Alain Delon is near his best as the eponymous, rather odious, art dealer quite happily fleecing the terrified Jewish community of their precious possessions at cut race prices as they make preparations to try and flee the Nazi occupation of Paris. It's when one such victim is leaving his elegant apartment one day that "Klein" notices a Jewish newspaper at his door - with his name on it! He goes to the police to make it clear that he is not the "Robert Klein" on the address, but do they believe him? Do they think that perhaps he is trying to pull the wool over their eyes too? He concludes that the only way he can be certain is to track down the real doppelgänger before he ends up suffering the same dispossession and deportation as those he had thus far all too readily exploited. One can never have enough of Jeanne Moreau and her role as the enigmatic "Florence" is a little undercooked here, but as the rest of this complex thriller builds up steam we see Joseph Losey using Delon, and our own appreciation of just how terrifying it must have been for most during the occupation let alone the Jewish population, as weapons to potently reveal that terror and to ultimately maybe even humanise - as well as, perhaps, ridicule - this most venal and shallow of men. Is he now the hunted? Can he escape with his life? The more he thinks he has swum away from danger, the more the maelstrom seems to embrace him - and that catch 22 scenario is enthralling to watch play out here. It's cleverly photographed with a score that augments our own - and his - sense of increasing peril and frustration and though it's perhaps just a little slow at the start, it turns into a cracker.

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