Is This a Gay Flirt Before the Murder, Mr. Ozon?

He is a regular at the major film festivals. François Ozon’s (58) feature debut “Sitcom” and his crime thriller “Swimming Pool” were both presented in Cannes, his relationship drama “5×2” opened in Venice, and at the Berlinale he showcased Fassbinder’s stage-to-screen adaptation “Drops on Hot Stones,” the comedy “8 Women,” the abuse drama “Praise Be to God,” and “Peter von Kant,” the biographical portrait of his great idol Fassbinder.

Now the openly gay star-director has ventured into adapting Albert Camus’s The Stranger. In 1967, Luchino Visconti filmed the material with Marcello Mastroianni. The role is now taken by Benjamin Voisin, who previously played the lover in Ozon’s queer romance “Summer of 85.” “The Stranger” has been released nationwide in German theaters since January 1, 2026 (review by Fabian Schäfer).

Monsieur Ozon, you direct nearly a new film every year. Do you want to surpass Fassbinder in the number of films?
No, Fassbinder beat me to it already. He died younger and had directed more films than I did by the time of his death.
What exactly motivated you to adapt this book?
It is a masterwork of French literature. I was fascinated by the character Meursault, because I had another film project I couldn’t realize: a portrait of a young man confronted with the absurdity of the world. So I reread “The Stranger.” On rereading the book, which I had studied in school, I realized how powerful and enigmatic it still is. I began with the adaptation to understand the character and to unlock his secret.
What significance does a nihilistic or existential figure have for today?
We live in a world full of absurdities. It’s hard to ascribe meaning to the events around us. When you look at what’s happening in the United States, the rise of the far right, or the war in Ukraine, it’s easy to wonder how such things can repeat. Has history taught us anything? It can lead to resignation: “What difference does it make, since I will die anyway and nothing makes sense?” This nihilistic temptation still exists for many people today.
Is the ending to be read as a glimmer of hope?
What’s interesting about the film is that the main character ultimately rebels against Catholic ideology. Meursault realizes that the moment matters, not the ideologies represented by Catholicism. It isn’t that ideologies are unimportant, even those of Catholicism; it’s that this is one way to respond to absurdity.

How did the decision come about to shoot the film in black and white?
For me it was important to understand the story in its historical context. I needed to learn about the French colonial mentality of that era and the propaganda of the time. Black and white allowed me to revive a bygone era because our entire visual memory of Algeria is in black and white. It also lets us push the lighting further and generate a warmth and sheen that color can’t match.
The film has a very dark side. What does it do to you to dwell on such a somber theme for so long?
Questions about the meaning of life are inherently dark because everything points toward death. I’m drawn to the beauty of the characters. I wanted to highlight the beauty and sensuality of Meursault’s world.
There’s that beach scene. The young Arab man lies shirtless on the sand. The camera glides over his armpit hair, his bare torso, and his lips. Is that the gay flirt before the murder?
Sensuality is, for Camus and for Meursault, of great importance. Everything is experienced sensually. Meursault doesn’t show his feelings, but he feels them. So it was crucial to portray the beauty of Marie’s body, the love scene, and the sensuality in his relationship. He observes beauty. And, of course, he recognizes beauty in the man lying there.
Or is Meursault trying to erase his unacknowledged homosexuality with the murder?
No, that isn’t about erasing a latent homosexuality by killing the Arab. It’s rather the sense of otherness that Meursault perceives. He sees a handsome man before him and finds himself in a dominant position. The sun blinds him, the knife reflects the sunlight. Those are the elements that interested me. Before the murder, I wanted to create a moment in which time seems to stand still. This stretch of time produces a hovering moment. A kind of eroticism emerges, but it’s mainly about the interplay of light, bodies, and observation.

Eroticism runs like a red thread through your films. What is it about that fascinates you?
Cinema is the ideal place to explore longing and emotion. The sensuality of relationships and the surrounding environment should be emphasized. The dialogue-lite first act of the film intensifies this sensuous experience. It’s in the nature of cinema to let us feel all of this. Cinema is a world of desires. In a sense, a place of joy. A place that gives meaning.

When we spoke last time, you were skeptical about artificial intelligence. Has that changed?
I’m not sure. In my previous film “When Autumn Comes” I wanted to experiment with AI. I told the story of a mother who grows mushrooms for her daughter and poisons her. The AI suggested a completely different story in the Walt Disney vein, where mother and daughter reconcile. It was fun, but not particularly relevant to directing. AI is currently most useful for special effects. In this film, it was used to recreate Algeria in Morocco.
During the end credits, “Killing an Arab” by The Cure plays. What’s the story behind that song?
For the end credits I wanted to use The Cure with their iconic song “Killing an Arab.” So I wrote to Robert Smith, who had previously given me permission to use “In Between Days” in “Summer of 85.” Coincidentally, he had just rewatched Visconti’s film and agreed right away, pleased that the track—long misread by some—would now be placed back in the Camus book’s context.