This time round, I wanted to appeal to film buffs and to them alone, even if that meant fazing many of those who loved Les 400 coups. In the end, Le Pianiste may faze everyone, but too bad.

François Truffaut, Le cinéma selon François Truffaut, collected writings edited by Anne Gillain, Flammarion, 1990

Coming out of my second viewing of Tirez sur le pianiste, and still literally bewitched by its charm, it suddenly dawned on me that the film demonstrates brilliantly the pre-eminence of subject matter over plot development. I doubt I could summarise the story, but it was clear that François Truffaut had captured timidity on film as no one had done before.
Truffaut’s humility concerning the structure of his second film follows the same reasoning as in classical art according to Gide: more lies under the surface than beyond it. Seeking out the mundane first and foremost precisely as less, and finding maximum freedom within external constraint. Tirez sur le pianiste is the most thoroughly captivating film I have seen for many years. Does that mean that it’s impossible to guess the reason why? The freedom of the storytelling, clearly. Something of a paradox in a police story… In Tirez sur le pianiste, I feel that the plot progression – though still apparent – takes second place to the development of the characters and their relationships. The transformation of those – enemies, killers – who inflict tragedy on our delectable heroes into truly grotesque, clownish figures is not merely incidental… The quality of the acting, of course. The digressions, false starts and repercussions of timidity will henceforth bear the hallmark of Aznavour.
I find it remarkable to see such synchronicity between the agent and his intention, such intelligence in the character being portrayed, combined with the more solid instinct of the actor…
Finally, charm and kindness. I believe these are the qualities of the director. Which is odd given the long-standing reputation that Truffaut carved out for himself in the film business, and the smashed windows along the way. Odd, but not absurd, because it’s no surprise that a reticent yet rigorous love of cinema should be mistaken for malice and belligerence. Strangely enough, cinema has a robust moral code; it is blindingly obvious who the author is, whichever way you look at it. This is how it seems to me.

Pierre Kast, “Cahiers du Cinéma”, no. 115, January 1961