Franz (1971)
Directed by Jacques Brel

Film Review

Jacques Brel had pretty well given up his singing career when he chose to embark on a new career as a film director, having distinguished himself as an actor in such films as André Cayatte's Les Risques du métier (1967) and Philippe Fourastié's La Bande à Bonnot (1968).  For his first outing as a director, Franz, Brel cast himself as the lead, alongside another cultural icon, the French singer Barbara, in her first substantial film role - a piece of casting that is as inspired as it is eccentric.  Brel's talent as a film director is, to say the least, minimal, and whilst his first offering has no end of charm it is chock-a-block with the kind of mistakes that first time filmmakers are known for.  We forgive the film its failings because of its typically brélien sincerity.

Perhaps too eager to impress, Brel punctuates the flimsy narrative with some gloriously overblown panoramic shots that would look excessive even in a Claude Lelouch film, and the editing is so choppy you'd think the film editor was forced to do his job whilst crossing the Atlantic on a raft in a storm.  Technically, Brel could hardly have made a worse job of the film, and the script isn't much better, the plot being an anodyne romance of the kind that makes Lelouch's Un homme et une femme appear über-sophisticated.  It's a film that, logically, you know you should hate, and yet somehow you can't.  Franz is a flawed piece of cinema but it has an unmistakable poetry to it, along with a brittle charm that reflects the unique personality of its author.

What made Brel such a successful actor was his natural ability to arouse sympathy in an audience, even if, as was often the case, he was cast as the most pitiable of characters.  In Franz, he is at his most pathetic, a sad wreck of a man who, visibly scarred by his wartime adventures in the Congo, finds it impossible to connect with other human beings.  Brel's scenes with Barbara, who remains distant and mysterious throughout the film, have a genuine warmth and poignancy that - magically - distract us from the film's multiple imperfections.

At first, Brel comes across as a Fernandel-like loon, a cartoonish figure of fun we can't help laughing at, but as the narrative unfolds (with the refined elegance of a herd of inebriated elephants tumbling over a cliff) the tragic outsider gradually comes into focus and we can but weep as his last fumbling shot at happiness is snatched from him.  In the film's concluding sequences, Brel takes us completely by surprise and delivers an emotional wallop that is as intense and visceral as any he ever managed to channel into his songs.   On its first release, Franz did attract some positive reviews, but it proved not to be a commercial success.  It was with considerable reluctance that Brel directed his second (and final) film, Far West (1973).

Film Synopsis

A boarding house at a Belgian seaside resort serves as a rest home for a number of civil servants convalescing from various illnesses.  These include war veteran Léon, who injured both his leg and his mind whilst fighting as a mercenary in the Congo.  The unexpected arrival of two attractive young women, Catherine and Léonie, livens things up in the boarding house.  Most of the men are attracted to the liberated and out-going Catherine, but Léon finds the introspective Léonie more fascinating and is soon madly in love with her, although he finds it hard to express his feelings.  A promising romance is cruelly derailed by Léon's mischievous fellow boarders and his possessive mother...