtue new to the streets.

If Bob's interest in the latter figure gradually takes a more, um, intimate turn, just a few seconds of ingénue Isabelle Corey's screen time offers plenty of justification. The spitting image of our own Britney S. (back in her invitation-to-felony prime), Corey's bemusedly alluring smile and ripe figure-one that could sport black stockings and garter belt without the least bit of Madonna-like irony-had the French press of the day touting her as the next great international sexpot. Some major untold story underlies her stillborn career, no doubt.

Director Melville's cinematic technique tracks Bob and his cadre of charming lowlifes through the cafes and clubs of his beloved Paris with an unerring eye for the stylish, perfectly composed shot. And when Bob tires of the gambling tables and pulls together a crew for a comeback/farewell Big Score-a heist of the weekend take at the Deauville Casino-Melville lays down a long and brilliantly edited set piece of the gang's preparations for and run-through of the job, a model for later caper films.

Melville's work may have aged a bit. Contemporary viewers may find his passionate commitment to romantic artifice (Paris by Night! Good-Natured Hoods!) too...too...Amelie-ish. But movies are pretense no matter how you slice it, and Melville's jazz-y cinematic knowingness comes from a glad acceptance of that fact. South Florida's filmgoers are lucky to have the Cosford to bring lesser-known gems like Bob Le Flambeur our way.

For more information about the Cosford Cinema's line-up of indies and oldies, call
305-284-4681.The Cosford is located at the University of Miami in Coral Gables.