Occasionally, a movie is made in which the invisible director is the most important element. Such, happily, is the case with "The 400 Blows." The camera replaces much of the dialogue, elaborating, where words are inadequate, the emotional content of the script. It is this visual characterization that lifts "The 400 Blows" above its fairly familiar story of misunderstood youth and makes it a strikingly beautiful and affecting motion picture.

Director Francois Truffaut, unlike Ingmar Bergman, does not resort to the surrealistic and the bizarre in emphasizing his meaning. The unfortunate is treated with naive gentleness and the psychological and symbolic intricacies that one comes to expect in director-dominated films is notably absent. Pictorial eloquence is achieved through simplicity and realism rather than stagey effects.

In telling his story of a 12-year-old boy unwanted at home and in trouble at school, Truffaut has capitalized on the youthful exuberance and curiosity of his protagonist. Young Antoine Doinel is often in flight and the main quality of the film is one of swirling motion. Streets, houses, neon signs, and country landscapes are constantly whizzing by in blurred succession. The camera only once focuses on the runner directly--in his last escape from a Correction Institution--otherwise, the viewer is absorbed in this kaleidoscopic world of the breathless fugitive.

Everything is handled with meticulous regard for detail. In one excellent scene, the hero, accompanied by his faithful friend, attends a puppet show in the Tuilleries. The faces of the young audience are pictured, animated by enthusiastic belief in the puppets--while the two friends debate the different methods of pawning stolen goods. The contrast between the happy naivete of the innocents and the alarming worldliness of the fugitives is vividly rendered through the captivating portraits of enchanted children.

The scenes in the Doinel home are illuminated through the technique of off-camera dialogue. The parents argue about their son while he lies in bed trying to fall asleep, and through his expression, Antoine confides to the audience feelings he cannot communicate to his parents. Again and again, the viewer gains such confidences of the children and comes to regard the adult world through their eyes.

Truffaut's directorial talent is most expressive in the frequent silent sequences. The camera captures the alternating anxiety and joy of the hero through his wordless activity--whether bounding eagerly up a flight of stairs or tearfully staring through the bars of a paddy-wagon. These effects are heightened by the perceptive photography of Henri Decae and the delightful score of Jean Constantin.

As the young boy, Jean-Pierre Leaud manages to steal the show from his older and more experienced fellow actors. His transformation from a mischievous, carefree imp to a lonely but childishly appealing outcast is convincingly portrayed, and his portrait of the sensitively curious, misguided child is remarkably well sustained. The other performances, especially those of Claire Maurier and Albert Remy as the blundering parents, are appropriately less delicate and in equally perfect taste.

The plight of Antoine Doinel could easily lend itself to appalling pathos, but Truffaut (who also wrote the screenplay) has scrupulously avoided this danger. Child-like comic effects predominate in many scenes, particularly those without adults; and realizing that in spite of his trials Dolnel can still behave like a happy and naive little boy, the viewer is made acutely aware of the wide gulf between the child and the adult. The film thus evokes a sense of frustration rather than pity.

"The 400 Blows" is a fine example of pictorial art. Its faults are too minor to be included here, and the elements of social criticism are, to me, equally unimportant. The motion picture has its own peculiar acsthetic attributes and, by exploring them, Truffaut has directed a tender and appealing film.