By the Grace of God (Grâce à Dieu)

French Cardinal Philippe Barbarin (right) was found guilty of covering up child sexual abuse by a priest in his diocese 

French Cardinal Philippe Barbarin

Cardinal Philippe Barbarin pictured with Pope Francis earlier this year in March, 2019

Director François Ozon

(From left) Melvil Poupaud, director François Ozon, and Bernard Verley on the set of By the Grace of God

Director François Ozon (left) and actor Francois Marthouret on the set 

Ozon (left) and actor Melvil Poupard

BY THE GRACE OF GOD (Grâce à Dieu)                         B                    

France  Belgium  (135 mi)  2019  d: François Ozon 

A mischievous, openly gay filmmaker known for his eclectic styles, with a flair for misdirection and exaggerated melodramas, playful sexual comedies, identity issues, and an outright contempt for bourgeois families, Ozon displays a tendency to integrate fantasy sequences which are indistinguishable from reality, which leave the viewer guessing what really happened, leaving his films open to interpretation.  While he may have been more experimental early in his career, he’s always maintained an enfant terrible status by being an agent provocateur, never afraid of tackling taboo subjects and broadsiding the public, provoking the masses with satiric stabs at whatever is deemed politically correct.  Yet Ozon has become the new mainstream, suddenly elevated to a new respectability as a longstanding gay filmmaker who has been unashamedly bold in challenging stereotypical views on gay and straight relationships, offering subversive alternatives for decades as the maker of Potiche (2010), In the House (Dans La Maison) (2012), Young & Beautiful (Jeune & Jolie) (2013), The New Girlfriend (Une nouvelle amie) (2014), or Frantz (2016).  Having viewed nearly all of his feature films, this is easily his most mainstream and conventional effort, yet with good reason, dramatizing real-world events, where the story presented has not yet resolved itself, taken straight from the newspaper headlines, basically the French version of the American film Spotlight (2015), highlighting pedophilia sex abuse accusations by a Catholic priest, the real-life Father Bernard Preynat (Bernard Verley), while also addressing the role of real-life Cardinal Philippe Barbarin of Lyon (François Marthouret) who is accused of concealing the priest’s conduct for decades, often reassigning him to other churches, yet he still managed to retain his status as a priest performing his church duties in the presence of unsuspecting children, all told from the point of view of several of the adult survivors who are aghast that this is still happening long after their traumatic childhood experiences.  While there were attempts to prevent the film’s release at the Berlin Film Festival in February 2019, where it won a Silver Bear (2nd place) Grand Prize Award, the court ruled that the accused priest had already pleaded guilty, though the Cardinal’s case is still playing out in the courts. 

While Ozon makes films like a short story writer, as most are unusually concise, usually written by himself, offering bizarre twists, venturing into farce, horror, comedy, or the psychosexual, even the supernatural, where some of his best work has involved psychologically probing films about women, UNDER THE SAND (2000), 8 WOMEN (2002), SWIMMING POOL (2003), or ANGEL (2007), much like Almodóvar, making only one film that similarly explores the male psyche, TIME TO LEAVE (2005), featuring Melvil Poupard as a man facing his own mortality, suffering from a terminal illness.  Poupard returns again here as a heavily conflicted man who set the wheels in motion, Alexandre Guérin, now in his 40’s, living a comfortable life in Lyon, married with five children, coming from the respectable middle class, with a prestigious position in the banking industry, yet he is appalled to see Father Bernard Preynat, the same priest he believed was tried, convicted, and defrocked for sexually abusing him from the ages of 9 to 12 when he attended Catholic Scout Camp, is still actively teaching children in Lyon, fully sanctioned by the church and protected by Cardinal Philippe Barbarin.  As his own children are approaching adolescence, wanting to protect them, he starts a series of targeted letters to the church which are read out loud, as well as the responses, starting with the Cardinal, who refers him to a church psychologist, Régine Maire (Martine Erhel), who acts as a go-between for Alexandre, Preynat, and the Cardinal of Lyon, who eventually arranges a face to face meeting with the accused priest.  And while Preynat openly admits his crimes, he refuses to do so publicly, and more curiously, fails to ask for forgiveness, which was the underlying church motive for arranging the meeting.  Having spent years overcoming the psychological damage, now with the full support of his wife Marie (Aurélia Petit), Alexandre openly shares what happened with his children, still embracing the teachings of the church, hoping his example will help teach his children not to remain silent in the face of criminal behavior.  His own parents, however, wonder why he’s bringing this up all over again, thinking nothing good will come of it, fearing they will be socially ostracized from the church in a predominately Catholic country. 

