Editor’s Notes: Francofonia is currently playing in Toronto at TIFF Bell Lightbox.
In 2002, Russian auteur Aleksander Sokurov gifted the world Russian Ark, a miraculous tour through the last 300 years of his homeland’s rich history, told in a single, jaw-droppingly seamless shot. Sokurov’s Steadicam marvel roamed the halls of St Petersburg Museum with an astonishing cinematic viscera. His latest work, the moving, thoughtful and fervently original Francofonia, serves as a companion piece of sorts to that rare feat of technical showmanship. Although nowhere near as stunning an experience as its predecessor, this is a thematically rich and uniquely original work with genuine dramatic heft to spare. You won’t see a more daring, singular or artistically pure vision this year.
. . . thematically rich and uniquely original work with genuine dramatic heft to spare.
Sokurov this time focuses on the Louvre, taking in centuries of incident to craft a fully formed love letter to Paris’ wondrous collection of French art and culture. The film can be divided into three disparate, yet inexorably linked, timeframes which converge to form an ingenious tapestry where documentary, drama and gleeful invention work in perfect harmony. The most prominent, richly drawn section follows the burgeoning friendship between Nazi officer Franz Wolff-Metternich (Benjamin Utzerath) and Louvre co-ordinator Jacques Jaujard (Louis-Do de Lencquesaing, I think), whose passionate adoration for the arts establishes a heartfelt bond despite their initial ideological opposition. The second, less substantial component feels like an assortment of gently amusing sketches, as Napoleon Bonaparte and Marianne (symbol for the French Republic) roam the Louvre’s impressive galleries. Finally, we see Sokurov as himself, in Skype conversations with a sailor aboard a ship transporting priceless artworks to their new home, risking his life for priceless treasures from a culture he has no stake in. Sokurov curates these compelling threads via dulcet narration, simultaneously apathetic and sentimental, whilst employing archival footage and brilliantly mounted recreations for an unforgettable achievement.
. . . You won’t see a more daring, singular or artistically pure vision this year.
Above all else, Francofonia is a soulful meditation on art’s unique ability to connect, record and contextualise an entire people and everything that they stand for. Whilst the powers that be wage arbitrary wars and seek to divide those they govern, humanity perseveres through the unceasing pursuit of artistic veracity. Art can hold a variety of meanings from different perspectives; for the Nazis, it’s an instrument of power and control, to Sokurov it lies at the centre of our collective conscience. A particularly memorable sequence casts Napoleon and Marianne in a heated debate over an official reading of the Mona Lisa, perhaps the single most famous painting in history. Marianne insists upon the famous French signature “Liberty, equality, fraternity”, whereas Napoleon informs us that “It’s me! All of it!”
In the marriage of iconic imagery from both French art and extensive historical record, Sokurov appears to present creativity as an integral, powerful force for good within a thriving culture; the essential movement for self-expression and scholarship. The film can be summarise by a momentary shot, in which Marianne and Jaujard cross paths along a corridor. This is, of course, logistically impossible, yet thematically integral. Art is one of few forces capable of surviving temporal shifts; it is ongoing and everlasting, seemingly stuck in time yet always moving forwards.
Certain infuriatingly ambiguous sequences result in a production wide open to interpretation. What purpose, for example, might the sailor’s anecdotal journey serve in the wider thematic context? There’s further indulgence in the shifting of aspect ratio for the wartime section, alongside an overbearing musical score discordant with the otherwise mournful, sombre epitaph accompanying it.
Sokurov’s verbose, occasionally dry, narration forms the backbone for this expansive, effortlessly engaging and masterfully constructed meditation on art, conflict and everything in between. All pretentions aside, Francofonia is nothing short of sensational.
Sokurov’s verbose, occasionally dry, narration forms the backbone for this expansive, effortlessly engaging and masterfully constructed meditation on art, conflict and everything in between. All pretentions aside, Francofonia is nothing short of sensational.
