Frantz
Experience this film’s wavering emotions through the face of Paula Beer, the German newcomer who is superb as Anna, a grief-stricken lover, whose fiancé, the titular Frantz, has died on the front line.
Set in a small German town in 1919, this is the latest from prolific French film-maker François Ozon who, in his 17 films since 1998, has explored many themes and styles: a 
sexy thriller in Swimming Pool; a female ensemble comedy whodunnit in 8 Women; a marriage breaking down backwards in 5x2; Dynasty-style soap in Potiche; and Romain Duris in a dress in The New Girlfriend. But he’s never done anything like this beautiful, elegant period piece before and its poise and mystery make it one of his most accomplished movies.
Laying flowers on her fiancé’s grave, Anna meets a mysterious Frenchman called Adrien Rivoire (played by Saint Laurent star Pierre Niney) who has also come to pay his respects at the grave. Handsome and gently charming, Adrien eventually soothes his way into the affections of Frantz’s bereft family. The German villagers, however, bristle at the presence of an ‘enemy’ in their midst.
What follows is a beautifully controlled melodrama that’s marked with moments of real tension and shifting allegiances. Shooting in black and white, Ozon uses Beer’s face like a silent movie star, and every flicker is palpable. This is really the story of her grief and heartbreak, and Beer makes it utterly gripping to witness.
For all the excellence of both Paula Beer (she won Best Young Actress at Venice last year) and Pierre Niney, perhaps the two most striking scenes involve nationalistic songs – when Adrien wanders into an inn to witness local Germans belting out an anthem, it’s a scene somehow both prescient of and reminiscent of Bob Fosse’s musical, Cabaret. Later, when Anna travels to Paris, she is surrounded by people in a bistro singing La Marseillaise in a café to honour some soldiers, a scene which has echoes of Casablanca. There are a few Brief Encounter-style moments involving a steam train, too, all playfully yet powerfully employed by Ozon.
One can read many current parallels into a story of European mistrust and the danger of lies, and there is a lot of pain here, in the ripples of a horrid war’s aftermath. What lingers most, though, is the hope, although that, too, has the power to devastate.
I do like Ozon, and Frantz made my heart beat faster as it went along, with its occasional flourishes of colour amid the austere monochrome, the mix of German and French, and its aura of fairytale strangeness. But mostly why it works so well is how it exhibits the director’s deep cinematic love for his characters and their story, and empathy for the tragedies they’ve all been forced through.
As so often with the majorly talented Ozon, Frantz is a minor work, in a way, but impeccable.
sexy thriller in Swimming Pool; a female ensemble comedy whodunnit in 8 Women; a marriage breaking down backwards in 5x2; Dynasty-style soap in Potiche; and Romain Duris in a dress in The New Girlfriend. But he’s never done anything like this beautiful, elegant period piece before and its poise and mystery make it one of his most accomplished movies.Laying flowers on her fiancé’s grave, Anna meets a mysterious Frenchman called Adrien Rivoire (played by Saint Laurent star Pierre Niney) who has also come to pay his respects at the grave. Handsome and gently charming, Adrien eventually soothes his way into the affections of Frantz’s bereft family. The German villagers, however, bristle at the presence of an ‘enemy’ in their midst.
What follows is a beautifully controlled melodrama that’s marked with moments of real tension and shifting allegiances. Shooting in black and white, Ozon uses Beer’s face like a silent movie star, and every flicker is palpable. This is really the story of her grief and heartbreak, and Beer makes it utterly gripping to witness.
For all the excellence of both Paula Beer (she won Best Young Actress at Venice last year) and Pierre Niney, perhaps the two most striking scenes involve nationalistic songs – when Adrien wanders into an inn to witness local Germans belting out an anthem, it’s a scene somehow both prescient of and reminiscent of Bob Fosse’s musical, Cabaret. Later, when Anna travels to Paris, she is surrounded by people in a bistro singing La Marseillaise in a café to honour some soldiers, a scene which has echoes of Casablanca. There are a few Brief Encounter-style moments involving a steam train, too, all playfully yet powerfully employed by Ozon.
One can read many current parallels into a story of European mistrust and the danger of lies, and there is a lot of pain here, in the ripples of a horrid war’s aftermath. What lingers most, though, is the hope, although that, too, has the power to devastate.
I do like Ozon, and Frantz made my heart beat faster as it went along, with its occasional flourishes of colour amid the austere monochrome, the mix of German and French, and its aura of fairytale strangeness. But mostly why it works so well is how it exhibits the director’s deep cinematic love for his characters and their story, and empathy for the tragedies they’ve all been forced through.
As so often with the majorly talented Ozon, Frantz is a minor work, in a way, but impeccable.