Much of this happened before the Cardinal obtained his position, professing outrage at the heinously sinful acts, promising to rectify all wrongs, yet he does nothing, sweeping it all under a rug, where throughout the centuries the church has never supported the victims, yet always managed to protect the priests, claiming their central concern has always been to maintain the central religious tenets of the church, yet their moral hypocrisy on this issue is hugely disconcerting.  The church, however, seems to be changing its stance on the scourge of pedophilia and the silence hanging over it, with Pope Francis calling it “one of the most vile and harmful crimes” in existence.  Ozon based his story on several members of the survivors’ group, La Parole Liberée, which has collected the testimonies of more than 85 people who claim to have been abused by Preynat in Lyon.  The film breaks it down to three different men, each one attending the same Catholic Scout Camp, where over the years Preynat had his pickings of whatever child interested him, singling them out, then retreating into private quarters separate and apart from the rest of the campers, but this behavior is consistent throughout his priesthood.  Flashback sequences are sparingly used to accentuate not just how it happened, but includes the looks on the faces of all the other kids who sat silently and watched, ultimately telling no one.  When shooting for the film began, it was shot in secrecy, using an alternate title, including church facilities in Belgium to avoid arousing the suspicions of the French Catholic church.  Initially Ozon thought to shoot a documentary, but found the actual stories told by survivors to be so compelling that he decided to condense them all into three different men in one film.  The film itself is surprisingly evenhanded, shown with a sense of restraint and control, more sobering than angry, using meticulously researched detail for the actual chain of events, yet the overall performances are exceptional, not just emotionally revealing, featuring characters eerily haunted by the damaging circumstances.  

The story moves to François Debord, an outspoken atheist, played by the highly assertive Denis Ménochet, so menacing as the abusive father in 2017 Top Ten List #7 Custody (Jusqu'à la garde), who starts a website and begins publicizing stories, forming a victims support group, eventually passing the baton to Emmanuel Thomassin (Swann Arlaud), easily the most damaged of the group, fighting drug addiction, joblessness, and the life of an outsider, with a near genius IQ, where bad news triggers epileptic seizures, where in his case the abuse was so pervasive it left him permanently disfigured, never really accepted anywhere until he discovers the support group.  Among the underlying layers expressed in the film are the toxic family reactions, haunted by the shame, often blaming the victim, with Emmanuel’s father cruelly telling him to just get over it, or a nasty scene between François and his brother, claiming all the attention led to a kind of favored status of the victim, jealous that his own childhood had been ruined by the revelations, still believing his brother is obsessed with seeking attention.  These incidents remind viewers of the kind of personal attacks that come with lifting the burden of silence, as powerful forces exist that continue to believe the less said the better.  For the victims, however, initially feeling so powerless, all eventually finding each other, where they’re no longer alone with their shame, each one sharing the same horrible secret that seemed to eat away at their lives, always carrying a heavy burden which hasn’t exactly been lifted off their shoulders, but at least there’s more of them to carry that weight.  The title comes from a 2016 press conference with Cardinal Barbarin who acknowledged that “the majority of cases, by the grace of God, are inadmissible,” as the statute of limitations had expired to file criminal charges against Preynat, inadvertently revealing a sigh of relief, thinking only of the church and not about the victims.  The public furor over the events changed the laws in France, extending the time limits on the statute of limitations.  Father Preynat, now 73, was found guilty of sex abuse to dozens of minors in the 70’s and 80’s, stripped of his position and defrocked by an ecclesiastical court, while Cardinal Barbarin was handed a six-month suspended sentence for not having removed Preynat from his parish despite repeated reports of misconduct, temporarily replaced until the appeal process has run its course. 

