François Truffaut’s celebrated study of amour fou contains so many deliriously intense moments that it may leave you unfit for the real world. And, thanks to a new print, it looks bolder than ever.

The plot couldn’t be simpler. Austrian Jules (Oskar Werner) and French Jim (Henri Serre) meet in Paris in 1912, fall in love (in a platonic sense), then meet a woman, Catherine (Jeanne Moreau) and almost but not quite manage to share her.

The ecstasy is in the details. By the end, you’ll want every woman to be able to sing like Moreau, expect all faces to be able to freeze, mid-expression, and refuse to go on riverside walks unless they end in a huge splash.

Almost 50 years on, Catherine and Jules remain extraordinary characters. She’s a frustrated Renaissance woman, a restless genius whose greatest talent — ultimately — is an ability to cause pain. He’s a sensitive doormat, whose dependence on her has a nauseating quality all of its own.

If there’s a weak link, it’s Jim, precisely because he is so strong. Tall, dark and handsome, he’s a symbol of the rational romantic artist rather than a sinewy human being.

Truffaut’s drama takes a while to get going; at times, especially towards the end, it can feel like a peerlessly-directed Brazilian soap. Thankfully, Moreau’s gritty, witty performance stops Catherine from becoming larger-than-life. Catherine is a fantasist, not a fantasy figure.

True, not everyone will be infected by the excitement of Truffaut’s classic. There will be those who, faced with the life-hungry, child-hungry Catherine, would prescribe Prozac and/or several treatments of IVF. It’s their loss.