Fifteen minutes into this, many audiences (even art-house ones) could be forgiven for taking the title literally and heading for the door.

For the first quarter-of-an-hour we have to watch, nay endure, what appears to be a Parisian am-dram group struggling through Eugene Ionescu's Exit The King.

It's only when the cast have thankfully exited the stage that we learn that the star Gilbert Valence (Piccoli) - a respected French actor - has suffered an appalling tragedy.

His trusted agent and friend, Georges (Chappey), informs him his wife, daughter and son-in-law have been killed in a road accident, leaving him alone, except for his beloved grandson.

We then join the bereaved actor a few months down the line, getting on with the trivialities of life. Outwardly, he appears to be taking the loss well, using his vocation to get through life "living in other people's shoes", as he puts it.

However, he cannot walk down a street without reliving memories of his wife, sparked by a picture or even a dress in a shop window. The regimented pattern of his life - the same cafe every morning - punctuated by challenging work in the theatre keep the demons at bay.

But the world is changing - there are increasing calls for what he regards as pornographic work and a callous mugging doesn't help. When he is offered a part in a film adaptation of Ulysses it appears the ideal role to accept... but is he in a position to take it on?

Slow-moving almost to the point of boredom, it is Piccoli's magisterial performance as the dignified, moral actor which propels this strangely moving film. Such is his charisma that scenes which overstay their welcome (particularly the live theatre longeurs) are redeemed by his presence.

Veteran Portuguese director de Oliveira (he's pushing 96) lets the scenes unfold without feeling the need to hurry - but that could be a drawback for many modern audiences.

Tim Evans