Like most good students of a certain age, I read Albert Camus’ 1947 novella, The Stranger, in high school. Considered a classic of existentialist storytelling (but don’t tell Camus that!), I felt instantly drawn to its spare, distant approach. The 1967 film adaptation by Luchino Visconti, and starring Marcello Mastroianni, didn’t quite capture Camus’ elusive essence. As accomplished a filmmaker as Visconti was, his version, and Mastroianni’s performance in particular, felt too emotionally engaged for me. I’ve yet to see Fate, the 2001 Turkish adaptation, but pulling off this particular brand of almost lifeless stoicism would take a filmmaker of exceptional skill.
Enter prolific queer director François Ozon (Criminal Lovers, 8 Women, Swimming Pool), whose staggering take on the material, along with co-writer Philippe Piazzo, has elevated him, in my opinion, to the pantheon of all-time great filmmakers. While staying true to Camus’ work, he dives deeper into the issues of colonialism, racism and ultimately the meaning of life. Ozon has managed to take something so ice cold and turn it into a truly compelling cinematic work of art.
Set in 1930’s Algiers, the film opens with jaunty newsreel footage, presenting the French occupation as something that has breathed new life into the crumbling city. The faces of its Arab population clearly tell a different story. Into this milieu we meet Meursault (Benjamin Voisin), a young prisoner who announces to his fellow inmates that he has killed an Arab. How he got there and the fact that he seems to feel no remorse, or any other emotions for that matter, makes up the bulk of the story. Many of you may have come to this tale from The Cure’s song, an homage to Camus, “Killing An Arab”.
Shot in gorgeous, inky black and white by cinematographer Manuel Dacosse, I was reminded of the great limited series, Ripley, starring Andrew Scott, photographed by Robert Elswit. Both share that “every single shot is a masterwork” quality along with more than a hint of homoeroticism. Moreover, The Stranger feels like it was made in the 1930s, with Ozon carefully understanding such techniques of the time as dead air and deliberate pacing. Fatima Al Qadiri’s score works wonders because it’s used so sparingly and effectively. All of this allows us to focus on Voisin’s perfectly inscrutable performance.
None of the warmth Voisin brought to Ozon’s Summer Of 85 comes into play here, replaced instead with an aloofness combined with staggering beauty. The camera loves him so much that despite Meursault’s apparent heterosexuality, this is a male-on-male gaze movie to the highest degree. You may find yourself wanting to shake him and shag him simultaneously. Despite his physical perfection, his impassivity, such as when he doesn’t cry at his mother’s funeral, earns him more judgment than the fact that he murdered someone. Shades of Meryl Streep’s incredible turn as Lindy Chamberlain in 1988’s A Cry In The Dark anyone?
Meursault gets surrounded by a cast of characters, all of whom exist to shine a light on his disinterest or lack of engagement with them. One day at the baths, he reconnects with an old flame, Marie (a quietly heartbreaking performance by Rebecca Marder), who may fall in love with him, but reciprocation doesn’t exist in his vocabulary. He regards with almost clinical detachment the plight of his neighbor, Salamano (legendary character actor, Denis Lavant), an elderly man who loses the dog he cruelly beats. Lavant, best known to me for the equally homoerotic Beau Travail, ferociously brings to life this very damaged soul.
In perhaps the most important relationship in the film, considering its impact on Meursault’s life, his other neighbor Raymond Sintès (a scarily menacing Pierre Lottin) acts as a pimp to an Arab sex worker (Hajar Bouzaouit) he abuses. Her brother Moussa (Abderrahmane Dehkani) catches wind of this and threatens Raymond. Muersault unwisely gets involved, perhaps out of a blind loyalty to Raymond or any number of unknown reasons, leading to the key incident of the film. Their fateful confrontation on the beach, with the sun blazing off of Moussa’s knife even while Meursault takes in his exposed armpit and beads of sweat, expertly combines violent impulses with male sexual attraction. An earlier scene, in which Meursault wakes up in bed seemingly with Marie’s arms wrapped around him, pulls back to reveal he’s merely hugging himself. This directorial choice feels completely intentional. It’s moments like these in which Ozon’s queer gaze makes his interpretation so much more singular and impactful.
Make no mistake, The Stranger may excel as a slow burn steeped in Meursault’s indifference to the world around him, but, like the novella, it doesn’t shy away from its explosive final act. Voisin, a figure of incredible control up until then, lets loose with impressive intensity, clearly and convincingly laying out his worldview. It culminates with a startling revelation, putting his perspective into a whole new, emotionally resonant focus. It exposes the hypocrisy of the system which has condemned him and the freedom he feels living his life strictly on his own terms. While true to Camus’ writing, Ozon and Voisin give this moment so much more heft and meaning than previous attempts.
The novella has had a tremendous impact on how I view the world. As a child, my brother, perhaps sensing I was different than others, would tell me, “Society is going to try to turn you into a robot. Don’t let them!” Combining those two experiences, I looked at systems, world order, and especially human behavior with a more critical eye. My queerness, which certainly brought on feelings of isolation and otherness, also turned into my superpower. I relished my ability to see things from a different angle. I feel Ozon, by subtly adding homoerotic subtext to this classic story, allows Voisin’s Meursault to come to life, however impenetrable he may seem. By doing so, he makes the character relatable in new ways, leaving us with not only a beautiful, beautiful film, but a new way to look at our lives.
By Glenn Gaylord, Senior Film Critic
The Stranger is available on VOD from May 19th, 2026.
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