About thirty minutes into this austere but humane 1963 drama written and directed by Louis Malle (“Atlantic City, “Au Revoir Les Enfants“), protagonist Alain LeRoy (Maurice Ronet) calmly examines his military issue pistol and decides that the next day will be his last. Separated from his American wife, he has spent the prior evening making love to a visiting friend, but he finds little joy in it. Afterwards, Alain returns to the cozy sanitarium where he has been undergoing a primitive but so-far successful treatment for alcoholism, which is not his worst problem. He decides to make one last visit to Paris. Accompanied by the haunting (but, through no fault of Malle’s, now over-familiar) strains of composer Eric Satie, he spends his day with some old flames and carousing buddies, including nouvelle vogue It-woman Jeanne Moreau (“Jules and Jim”) as a lively dissipated painter. It becomes clear that many people love Alain, but as he keeps telling us, he is sure that he can’t quite feel or return that love. Maybe he expects too much. Or perhaps, a good pal suggests, he’s simply too terrified and selfish to get on with the business of growing up. In any case, finding a reason to make the effort seems impossible. This visually perfect, superbly acted black-and-white adaptation of a novel by Pierre Drieu La Rochelle clearly depicts depression in a way that those who’ve seen it will recognize, possibly much too accurately for many. Still, truth really can be beauty, and “The Fire Within” is bone-deep beautiful.
