“An audacious entry into a recent revival of literary adaptations that take cherished texts and bring them to the modern era with precise, complex deconstructions of themes that are still eerily relevant to contemporary discussions.”

Adapting any classical work of literature can be challenging, especially one considered a near-sacred text. This has been the case for Albert Camus’ masterful L’Étranger, widely considered one of the essential works of 20th-century fiction, albeit one that has not been properly translated to film as intended (having been the subject of an Italian adaptation by Luchino Visconti and a Turkish version by Zeki Demirkubuz, neither adaptation being all that revered). Until now, when the responsibility to tell the story of the ill-fated Meursault fell to François Ozon, who returns to his literary roots with this impressive work, the first on-screen adaptation of the novel made in French. Following the protagonist as he descends into existential grief after the death of his mother, which plunges him into a state of despair that culminates in a cold-blooded murder, the film takes Camus’ deeply philosophical novel and highlights many of its bolder and more complex qualities, drawing on the lingering sense of dread and the overarching feeling of absurdity that was beautifully engraved on every page, and is here the foundation for yet another daring and provocative work from a director whose ability to intentionally unsettle and aggravate is often overlooked. Featuring many strong qualities and driven by a clear passion for not only the novel but also its legacy, L’Étranger is an audacious entry into a recent revival of literary adaptations that take cherished texts and bring them to the modern era with precise, complex deconstructions of themes that are still eerily relevant to contemporary discussions.

L’Étranger was first published in 1942, and was already focusing on a very specific time and place, one that is now firmly implanted in the past. Yet, the novel remains incredibly important, being viewed as not only one of the most important works of French literature but a vital part of the culture. The reasons for a work written over eighty years ago remaining so essential can be seen primarily through how it handles specific themes, all of which have proven to be timeless in many ways. As one of the great philosophers of his era, Camus was preoccupied with the absurdity of existence and the alienation of the human condition – and it is clear that Ozon has found value in a lot of these same ideas, since his version of L’Étranger is just as intricately woven in terms of how it examines the protagonist’s difficult attempts to negotiate with freedom, both physical and psychological, which are conversations to which we can all relate in some form. The director is walking a very narrow boundary between repeating the fundamental conversations present in the work and entirely reinterpreting them, and we often find that it’s in the smaller details that the most intriguing observations are made. The provocative morality that drives this story forward is integrated very well into this adaptation, which follows Meursault’s efforts to grapple with his own existence, easily aligning with some of Ozon’s other complex protagonists, many of whom were also found in some of his more entrancing literary adaptations.

The character of Meursault is one of the most interesting in the history of literature – an ordinary man who lives an unfurnished life, but after a sudden loss, spirals into a state of existential despair that derails his already paltry future. The reason we’ve not seen as many adaptations of L’Étranger as we have with other equally cherished works is likely due to the fact that this is a challenging role, and the right actor needed to be found to make the story work. Benjamin Voisin is admittedly not the first person we imagine for the part – he’s slightly younger than the role as written, and his statuesque beauty almost betrays the plain, unextraordinary man who Camus describes in his novel. However, these fears are extinguished immediately once Voisin appears on screen – he embodies the complexities of this character with extraordinary precision, crafting a tragic hero who gradually loses his willingness to fight the system once he realises the futility of existence. It’s an incredible performance that is only made more impressive by how surprising it is, since we never could have imagined someone being able to so carefully bring this role to life, especially through a more subtle, quiet approach (since other actors may have heightened the emotions beyond what was necessary), highlighting this character’s steady descent into madness, followed by the realisation that battling the inevitable challenges of modern life is simply futile, and not worth the time and effort, despite his desire to be free from what he considers to be a deeply troubling system.

Ozon has many merits as a filmmaker, but it’s his versatility that has allowed him to garner both respect and acclaim over the years. He works in a number of different genres, and employs many styles that prevent any two of his films from being compared beyond superficial similarities. His affection for previous eras in cinema also informs many of his stylistic choices, and L’Étranger is a perfect example of his efforts to create well-constructed, interesting homages to the works that inspired him from bygone periods. Visually, the film is plucked straight from the 1950s, with everything from the stunning black-and-white photography (the cinematography by Manuel Dacosse is truly impressive, especially in how he was tasked with capturing settings that aren’t normally conducive to striking imagery), to the specific brand of existential melodrama that populates this film. Camus’ novel is a challenging text to adapt, since he doesn’t provide thorough descriptions, leaving a lot to the imagination of the reader – but rather than viewing the limited descriptions as a challenge, Ozon uses this as an opportunity to forge his own vision, crafting what he perceives as the most appropriate form for this story to take. There are scenes that evoke some of Ozon’s cinematic heroes, with the likes of Orson Welles and Alfred Hitchcock lingering as spectres in both the visual and tonal aspects, the director drawing on their approach to adapting challenging texts as the inspiration for this fascinating deconstruction of a novel that has proven to be as mystifying as it has been deeply influential, turning it into a very effective adaptation that refuses to be limited by decades of reluctance to engage critically with its core ideas.

There is always something to be said about a literary work that chooses to be faithful more than innovative, but this certainly does not disqualify this version of L’Étranger from being incredibly impressive all on its own terms. There are some liberties taken in terms of the structure (the central conflict is introduced in the first scene, before leaping into the events leading up to it), and Ozon does exercise some creativity in terms of how he handles the material, but it is mostly a very reliable, direct adaptation that realises that there is nothing inherently inexcusable about building a film around elements taken directly from the text, such as the protagonist’s deeply reflective soliloquies, or dialogue he has with other characters that contains some of the most beautifully provocative writing of its era. Ozon has such a diverse body of work, choosing a standout film is nearly impossible, particularly since he has worked across so many genres and styles. However, while it may not be considered his defining masterpiece (particularly since the consensus on what this would be has never been established), L’Étranger is one of his strongest efforts, not only because of his impeccable style, but the sheer courage it took to adapt a novel that many considered to be impossible to render on screen, bringing his unique perspective that both honours Camus’ ideas while also allowing Ozon’s own interpretation to become clear. This is a masterful example of a literary adaptation that is reverent to the original, but not adherent to the point where it loses its own identity in the process, and proves to be a highlight in the career of an artist who continues to position himself as one of our most compelling contemporary filmmakers.