Frantz

Nations reconcile after war but it is only people who can grant forgiveness. For many, it is an impossible grant that leaves wounds unhealed. This theme dominates the Franco-German film Frantz (2017), a psychological drama about a former soldier's personal quest for forgiveness. Filmed mostly in black and white, it is a poetically beautiful essay about guilt, lies, and tragic loss, set in the between-wars era.

The storyline is shaped by deep grief and national hatreds. In a small German village, Anna (Paula Beer) is grieving the death of her fiancé Frantz who was killed fighting in France. She visits his gravesite daily and one day finds that someone else has left flowers on the grave. A few days later she finds a stranger standing solemnly at the headstone and introduces herself to a brooding Frenchman called Adrien (Pierre Niney). They are soon in conversation and Anna is shocked to hear that Adrien had spent time with Frantz in Paris, sharing a love of music, art, and good times. Anna introduces Adrien to Frantz's parents who bitterly blame all French people for their son's death. As the parents hear Adrien share his grief and his memories of Frantz, a bond begins to form between all of them, at first reluctantly then warmly. But the mysterious Adrien is harbouring a tragic secret. Eventually he breaks down and confesses to Anna with whom a romantic attachment has developed. She immediately shuns him and he returns to Paris. Time elapses and she cannot forget him. Urged by the parents, she goes to Paris to find Adrien where she must confront a new loss and learn about forgiveness.

For audiences expecting an action-driven narrative, there little on offer in this film. The story moves forward in sombre but exquisite monochrome and often tense dialogue that is punctuated by a few scenes in colour as respite from melancholy. The performances of its four main roles are laden with emotion but stops short of melodrama. The principals Paula Beer and Pierre Niney give finely nuanced performances evoking the behavioural norms of the era. All performances are high-wire acts of emotion and dramatic tension: the pain on the parent's faces when they hear stories of their son is palpable and the tense suppression of Adrien's dark secret is electric. Anna's struggle between her loyalty to the cherished memory of Frantz and the possibility of new love is mirrored in the Franco-German struggles with blame, guilt, grief, and hope. As the relationship between Anna and Adrien strengthens there are several lyrical scenes of languid days enjoyed at the side of a pond that are composed like painting masterpieces and emblematic of the artistry brought to the making of this film.

Frantz is multi-layered with intense emotion that is explored at the personal and national levels. Truth is always the first victim of war and where truth fails, lies, promises and secrets take over. Frantz can rightly be described as an art-house feminist film. By taking Anna's viewpoint it encompasses universal themes of agency over victimhood that empower her to move on in her life.

At the grave of her fiancé, Anna is startled to find a strange foreigner overcome with emotion. Anna's curiosity leads her to find out more about this stranger, and deeper still as she begins to understand the nature of his visit. It concerns forgiveness and sympathy for the lives of others, yet also cowardice, suffering, war and dark secrets. A similar mix of emotions swirls within and around Anna. Lies as well as truths are revealed. It becomes difficult to tell one from the other. Anna and the foreigner, Adrien, attempt to reconcile the truths with the lies, and the light with the darkness. This is done not merely through words, but with the way the wind moves through the trees, chords of the piano and violin, an unexpected swim, a beautiful view from a hill top, and more.

Part of the magic of the film is in the way it reveals how we are all as vulnerable as Anna and Adrien. There are dark secrets in all of us that may be turned to love, or perhaps other way around.

Standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon obscured by mist, I felt a wave of emotion as the fog lifted and I could see the whole chasm – a mile deep and ten miles across, open in all its color and depth before my eyes. I felt a similar wave of emotion as this film shifted back and forth from black and white to color. Later I talked with a couple who disagreed. They thought the color shifts were too obtrusive and told them what to think. Yet good story tellers, as Ozon surely is, will toy with emotions in this way. I thought the shifts and cinematography were wonderful. The film characters are appropriately complex. The plot takes intriguing twists and turns. Themes include an anti-war element that Ozon deals with subtlety and adeptly. He doesn't rub our faces in it. The film is set in Germany and France in the aftermath of World War I, yet the themes are just as poignant today. The war is over, didn't you hear?! Languages and settings shift between German and French. Seen at the Miami International Film Festival.

First, because it is an Ozon. so, your expectations are well defined. second - it seems be familiar. your memories about "Broken Lullaby" are the basic clue. but, "Frantz" is different. special. surprising. yes, provocative. for motifs out of words. it is a love story. and more. it is a war film. and more. it is the story of a meeting and discover and family and clash between different cultures. and, off course, more. because all has the status of source for new steps on a way without rules, limits and forms of delicacy remaining unique. a film like one of yours memories. seductive. moving. discret . convincing. like an old song . or a flavour. so, an experience. fragil, strange, useful. about force and vulnerability. preserving not only the realistic images of a lost period but, in refreshing manner, its spirit. so, "Frantz". it is enough its title for define each aspect of this, in charming way, film.

It is 1919 and a young French man arrives in a little German village and puts flowers on the grave of a victim of the First World War. What was the relationship between the French man and the dead German? What shall be the relationship between the Franch men and the fiancee of the dead German? These are the central questions in the film "Frantz" by Francois Ozon. The first question is answered roughly halfway, the answer to the second question remains uncertain until the very end.

Up till now I had only seen "Huit femmes" (2002) and "Swimming pool" (2003) of Francois Ozon, and with the First World War drama "Frantz" Ozon goes "for something completely different" to use this Monty Python phrase.

The story behind "Frantz" was adapted earlier by Ernst Lubitsch in "Broken lullaby" (1932). "Frantz" is however not a remake of this film, if only because Ozon telles the story from a different perspective. The German Lubitsch takes the young Frenchman as his main character (Adrien played by Pierre Niney in "Frantz") The Frenchman Ozon takes the German fiancee as his main character (Anna played magnificently by Paula Beer).

This change of perspective is however not the only and not the most important difference between the two films. In "Frantz" Ozon takes a more complicated (but not necessarily negative) stance on the value of white lies versus the truth. In an interview about "Frantz" he says that behind each lie there is a desire.

In contrast with "Broken lullaby" "Frantz" was made well after the Second World War. Ozon had therefore knowledge about the relationship between the peace treaty of Versailles, ending the First World War, and the outbreak of the Second World War. The scenes showing remaining virulent nationalism are in this respect very disturbing.

"Frantz" is shot mostly in black and white, but some scenes are in color. In such a case I can't help to ask myself if there is a logic behind these choice. During the film I found none. In the above mentioned interview Ozon told that the emotionally more optimistic scenes (the film is about two persons damaged by the war and trying to pick up their lives again) are in color.

This is a story about how lying can be a good thing, a compassionate thing. When the female lead, Anna, goes to confession about her lies concerning her encounter with a Frenchman who seems to have known her dead finance, a victim of WWI, the priest in her German town tells her that her lies were totally forgiveable because they were meant well. This sounds simple, but the story is also about the aftermath immediately following WWI and the French and German feelings about one another's country and people. A film which begins perhaps in a mediocre way but becomes increasingly affirmative with the development of the plot.