Peter von Kant (Denis Ménochet), an accomplished film director, is on the edge of another major career breakthrough when his life is derailed.  He is visited at his home by his friend and actress Sidone (Isabelle Adjani) and her newest lover, the much younger Amir (Khalil Ben Gharbia).  Struck by his beauty, Peter reworks his latest script to feature Amir instead of Sidone as the two enter into a lusty relationship that slowly destroys Peter as he pushes away his friends, family, and Karl (Stefan Crepon) his silent but attentive assistant, all in pursuit of Amir’s love. 

François Ozon writes and directs Peter von Kant, a gender-swapped adaptation of Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s claustrophobic melodrama The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant (1972).  Premiering at Berlinale where it was nominated for the Golden Bear – the same festival where Fassbinder premiered Bitter Tears and earned a similar nomination – the film was picked up by Strand Releasing for distribution in the States.  Running a lean 85 minutes, 39 minutes shorter than the Fassbinder piece, Peter von Kant is always in conversation with its predecessor, but Ozon crafts a film that is capable of standing on its own merits, aided by a black hole performance by Ménochet and beautifully accented by the ensemble of Adjani, Gharbia, and Crepon. 

Ozon’s film pulls much of its theatrical identity from Fassbinder from the single location that calls to mind a stage play, décor that is focused on the naked form, the silent assistant, and many of the backstories and motivations of the characters.  It is a testament to Fassbinder’s writing that 40 years later his story still captures the attention of audiences with relatively little re-tooling on behalf of Ozon, and while Peter von Kant does teeter into the realm of films about filmmakers, at its core it is a dark film about obsession and does not seek to ultimately redeem the tortured artist or seek to justify his behavior.   

What is truly impressive is how Ménochet takes a truly unlikeable and cruel character and turns him into something of a sympathetic hero.  For as repulsive as he is in his treatment of Karl or his slobbering infatuation with Amir that feels just as predatory today as it did when Petra (Margit Carstensen) barked orders at Marlene (Irm Hermann) and preyed on Karin (Hanna Schygulla, who here returns to play Peter’s mother, Rosemarie) in front of Fassbinder’s peering camera lens, Ménochet expertly navigates the thorny arc of the broken man and brokers a sense of understanding with the audience.  Peter von Kant is just as much a film about isolationism as it is about power and control and unrequited love. Though Peter has what could be considered a moment of victory in his rejection of Amir’s offer to grab lunch before he is off again, it is hardly cheer-worthy and soon undercut by returning to Peter’s very-much-active obsession over the young actor.  The same can be said about how he lights Amir’s portrait on fire, not only does the small flame quickly extinguish itself, but there is a whole wall of portraits in the screening room and a Saint Sebastiane-inspired floor-to-ceiling portrait in the living room, still in pristine condition, that shows off Amir’s taught and youthful body. Peter never stops in his fetishization of the actor. 

As the joke goes, Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019) and Robert Eggers’ The Lighthouse (2019) are just gender-swapped narratives of each other, one blossoming into art and music while the other spirals out of control into sadism and murder.  Ozon’s film, in its brief runtime, does not capitalize as much as it could have on pivoting the central relationship from a lesbian one to two men.  Perhaps that was not the main factor in Ozon’s choosing to adapt this film as there are plenty of other polarities he explores, but there is one moment where, knowing how Fassbinder handled the climax of his film, the choices Ozon makes become confounding.  Late in the film, Peter turns to Karl, after having lost everything else, and finally speaks to his assistant with some kindness in his heart, as crocodile tears waver on his eyelids.  Karl, who had grown increasingly resentful of Peter but never defiant, spits in the man’s face before taking his leave out into the cold street.  Juxtapose this with Marlene, who packs up her belongings including a pistol; an expert breaking of Chekov’s law on Fassbinder’s part opting instead to follow Hitchcock’s adage on how to build suspense.  When she leaves Petra without incident, this split-second act from Karl is surprisingly physical and violent in the context of Ozon’s film and breaks some of the psychological acuity which the film has been building.  Knowing that Marlene has a weapon, she becomes an incredibly dangerous figure and that she does not use this power makes her an even stronger force in the film.  Meanwhile, Karl never reaches that level of formidability, and instead leaves in what should be a moment of triumph but feels more like resorting to the temper tantrum of a child given that much of their relationship had been such a bitting battle of wits. Peter breaks first, sure, but it has more to do with Amir’s rejection than Karl’s tactics and his exit feels more like a concession than sneaking in the final word as Marlene has done.

Looking at what Ozon is choosing to dissect in his narrative, and importantly looking at it now as its own work, the major theme the film keeps coming back to is beauty and age.  Peter surrounds himself with beauty all the time, not only in the company he chooses to keep, but his home is full of art depicting the body, notably a large portrait of Sidone that hangs in the bedroom, later X-ed out after he feels his friend has crossed him by not standing for his abuses.  Ozon never makes a disparaging comment on Ménochet’s figure, the larger barrel-chested man is often shot by Manuel Dacosse with the same sensual eye as Amir, but the film calls forth preconceived notions and beauty standards and highlights the many physical differences between the two.  There is no hint of androgyny in Peter von Kant, it is the male form through the male gaze, and while Peter is not as consistently scantily clad as Amir, he is often dressed in fancy silks that leave much of his chest exposed.  He looks on at Amir with a lot of lust and a little envy as he provokes the youth with comments about getting fat as he hands over another gin and tonic, but Peter would never dare to prompt him to cover up his smooth olive skin which he desires so much.   

Unable to say that he loves Peter, Amir is only worth his looks, and Peter is determined not to let them fade.  Amir, however, shelves his own happiness in exchange for the freedom – or rather the lifestyle and cash – that staying with Peter provides as he dotes over his every whim.  Compared to Karl who willingly gives his time and service to Peter without recognition, it is all playing into the themes of sadomasochist relationships but the film never really expounds upon this to where it makes sense.  The general framework is there, made even more apparent when Gabriele (Aminthe Audiard), Peter’s daughter, explains to him that she is in love with a boy who does not love her back.  Narratively, this is all very interesting, and coupled with the performances and the mise en scène, it is all very purposeful, but Ozon does not do enough to make this story his own and really plumb the depths of these characters. To look back for a brief moment, Fassbinder ran into the same issues with this story so Ozon’s shorter runtime works to its favor in this regard as he does not prolong the thesis about how these relationships that blend servitude and sexuality while never quite being able to defend their ideas. Neither Ozon nor Fassbinder the need to be needed as Karl/Marlene never utter a sound and Petra/Peter’s “need” for Karin/Amir is little more than empty lust. 

Even with its fleeting flaws, Ozon’s Peter von Kant is a handsomely made film that is nothing short of luscious to look at. Sirkian in its scope and style, something Fassbinder certainly would have appreciated, Ozon leads his cast to deliver incredibly strong performances that are bubbling over with raw emotion and fury. Fury at love and fury at one another, the explosive birthday party that punctuates the second act is a tour de force from Ménochet who rages against everything he has left in his life. Trapped and alone now in his ivory – or, rather, crimson – tower, it can be frustrating that he ends his arc having seemingly learned nothing, but it is a fitting end for the character, and we do not feel as if he has gotten away with his transgressions. Like an addict, he has fallen victim to his own pursuit, and while Peter may have earned our sympathy, he will never know as he has locked himself inside surrounded by the memories – the idea – of Amir, who is even less capable now of ever saying those three words which Peter was always seeking. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.