French cinema.  When you think of it, you likely think of art films shown exclusively in independent theaters -- films in which little is explained and even less is understood.  Maybe you picture Godard or Truffaut, foundational directors of the French New Wave era, or maybe you think of famous French actors that have made the leap to American cinema, like Marion Cotillard or Jean Dujardin. Or hey, maybe the word “French” just makes you think of Ratatouille, which, while not French in origin, still taught us how to pronounce the famous culinary dish.  I am willing to bet however that, whatever it may be, your first thought of French cinema is one pretty exclusively of high culture -- a place of artistic ambiguity that is too niche for a broad audience.  Yet in actual France, the story appears different.  The country, which produces 200-250 films per year (compared to the U.S.'s output of 400-500 films per year), the most popular genre of films are actually comedies, generating nearly half of the nation's whole cinematic output. While high culture films are the most defining, particularly to U.S. and other audiences abroad, the French public is not immune to the restorative power of a good knee-slapper -- (and now in 2021, we could all use a little more humor in our lives, right?)  In an increasingly globally connected and rapidly evolving world where cultural values and aesthetics are orbiting, blending, or crashing into each other, foreign cinema can provide an exercise in demystifying other cultural worldviews, as well as a vital avenue to better understand our own.

I've spent my increasing amount of time at home these days taking a class on French films and their American remakes.  The goal being not only to get myself out of a Netflix-induced coma, but to consider why -- though I am a Francophile and consumer of art -- I automatically assume that French films are too confusing or pretentious for me.  Part of this is due to a centuries long, ingrained American perception of France as a symbol of elegance and luxury -- which began in the U.S. as early as the Revolutionary War -- with comments made by the British soldiers about flamboyant French wigs to colonists. Such stereotypes were reinforced through the 1800s, compounded by a lack of French immigrants to the U.S. in a time period of massive immigration from most of the rest of Europe.  These factors solidified a less-than-complete perception of French culture as elusive and higher class.  While, yes, it's simplistic and culturally precarious to reduce an entire nation's cultural identity down to a handful of films, a country's artistic outputs do signify its values, morals, and norms.   

In watching these French films, which included Pepe le Moko, A bout de souffle, Trois hommes et un couffin, La femme Nikita​ and others, ​I approached them with the same thought I have when getting in line for a particularly tall roller coaster or entering the comments section on a political post on Facebook: "I'm a little scared, but here goes nothing."  Contrary to my trepidations though, when actually watching the French originals and in comparing them to their American counterparts, I found that I generally enjoyed the French film more, and for the very reason I was initially intimidated.  The French ones really made me think. After short study it became clear that French films like the ones listed above prize philosophy and deeper overarching themes over a clearly defined plot. American films, even more cerebral ones, often rely on linear plotlines and clear, almost “now you know” conflict resolution.

Take, for instance, A bout de souffle, ​one of the most famous French films of the 1960's New Wave movement, directed by Jean-Luc Godard and heavily influenced by the emergence of existentialism in popular thought. In existentialism as a philosophy, existence precedes essence (meaning something exists before it has meaning), and a defining feature of the philosophy is absurdity -- the often futile search for answers in an answerless world. Now, to be clear, existential thought is broad and diverse -- there are atheistic and theistic existentialists (see Sarte or Nietzsche vs. Søren Kierkegaard and Fyodor Dostoevsky).  Regardless of belief in a Creator and/or Ruler, however, the world is not meaningless, rather it is made meaningful by our interaction with the world.  Meaningless as life in reality may not be, in existential-absurd thought it is answerless. Not to spoil the end of A bout de souffle ​(go see it and skip the Richard Gere remake, if you please), but the film literally ends in a question. This cultural viewpoint of an answerless, subjective world might be what makes French movies so infuriatingly confusing; the story poses questions, leading to an ending that often doesn't provide a clear conclusion.  In a move so contrary to our American “feed-me” sensibilities, the movie forces you, the viewer, to analyze yourself and your situation and locate or provide the answers for yourself.  That is the point of the French moviegoing experience.  It's uncomfortable, not knowing an answer, because as Americans it seems we’ve been trained by Hollywood to passively consume our stories and ideas.

What does this tell us about the French?...

