Most vicious movie ever
Her beauty soars maybe (C. Cardinal), but there is no love. There isn't even hate, there is a meaningless, arbitrary anger just as stylist element, with no character arc, no intention (if not spoiling audience's mood), no journey to something. And eroticism without love is just an amputation.
At this time, neorealism was gone and some false mainstream romanticism took over (cf. Zurlini, Bolognini, De Sica).
M. Antonioni did the same pretentious work in l'Avventura, this bourgeois neurotic chanson about un-love, where positive feelings haven't a chance, beauty is condemned just for nothing.
In a masterpiece like Losey's Accident 1967 we find the same dark ambiance, but with more decency.