Elevator To the Gallows

I go onto dating sites from time to time, and somewhere in each profile is a space for the prospective date to sum up what they're looking for in a mate. This scene would encapsulate it for me. a gorgeous fucked-up woman, talking to herself as she walks the Paris boulevards looking for her equally fucked-up boyfriend. She's obsessive and in a world all her own, oblivious to even the traffic as she crosses a major boulevard. The Miles Davis score is the stuff of interior brooding with a mixture of sadness, and meditative absorption. The camera work by Henri Decae is gorgeous, as usual. I'm reminded of Gordon Willis' black and white cityscape cinematography in Woody Allen's Manhattan 20 years later.
But mostly it's the presence Jeanne Moreau allows us to see inside her character. Her mind seems filled with a druggy longing and an emotional carelessness that reflects the dangerous love which romantics often turn into tragedy. Christ but I wish she was looking for me. I'd wear a suit, I'd put on cologne, I'd smoke cigarettes, I'd get my teeth fixed.