On the CinemaScope screen of the Olympia at Tours, [it] seemed to me an Olympian film, of matchess gravity. . . . A film like this discourages interpretation. It makes a formidable impression (in the Latin sense of the word). Its slowness is merely apparent, like the helix turning at a thousand revolutions a minute. Each shot of Le Chant du Styrène, Alain Resnais's fantastic farewell to the short film, has the cadence of a Bossuet sentence. To speak ill of it is a crime of lese-majesty.