Lord Clark –  “of Civilisation”, as he was nicknamed, not necessarily affectionately – presented the 13 episodes of the eponymous series commissioned by David Attenborough for BBC Two in 1969; it was subtitled “A Personal View”, and encompassed only Western Europe (from which even Spain was excluded).

Watching what remains of Henri-Georges Clouzot’s Inferno (L’Enfer) serves to remind us just how good his earlier work was. Inferno marked the beginning of the end, its shambolic production beginning Clouzot’s descent into obscurity.

You can't have too much Dvořák in a single evening, at least not when the works in question operate at the highest level of volatility and melodic abundance like last night's overture, concerto and symphony.

What a gallimaufry! The polymath Picasso (1881-1973) was one of the most prolific, obsessed and best-known artists in the history; in fact, without qualification, he remains the best-known, for his genius, his mastery of so many media, his public personal life.

With Dunkirk and Darkest Hour threatening to storm the Oscars, it seems there’s suddenly plenty of mileage in portraits of the British at war.

A Woman’s Life first premiered at the 2016 Venice International Film Festival, alongside the likes of La La Land, Arrival and Jackie. Though it’s taken longer to get to our shores than its contemporaries, the film feels fresh and relevant. This immensely personal character study is at times dense, but subtly effective.

As a prime example of high-end Gallic art-pop, Triomphe pushes the right buttons. The mid-tempo opening cut “Senga” sets the tone. A motorik rhythm and a shuffling counterpoint are complemented by bubbling bass guitar, insistent single note guitar lines and subtle keyboard stabs. The French-language vocal line is hooky, minor key and delivered in close-miked yet distant voice. It exudes class. Krautrock and Air are in there. A smidge of Stereolab too. As is – with the way the song builds and builds – a suggestion of stadium-rock dynamics.

It’s the same throughout Triomphe, where a sense of reflectiveness and resignation in the melody lines is teamed with finely tuned instrumental arrangements. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the descending structure, Mogadon-paced drums and brooding atmosphere of “Trophée” evoke Serge Gainsbourg's Histoire de Melody Nelson. The opening bars of “Sépares” nod to Lee Hazlewood. Triomphe is a knowing album.

While also thoroughly agreeable, Triomphe – issued in the UK exactly a year after its French release – is overly deliberate and would have benefitted from some surprises. When Algerian-sounding wind instruments arrive on sixth track “La femme du kioske sur l’eau” it’s as if they were plucked from a style sheet rather than providing evidence of spontaneity.

La Féline used to be a trio but now, for the third album under the name, it is the vehicle of Agnès Gayraud alone. A doctor of philosophy and music journalist, she writes for the French newspaper Libération, has a lengthy academic bibliography and has lectured at California's Stanford University.

In 2016 she published an academic paper titled Are There Any Skills Required to Listen to Pop Music? A crux issue for the article was getting to grips with the concept of “structural listening”. Whether or not the album is listened to “structurally” and despite the distracting meticulousness, Triomphe and its terrific highlight “Sépares” mark Gayraud as a pop auteur worth watching.

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Overleaf: Watch the video for “Sépares” from La Féline’s Triomphe