François Ozon on his adaptation of Albert Camus’s The Stranger: “The idea was to make a very erotic movie”

Albert Camus’s 1942 novel The Stranger does not lend itself easily to adaptation. It is a deeply introspective account of a man’s lack of emotion following the death of his mother, leading to a dramatic climax and the fallout from that event. It is unusual territory for director François Ozon, who typically works from original screenplays, yet it is unmistakably his interpretation of the character of Meursault, brought to life by Benjamin Voisin. Ozon talked through his process, including the changing colonial context of the story.

Lillian Crawford: What is your relationship to Camus’s writing?

François Ozon: I had read the book as a teenager, like everyone in France. If you asked me three years ago if I would make an adaptation of The Stranger, I would have said, “Never!” But actually I had another project two years ago about a young man who committed suicide in front of the absurdity of the world, but we didn’t find the money. It was a film with Benjamin Voisin, and some people who read my script said that it reminded them of The Stranger. So I read the book again, and I was shocked by how it is still powerful, strong and mysterious. It was a big challenge for me, but it was very exciting to try to better understand what Camus wanted to say.

What made you connect Benjamin to Meursault? 

After Summer of 85 [2020] we wanted to work together again. I wanted to show another aspect of his skill. In real life, he’s very close to that character; he’s charming, he’s funny and he’s very alive. I liked the idea of asking him to not be himself, to work on introspection, to be a kind of spectator of his life. I had in mind the Alain Delon of the 60s, in Le Samouraï [1967] by Jean-Pierre Melville.

What was your approach for creating the nonchalance of Meursault? 

He does not express emotions, but he has some sensations. So the idea was to make a very erotic movie, to have the sensations, of the wind, of the sun, of the flesh, of the sea. All these elements had to be in the film. I wanted to show Meursault like a blank page on which you can project some emotions, some feelings. I had in mind the films of Robert Bresson, who asked his actors to become models: to have no tone when they speak, to be neutral. Exactly the opposite of the American way of acting! 

The film made me think of Bresson’s The Trial of Joan of Arc (1962) and the context of the Algerian War. Could you talk about the colonial context of the novel?

When I read the book again, I was so shocked by the invisibility of Arabs in the book. Of course, Camus was not racist, but he’s the product of his time. And Algeria was France at this time, it was French departments. So I had to understand the context in order to understand what Camus wanted to say with this absence. I worked with many historians who explained this to me, because it’s still quite taboo in France. We don’t speak much about French colonialism because it’s still a wound for many people of the generation of my parents. There is still hostility between the French and the Algerian community, a lot of racism and the rise of the extreme right. It was essential for me to understand this.

Do you think that it’s easier to tell this story now than it would have been, say, when Bresson was working or Godard was making Le Petit Soldat (1963)? 

Yes, I think so. I think there is no censorship like there was in the 60s, like with Godard. But people are still alive who lived in French Algeria. So there are still some fights between the different interpretations of this period. It’s less of a hot topic, but it’s still problematic. It was important to actually delve into that period in order to understand better the current relationship of France and Algeria. 

It’s very interesting how you return the Arab presence to the story, especially through the music. 

I decided to work with Fatima Al Qadiri, who is an Arab composer. She comes from Kuwait. I had heard her music in Atlantics [2019] by Mati Diop, and I loved the music she made. Before she said yes, as an Arab woman she wanted to know how I would tell this story and how the Arabs will exist in the film. I reassured her that I didn’t want to have that absence; that’s why I decided to develop the character of the sister and to end the film with the name of the Arab. Which is not the case in the book. 

There are very vivid descriptions of colour in the book, and I am curious as to why you decided to shoot in black and white.

Yes, it’s quite paradoxical, because the book is full of colours. But for me, it was obvious after talking with my DP that we wanted to work on the idea of the sun, of the light, of the heat, and the white was very helpful. There is more of a feeling of the glare. Our memory of France in this period of colonialism is in black and white; all the archives, all the documents, all the pictures I had about this period were in black and white. Because we are not used to watching so many films in black and white today, it creates a distance, like Meursault’s distance from reality. It was a way to be in his mind.

It’s quite a contrast to your other films, like Summer of 85 or The Crime Is Mine (2023). I associate your style with brilliant colour!

It’s funny, because actually we shot in colour, but we watched the rushes in black and white. A month ago, the laboratory showed me the film in colour. And actually, it’s another movie. I would love to release it. I have to work on it. But the colours are like in a Technicolor movie, like Vincente Minelli or Douglas Sirk! Totally a different feeling. I don’t know if it works or not. I’m curious to live the experience with an audience, but your feelings, your sensations are totally different. 

I’d love to see that version as well.

Maybe on the DVD! 

The Stranger is in cinemas in the UK and Ireland from 10 April.