Once past the excessive, graphic nudity, or perhaps because of it, Bertolucci fashions a jarring glimpse of three fascinating young people against the backdrop of the 1968 French General Strike, which nearly toppled the government. For the three principals, hedonism, narcissism, and intoxication seem to dominate against what appear as lightly held political beliefs - socialism, love, compassion, tolerance. For example, siblings Theo and Isabelle sleep together naked, their sculpted bodies entwined. The All-American Matthew (well played by Michael Pitt) comes upon them sleeping nude (and slowly grows to love them), gathering some deeper yet perplexing knowledge. This learning process for Matthew weaves its way throughout the film: a likable youth from San Diego doing his best to slip into the idiosyncratic lives of these very French '60s eccentrics and their almost invisible, '60s uptight parents.Bertolucci abruptly intercuts continuously with memorable past film scenes: for example, Garbo's soulful eyes laughing at Gilbert's insipid love from "Queen Christina." There are many of these lovely, thoughtful old film scenes that weld the humanity of these three characters to that of past lovers and haters. I found myself virtually loathing the insouciance of Theo and Isabelle, their adolescent adoration of things kitsch, such as Delacroix's 'Liberty Leading the People" with Liberty's face that of Marilyn Monroe. All this while exchanging drunk, violent words over politics, cinema and ragout when true fighters faced the formidable barricades in the streets of Paris.But this is a film, I think, that one must settle into. Much of the first half appears about nothing much, perhaps a light titillating comedy. Slowly, we understand it is not that at all. The nudity, arguments, sex, politics, brilliant film cuts, and memorable period scoring give satisfaction to those of us 'lucky' enough to have lived through that tumultuous time. Perhaps younger, less authoritarian generations will view it with more intuition than we boomers. One of the director's realized intentions was to impart with his typical lyricism an inner realization of why love, even silly vacuous sex, is so much preferable to war (the General Strike and Vietnam, here). The ending is doubly startling. But by then, the parts have become the whole, the trivial vital. The significant beauty of this film lies in the director's wise, consummate vision. Well worth seeing. (For an amazingly contrasting view of the same period, see "Fog of War").