François Truffaut’s Les Mistons provokes Gen Z discomfort and deepens the filmmaker's responsibility—raising timeless questions about gaze, truth, adolescence, and cinematic honesty that transcend generations and societal shifts, writes Sharad Raj.

François Truffaut’s Les Mistons (1957) remains a landmark in cinematic history, raising complex questions about the male gaze, adolescence, and the evolving morality of desire and consent. As filmmaker-educators dissect the film today—especially in academic institutions like Whistling Woods International—it provokes a generational dialogue between artistic intent and contemporary sensitivity. Exploring themes of coming-of-age, suppressed emotions, and innocent obsession, the film is often misunderstood. Yet its honesty invites viewers to examine uncomfortable truths about growing up, the blurry line between admiration and objectification, and how art reflects the psyche of a time. In contextualizing Truffaut’s gaze, the discussion evolves—not ends.

François Truffaut’s 1957 masterpiece Les Mistons, a forerunner to his brilliant debut 400 Blows (1959), was recently discussed beautifully by Ms. Vandana Kumar for Just Cinema and reproduced for The Daily Eye. It is a film I also happen to teach at Whistling Woods International as a part of its Film History syllabus. The response I often get from Gen Z students of mine is that they get disturbed by what they perceive as stalking of Bernadette by the growing brats and the gaze—most certainly Truffaut’s—trying to peep underneath Bernadette’s flying skirt while also celebrating her as a force of nature. Most times, the majority does not enjoy this, and here comes the responsibility of a filmmaker-teacher. So, if there is “Shikwa” (complaint), then that complaint needs to be answered (“Jawab-e-Shikwa”), to borrow from the great Allama Iqbal’s epic poems.  

Art, Gaze, and the Uncomfortable Truth

If seeking truth is the purpose of art, then nuance and complexity cannot be far behind. And truth is ugly and uncomfortable. It disturbs the settled and settles the disturbed, for it mirrors us in many ways. With all the talk about gaze, somewhere the truth has been compromised.

Truffaut’s gaze in Les Mistons is not vulgar or obscene—it is just a gaze that is true. No heterosexual man can deny that while growing up, the mere scent of a girl would drive him nuts. I remember those bus rides to school when a mere touch from the Loretto Convent girls would be enough to last us a week! And if by any chance of fate, it was her knee emerging out of her school tunic that touched our knee—and if she did not move it away—then it was bliss, the closest one got to nirvana in those growing years. We imagined an affair was on if it happened on two consecutive days. It is a truth we have all lived, at least of my generation. Anyone denying it is lying. We all had our own Bernadettes and cried foul when their lovers took them away, who we always thought were undeserving. Sleepless nights over female charm were common. We would lose one paradise and soon regain another. Bernadette is not one person but a concept that governs the school years of most boys.

A Cinematic Scene of Raw Honesty

It is this truth that Truffaut revisits in Les Mistons. He reaches the height of that when the boys kiss the bicycle seat of Bernadette. It is a moment that is not only passionate but exhilarating—for its honesty, its truth. A remarkable scene thus in cinema history, for its truth alone. And truth we all seek. Confronting them are a means to them—that Truffaut does in Les Mistons. The gaze exists, and it still does, and will continue to. One still looks at lovely women and admires them. Ask any man. Women too enjoy that—cannot be denied. Unfortunately, women are so conditioned that they never openly talk about their crushes, but they too have them and spend hours talking about them. This is fast changing, as more and more girls are talking about their crush—and why not? It is normal.

As we grow up, our ego mechanism needs to be in good health so that we can differentiate between admiration and bad behaviour; it should tell us where to draw a line and help us discern which forum is appropriate for a joke or a compliment. What needs to be attended to is that both parties enjoy it rather than one lecherous man. The interaction—whether verbal or non-verbal—should be mutually acceptable as grown-up adults. While we are growing up, our fears stop us as it stopped the brats—though they desperately followed Bernadette. But this same act may lose its charm if done in adulthood without permission. As filmmakers, we naturally look at bodies—of both men and women—and comment as well, for actors work with their bodies that define their character. But draw a line as well. We should.

The gaze needn’t just go—it needs to be guided and chaperoned well.