Even if you’ve never consciously watched a French New Wave film, many of the movement’s aspects may already be familiar. Basically, when you think of a French film - all gamine girls, philosophical little boys, roll-ups, shopper bicycles et al - you’re picturing one of any number of New Wave films. Light on plot but heavy on emotional substance (and, yes, style), this movement has enduring appeal.

Francois Truffaut’s 1959 Les Quatre Cents Coups (400 Blows) is perhaps the most iconic of all New Wave films. Essentially autobiographical, it tells the story of troubled youth Antoine Doinel and his struggles at home and school. Antoine, played by Jean-Pierre Leaud with such natural ease it almost seems lazy, is immensely likeable – perhaps inevitably so, given that he represents the fourteen-year old Truffaut. Particularly adorable moments: smoking and reading Balzac with his trousers rolled up, making for a scene which is almost laughably aesthetically pleasing, and arguing with his best friend Rene (Patrick Auffay) about who should carry the typewriter they stole.
Practically everything about this film is perfect. It is, from the PE teacher’s whistle blowing in time with Jean Constantin’s soundtrack to the rows of beautifully-coiffed little girls in princess coats at a puppet show, utterly charming.

Since we’re doing the semi-autobiographical thing, the Truffaut film to point you to next is Jules et Jim. The film is based on Henri-Pierre Roché’s novel of the same name, and is a romp through a life-long friendship between the two characters of the title. The action, in as much as there is any – it is not a major concern of New Wave, centres around a beautiful woman (very much a concern of New Wave), Catherine (Jeanne Moreau) and the tangle of romantic attachments that she, Jules and Jim find themselves caught up in.

In New Wave terms, Truffaut’s influence is only equalled by French-Swiss director Jean-Luc Godard. Godard’s A Bout de Souffle (Breathless) is probably his most widely celebrated work, and rightly so – it is stylistically irresistible. Jean Seberg inspires cultish devotion in her own right, however, and you absolutely must also watch her in Otto Preminger’s 1958 adaptation of Francois Sagan’s novel Bonjour Tristesse. This film is imbued with sensuality: the warmth of the French Riviera, the feel of the sea – and although events force the characters to consider something other than their physical pleasures, the audience can continue to luxuriate.

Finally, and the most serious and plot-driven of the films recommended thus far, is Louis Malle’s 1974 Lacombe Lucien. Set in wartime France, its central character, Lucien, gets caught up in the Gestapo during the German occupation after a failed attempt to get into the French Resistance. If that wasn’t ideologically baffling enough (although for what it's worth, it always seems that he just wanted to be involved in something – anything) he then gets involved with a Jewish girl. Challenging and sad but very, very beautiful, this is a true cult classic.