A further key to understanding what French films are is in understanding what they are not. Understanding this becomes simpler in contrast to the before-alluded-to “Hollywood Formula”, established in the 1930s.  The formula lists the key characteristics of a successful Hollywood film -- a linear plotline revolving around a singular character (typically a hero who is overall "good" with only a few flaws to make them relatable), a clear "good vs. evil" conflict (typically depicted through outward shows of violence), a romantic element (traditionally that overlooked overt sexuality), and clear conflict resolution (i.e. the "happy ending”). The Hays Code established in 1934, not only determined what was appropriate to be depicted on-screen, it also proclaimed that movies had "a moral obligation to raise the standards of the nation".  French cinema, though heavily influenced by Hollywood in many ways, are not made under the heritage of such a formula or cultural-moral obligation.  This quintessentially French value on the moment, on realism and on experience -- of things being what they are whether one likes it or not, and meanings being understood uniquely by the experiencer is both emblemized and passed down by the stories they tell in their most popular medium of cinema.

Take the 1980s comedy Three Men and a Baby, where three bachelors are saddled with an unexpected baby on their doorstep (bet you didn't realize that 1987s Tom Selleck comedy is a remake of an award-winning French dramedy).  While the main plot progresses, the American version ​inserts an action scene in which the three men set up an elaborate ruse to capture a ring of drug dealers for the police. Meanwhile, in the French original, Trois hommes et un couffin, ​the police fail to observe the drug deal happening under their noses and the drug ring is barely addressed again.  The American audience is perceived to have both the moral desire for justice and a general curiosity--but what about the drug dealers?--the French film, though, just generally moves along in a lifelike pace and structure. In a similar show of morality, Three Men and a Baby ends with the three men inviting the baby's self and work-oriented mother to move in with them so that they can all take care of the baby together. In Trois hommes, the film ends with an understanding that the men will continue to take care of the baby, but the mother's role is not directly addressed. The Frenchmens’ situation is a fact of life.  The American version, by contrast, not only answers the question of the mother's role, but it gives a very traditional and satisfying resolution to the issue -- there must, of course, be a maternal influence on the child's life, and the mother (and father) will ultimately care for the child.  This one of many examples offers a fascinating window into how philosophy, theology, cultural environment, or whatever other formative factor you would like to highlight shines through cinema, ultimately perpetuating or further creating a cultural worldview.

I would recommend this exercise -- comparing films from one culture and its remakes in another, to anyone who is trying not only to demystify a foreign culture and why it believes what it believes and sees what it sees, but to understand the same about their own. As an honest Francophile, it's difficult for me to avoid making a clear judgment on French films.  They are more complex than American films, they are less narratively preachy, less easy, and maybe I’m just influenced by the “law” that an original is always better than a remake.  The incorporation of deeper philosophical themes and a realistic lack of conflict resolution (in this life) found in French films means that an audience won’t come to a uniform conclusion on the ending.  We won’t all learn the same lesson.  We may not learn anything at all.  It's not so much an absence of morality, nor is it the atheistic existential idea that a person's choice is the only right choice there is -- it is a recognition that life is complicated -- so rarely is it neat and simple.  Instead of presenting a true subjectivity I see French films as reflecting a view of a complicated (fallen) world, providing an honesty in the idea that these films without linear plot or a predictable ending allow you to fill in the blanks with your own life, your own beliefs, your own experiences, and your own relationships​. French film is your  "Choose your own Adventure" book of determining  characters' motivations and whether or not they will be led to the famed “Happy Ending”.  Or maybe you just don’t think relationships often shake out that way.  Hollywood predictably will give us our “Hollywood ending”, but the French say -- c’est la vie -- “that’s life” --  where's the fun in that?

Contemporary French film recommendations:

 Les intouchables (The Intouchables, 2011)

La famille Bélier (The Bélier Family, 2014)

De rouille et d’os (Rust and Bone, 2012)

Bienvenue à Marly-Gomont (The African Doctor, 2016)

Paris, je t’aime (Paris, I love you, 2006)

Populaire (2012)

Animated French film recommendations:

Une vie de chat (A Cat in Paris, 2010)

Ernest et Celestine (Ernest and Celestine, 2012)

Ma vie de courgette (My Life as a Zucchini, 2016)

Le petit prince (The Little Prince, 2016)

Forefront is committed to fostering a robust conversation on the intersection of Christian faith and the arts by publishing a wide range of voices and opinions. The views expressed here reflect those of the author.