A Summer's Tale (Conte d'été)

Éric Rohmer meets with his cast on the seaside location of Dinard

 

A SUMMER’S TALE (Conte d'été)                 A               
from Rohmer’s Tales of the Four Seasons

France  (113 mi)  1996  d:  Éric Rohmer

While this is not generally considered among the major works of Rohmer, the third of his Contes des quatre saisons (Tales of the Four Seasons, 1990–98), described as “mid-level Rohmer,” as generally his Contes moraux (Six Moral Tales, 1963–72) receive the highest praise, with An Autumn Tale (Conte D’Automne (1998) considered the best of the Four Seasons, one might argue, however, that the critics got it wrong.  Never released in the United States until now, as for some strange reason they were never able to negotiate acceptable distribution agreements, so despite being released in Un Certain Regard at Cannes in 1996, few outside of France have actually seen this film.  In fact, according to Box Office/Business from IMDb, only 175,000 customers in France saw the film the year it was released, so certainly the film is due for a reappraisal.  Rohmer was a literature teacher, novelist, magazine editor, and film critic, where he was ten years older than any of the other young film critics in the Cahiers du Cinéma group of François Truffaut, Jean-Luc Godard, Claude Chabrol, and Jacques Rivette, all writers before subsequently becoming the founding filmmakers of the French New Wave, joining the staff in 1951 when Rohmer had already taught literature at school, published a novel Elizabeth (1946) under the pseudonym Gilbert Cordier, and spent three years as a film critic with such prestigious journals as La Revue du Cinéma and Sartre's Les Temps modernes. 

Rohmer shot his first film JOURNAL D’UN SCÉLÉRAT (1950) the same year he founded Gazette du Cinema along with Godard and Rivette before joining André Bazin’s film journal at Cahiers, serving as editor-in-chief from 1956 to 1963, a group whose function was watching and writing about films screened by Henri Langlois and his Paris Cinémathèque.  Perhaps in contrast to the condescension shown to film criticism in America, which was often at odds with a culture that considered cinema a second rate form of entertainment, the French, and Europeans in general, wholeheartedly embraced their artists, putting it on the same level as their own intellectual and artistic pursuits, finding cinema a form of expression to be taken seriously.  Rohmer’s films may show more in common with the preceding generation of Renoir and Bresson (Introduction to Bresson) than the young guns of Cahiers, but by the end of his career, the director left behind the term Rohmer-esque to describe spare, dialogue-driven films about relationships between men and women, often presented as parts of a multi-episodic series, exploring the awkward romantic entanglements, emotional turmoil, and moral dilemmas that develop between characters who are often amusingly caught between two or more objects of desire.  Rohmer’s distinct style can be seen in the work of directors from Arnaud Desplechin and Olivier Assayas to Woody Allen and Richard Linklater.

In my mind at least, this is in the realm of best Rohmer film, rivaling even the classic My Night at Maud's (Ma Nuit Chez Maud) (1969) for that elevated territory.  The film makes the best use of locations of any Rohmer film since his first feature, The Sign of Leo (Le signe du lion) (1959), a bleak, black and white near documentary film where the city itself stands for the doomed protagonist’s deteriorating state of mind, where poverty is shown to have a debilitating effect, as the normally welcoming City of Lights turns into a nightmarish world of utter indifference.  In stark contrast, this couldn’t be a brighter, sunnier film, uniquely opening in a wordless ten-minute sequence as we watch the introverted Gaspard (a young Melvil Poupard is literally perfect for the part, as no Rohmer character is better suited as a stand-in for the director) arrive on the ferry boat and wander alone through the streets of Dinard, a picturesque Brittany seaside resort town.  While the setting is divine, overlooking a sandy beach filled with holiday revelers enjoying the ocean air, Gaspard sits in his room playing guitar, eats various street offerings or at local restaurants, but generally avoids contact with others.  He’s quickly recognized on the beach by a waitress that served him the day before, Margot, Amanda Langlet from PAULINE AT THE BEACH (1983), who cheerfully asks him to join her.  While she sees him as a lonesome puppy dog off his leash, shy, and in need of companionship, Gaspard avoids several social invitations, preferring instead to sit home and explore his music. 

Rohmer uses a day-by-day chapter heading like diary entries, showing the significance of time passing, as they grow fond of each other while developing trust, where they appear to be able to tell each other their innermost secrets, where Margot’s in love with a man who’s off in the South Seas working for the Peace Corps, while Gaspard’s sweetheart Lena may or may not be his girlfriend, as he’s not sure how much she likes him, but he came to Dinard hoping to run into her, but she hasn’t written or left her address, leaving him in a state of limbo.  Days pass as they go on long scenic hikes by the sea, also visiting nearby Saint Malo and Saint Lunaire, sensuously photographed by cinematographer Diane Baratier, where she’s as gregarious and open as he is guarded and reserved, showing more maturity and self-assured poise, reminding  him “It’s easier to be yourself with a friend than with a lover.  You don’t have to pretend.”  Her overall presence seems to anchor the film emotionally and provide needed stability, despite having a few changes of heart herself, but she objects to being used as the second or third option, the safe fallback position, the last choice after the others have been exhausted, where she’s viewed as the leftovers.  What sets this apart from other Rohmer films is the ease in which these actors play their parts, especially Poupard and Langlet, as the performances have never seemed so comfortable, without an ounce of the pretentiousness that seems to plague so many other characters throughout his work, as their awkwardness and fickle changeability completely suits the indecisiveness of youth.     

