It is 1895. Colonel Georges Picquart (Jean Dujardin) has just been promoted, to his own surprise, to head the French army's intelligence service. To get rid of the sewer smell there, literally and figuratively, he frantically yanks on the window in the musty office. It won't open.
A touching image in J'Accuse, one of today's most talked-about films. This reconstruction of French army captain Alfred Dreyfus, falsely accused of espionage at the time, is the centre of much hubbub. But the discussion is not about the content. The excitement concerns the director's reputation. Strongly protesting protesters even prevented a first screening in Paris of this already Silver Lion (Venice)-winning historical drama. What did not prevent J'Accuse was also awarded two Césars and attracted large audiences in France.
Assault
In the 1970s, Polanski romanced the then 13-year-old Samantha Geimer. The filmmaker, who had challenging work of great fame to his name (Rosemary's Baby, Chinatown), confessed to having had illicit sex. That was supposed to lead to a settlement. But when a trial with potentially severe punishment still threatened, he fled to France. The country where he has mainly worked and stayed since then.
The issue nevertheless continued to smoulder, partly because more women came forward with similar experiences. Accusations that Polanski in turn vehemently denied. His Carnage (2011) was still released in the Netherlands without comment or problems. But distributor Cinéart is now scratching its head with J'Accuse behind the ear anyway. And came up with a modified formula.
Because in the MeToo era, an accusation of sexual misconduct evokes much fiercer reactions. Last November, photographer Valentine Monnier disclosed that she had been raped by Polanski in 1975 - she was eighteen at the time. A revelation that worked like the proverbial fuse in the powder keg. The French premiere of J'Accuse suddenly became a controversial event. Even people who believe you should always distinguish between the artist and the work have a hard time with it.
Meticulous reconstruction
While the film story in itself does not cause any controversy. J'Accuse is based on the book based on extensive historical research by Robert Harris, who previously worked with Polanski. The film unfolds as a meticulous if not particularly original reconstruction of the Dreyfus affair. The political and legal scandal that rocked France in the late 19th century. What works well is Harris' choice to make it not a victim story but a whistleblower drama starring Picquart.
After the poignant opening with the public humiliation of Dreyfus, unjustly sentenced to life imprisonment on Devil's Island for high treason, he appears little more in the picture. The same, incidentally, can be said of his family's frantic attempts at rehabilitation. Something that could well have been highlighted a bit more.
Anti-Semitism
Picquart, as a newly appointed leader of the secret service, encounters a rotten organisation riddled with rigging and self-interest. As the film shows, anti-Semitism was also commonplace at the time. Already planning to make a clean sweep, the new head discovers by chance that Dreyfus' conviction rests on the possibly deliberate misjudgement of the spy's handwriting. It puts Picquart on the trail to the real culprit, something he is not thanked for. Harris and Polanski portray him as the consummate hero who puts justice before self-interest.
Also telling in this context is the flashback to the time when Dreyfus was a pupil of Picquart. Dreyfus suspects that he was given a bad review because he is Jewish. Picquart's retort is that while he does not particularly like Jews, discrimination is out of the question for him.
Emile Zola
Thus unfolds J'Accuse itself partly as an ambitious though not very original or surprising historical drama. As a realistic period piece, incidentally, it is brilliantly crafted, but of course that is not the main thing. The main line is a relatively conventional whistleblower story that meticulously follows Picquart's steps and shows the conflicts he gets into. A sideline is devoted to the affair he has with the wife (Emmanuelle Seigner, wife Polanski) of a politician. But beyond this personal detail is J'Accuse yet primarily a film that aims to reconstruct events and clashes in court. Culminating in the flaming protest by the writer Emile Zola, from which the film takes its title. And which earned Zola a year's imprisonment for defamation.
The role played by anti-Semitism in all this comes out clearly. As does the tendency to subordinate facts and truth-telling to emotions, prejudice, self-interest and the reputation of the military and other institutions. Whether to see any of this as referring to the current situation is a matter of interpretation. Recognisable it is, though.
A troubled life
Reflections on the utterly politically correct film itself have meanwhile been completely overshadowed by the hubbub surrounding the director. In a way, it is a continuation of the trend of drawing connections, at least psychologically, between Polanski's films and his own troubled life. A connection that Polanski himself usually denies.
Roman Polanski was born in Paris in 1933. Shortly before World War II, his Polish-Jewish parents moved back to their home country. During the German occupation, he escaped the Kraków ghetto; his mother perished in Auschwitz. His film debut Knife in the water (1962) he starred in Poland, after which he left the country to escape the Stalinism prevailing there. Not long after, in 1969, his then-wife Sharon Tate was murdered by the Manson sect. Chinatown (1974) seemed the beginning of a fruitful Hollywood career, until the impending conviction for abusing Samantha Geimer made him flee to Europe. The threat of extradition to the United States lingered over his head.
Statements
How J'Accuse now relates to the revived allegations is complicated. That Dreyfus was innocent is now beyond doubt. In that respect, as far as I know, no one has commented on the content of the film. Something else is to what extent Polanski, who has, after all, admitted guilt in the matter with Geimer, may see a similarity between the treatment of Dreyfus and the 'witch-hunt' (as he calls it) he himself faces.
In an interview attached to the press material for Venice, he states that he recognises things in the Dreyfus case that he has experienced himself. This has inspired him. He recalls how, after Sharon Tate's death, he was branded a suspect by some media outlets. And also how "absurd stories" of women he says he never met still haunt him.
Valentine Monnier, the woman who recently declared being raped by Polanski, says she came to her revelation out of outrage at the title of his film: J'Accuse, I accuse. She states that she could not bear Polanski identifying with Dreyfus. When asked, Polanski let it be noted in Paris Match that he would not consider identifying with Dreyfus. "That would be grotesque."
What would Georges Picquart have thought of all this, I then involuntarily think. The final scene, in which he meets Dreyfus once more, shows him as a sober and very principled man with whom there is no bargaining. Would he have managed to keep the film and the filmmaker apart?
Dutch release
The controversy and French and Belgian protests led distributor Cinéart to decide J'Accuse release in the Netherlands in a special way. Not censoring or passing judgment by keeping the film out, but enabling discussion. The film would be shown in De Balie in Amsterdam and, if desired, in other theatres only in combination with an introduction.
But now that the corona crisis has closed the halls, things are running a little differently. J'Accuse will have its premiere online on 16 April. Prior to that, De Balie is hosting a conversation on the issue with writer Jessica Durlacher that can be followed live via the website on Tuesday. From Thursday, this interview will be posted on Picl alongside the film itself.
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