Filipe Furtado’s review published on Letterboxd:
Impressionist brushes about loving and hating far too much. A snapshot that feels true to both teenage and family life. Everyone always talk about the father return, for the good reason that it is one of the greatest scenes ever put on film and a masterclass in blocking and finding ways to express how power performs both in society and filmmaking, but those final cuts from Bonnaire in the plane to Pialat alone in the bus then covered in darkness to Bonnaire's starting anew always destroys me. Of course, A Nos Amours would be a masterpiece even if it just functions as a documentary about a teenage performer finding out she was really good in this whole acting thing and not only is Bonnaire extraordinary here but there's so many revelatory moments that are little more than Pialat just pulling back and allowing her to be, but I'm glad the film is so much more.
In a separate note, if you know a lot about post New Wave Franch cinema there's something hilarious about knowing the asshole brother is based on Claude Berri. .