Stylistically this resembles the long tracking shots of extended conversations that develop while walking, thriving on the spontaneity of the moment in Richard Linklater’s Before Trilogy, Before Sunrise (1995), Before Sunset (2004), and Before Midnight (2013).  This is one of the more spontaneous Rohmer films as well, where humor is much more prevalent.  With Margot having a sunny disposition and a PhD in ethnography, they develop a comfortable kind of platonic intimacy, where she reminds him “I’m comfortable with everyone.  It’s my training,” while Gaspard grows moody and deeper into self-loathing, becoming downright morose, pouting “Since no one loves me, I don’t love anyone,” claiming he hates groups, but enjoys people’s company one at a time.  This film borders on the brooding, existential territory of Bresson’s Four Nights of a Dreamer (Quatre nuits d'un rêveur) (1971), showing how isolated and self-absorbed kids can be during the innocence of youth, where they’re still discovering who they are and what they believe in, not sure yet how they fit into society, yet ready impulsively to make that leap.  Margot invites him to come along when she meets an old Newfoundlander sailor (Aimé Lefèvre), a guy familiar with the Celtic history of Brittany who’s spent his life at sea, singing them a sea shanty where music, as it does in the Bresson film, seems to have an intoxicating effect, not only bringing these two characters closer but inspiring Gaspard to go home and write a similar song. 

At the urging of Margot, who senses Gaspard’s growing restlessness, she introduces him to a local friend Solène (Gwenaëlle Simon), a girl Gaspard previously avoided claiming she was not “his type,” whose beauty and confidence in herself both intimidates and enthralls him, changing gears in midstream, offering her all of his attention, going all-in so to speak, riding the wave of spontaneity.  He teaches her the love song he just wrote that expresses the fierce individualism of a pirate’s daughter embracing the spirit of an all-encompassing love as she sails the seas, giving her the song he actually wrote for Lena (who still hasn’t shown up yet), joining her family for an afternoon boat ride where they all sing together in unison accompanied by an accordion player, where this may be the centerpiece of the film, where art achieves an almost perfect harmony.  But just as the kissing begins and at the moment for them to consummate their newfound love, she introduces certain relationship principles, among which includes never sleeping with a guy on the first date.  Instead they make plans (as he did with Margot) to visit the scenic isle of Ouessant, which takes on an almost mythical quality in this film, thought of as a land where dreams come true.  In the course of a week, Gaspard promises to go to there with all three women, as out of the blue Lena (Aurélia Nolin) shows up, full of excuses, evasive when it comes to the idea of commitments, or even meeting at a designated time, just leaving him in the lurch, without a word, yet expecting his full and undivided attention afterwards. 

Lena is easily the most childish of the three, a blond who is also the most pampered and overprotected, where one day she loves you, the next day she avoids you, driving Gaspard a little crazy, who’s already completely indecisive about what to do.  While he’s most faithful to Margot, but sex is out of the question, or so he believes, yet he can’t say no to Solène, who literally forces him to choose her when she wants him, but falls upon her “principles” apparently to avoid sex.  Lena lives in a fantasy world where Gaspard can’t find a place, much as he’d love to, where she insists that he act in a certain way towards her, always at her beck and call, and if he can’t do that then he can only lead to disappointment.  Men as a social group are dumped on by these women, and rightly so, as Gaspar can’t commit to any of them, so he plays the field, hoping for the best outcome.  Rohmer, in his seventies when he made this film, brings together these fits of youthful indecision with remarkable clarity and humor, showing love to be a walking contradiction where the closer you get to it, the farther it is away, like a fickle mirage.  Expressing warmth toward all his characters, Rohmer has cleverly delivered one of his most delightfully charming films, where it doesn’t have that sense of melancholy that lingers over many of his other films, but instead features a rapturous view of youthful exuberance, disguised as it is in secrets and ulterior motives that are constantly evolving, yet like the musical theme, retains a sunny optimism for life that is positively enchanting.