A guide to French film
- Cheyenne Slowensky
- Feb 9
- 8 min read
Updated: Feb 19
Every once in a while, there would be a school-assigned book, artwork, or film that I'd actually pay attention to. I decided to pay attention to Cléo from 5 to 7 for a sleepy black-and-white film history class, and what started as homework turned into one of the greatest cinematic experiences of my life.
Agnès Varda, my favorite filmmaker from that day forward, expertly captures the emotions of one woman (take a guess: Clé0) between the hours of 5 and 7 while she awaits the results of her cancer screening. She undergoes a momentous personal change from being watched to watching others as she anxiously wanders the streets of Paris, her future entirely opaque to her and the audience.
I never recovered from that film. Having lost my mother to cancer at a young age, I put myself in Cléo's shoes, allowed myself to feel that fear of awaiting the results of the latest scan. Cléo reframes her entire life in the span of those two hours, and so did I. Varda spoke my language, and it didn't matter that it wasn't English.
From there I dove headfirst into the world of French film, particularly the magical age between the 1950's and 60's called the French New Wave, or nouvelle vague. I won't bore you with the historical details which are rather bogged down by male filmmakers and their manifestos in the Cahiers du cinéma, despite Agnès Varda being credited with the first New Wave film (La Pointe Courte, 1955) and actively keeping herself on the outskirts of that community.
What largely defines the French New Wave is a rejection of standard filmmaking techniques (like most movements, I suppose) and a focus on highly personal and existential narratives. A lot of the films I'll share on this list follow one protagonist very closely, often over a short period of time, processing life's changes very emotionally and with an interior flair for the dramatic. We've all been there.
This shift to highly personal storytelling gave rise to the notion of the "auteur," with the director having full creative control over their work and a credit more in line with the singular "artist" or "author" rather than as part of the large crew typically involved in film production. There is a constant discussion in film studies about the validity of this theory as a means of recognition for filmmakers, some calling upon the distinct voices of Quentin Tarantino (Pulp Fiction, 1994) or Denis Villeneuve (Dune, 2021) as singular artists, while others argue that cinematographers, production designers, producers, sound mixers, editors, and all key creatives should be recognized for their artistry and contributions to a film. I tend to fall in the latter group, but I will admit I care more about following directors than I do any editor, producer, or cinematographer, so perhaps it's a matter of education as well as simply the actor/director-centered pop culture.
While not everything on this list is from the French New Wave, its ideology and style is tangible every film that came after it. With that brief history of the New Wave in mind, here is a guide to some of my favorite French films, both from the New Wave and beyond. With French film largely being abstract, black-and-white, and well... French, I understand the hesitation and inaccessibility to the average viewer in finding or enjoying these films. I would never have stumbled upon a French film before seeing Cléo from 5 to 7, and I only found more afterward by actively seeking them out.
I am happy to tell you that most of these films are available on Max, which has a surprisingly wonderful catalogue of French New Wave films, and of course on the Criterion Channel. I believe there is something for everyone here, and if not, at least the desire to look at beautiful things is universal. In no particular order, here are some of my favorite films for which I have the French to thank.
Agnès Varda, 1965
The title meaning "happiness," this film follows a happily married man as he falls in love with another woman. While it may feel like there is no plot (until there is) and everything is floral and vibrant and lovely, the ending makes is sure to make you feel sick. Varda herself described Le Bonheur as a perfect summer peach with a worm inside. I recommend this film for anyone who likes bright colors and is in need of a reminder that (most) men are pigs.
Éric Rohmer, 1986
If "Summertime Sadness" by Lana Del Rey were a film, it would be The Green Ray. While on summer vacation, a Parisian woman finds herself anxious and lonely despite chatty visits with friends, relaxing trips to the beach, and a spontaneous connection with a handsome stranger. Rohmer expertly puts into words (and images) the indescribable loneliness many of us (hopefully not just me) have felt in the happiest of places, surrounded by our closest friends. I recommend to anyone who has ever felt lonely or been to the beach, or felt lonely while at the beach.
Olivier Assayas, 1996
This is going to be the strangest and most layered addition to the list, but it's a confusingly wonderful treat. Assayas's Irma Vep follows Maggie Cheung, a popular Hong Kong actress, playing herself as she is cast by a failing French director in a remake of a silent film of the same title. Half in French and half in English, with Cheung as herself and the failing director being none other than Jean-Pierre Léaud, a notable star of a number of French New Wave films, this film is as genuine as it is surreal and strange. Cheung is just as confused by all the French language and ideologies surrounding her as the average English-speaking viewer. For those who are familiar with the film industry, it carries that sickening feeling of being on set and knowing that what you're making isn't working. I recommend Irma Vep to anyone who is feeling overwhelmed or out of place and need a reminder that it could always be worse.
Agnès Varda, 1955
I hope you were anticipating this one! I don't have much more to say beyond what I said in the introduction. If you are a woman, I implore you to give yourself this gift. Simply live in Cléo's world and look at her as she looks right back at you.
Céline Sciamma, 2019
Finally, something from this century. Portrait of a Lady on Fire follows the relationship between two women as one of them is hired to paint the other's portrait. What begins as a cold and transactional exchange grows into these two women knowing each other as no one has ever known them before. If you were interested in film in 2019, there is a high chance you've already heard of this one. If not, lucky you! It's aged beautifully and is still a beautiful and moving watch. I recommend to lesbians, painters, pyromaniacs (that's a joke), and beachgoers. Bonus if all of the above!
Louis Malle, 1958
Elevator to the Gallows is the most recent film from this list I watched and promptly added to my list of all-time favorites. This film follows two couples and two acts of violence, tied together by one couple having stolen the other's names, car, and belongings in a late night drive gone horrifically wrong. I was able to name a favorite sub-genre that I had previously never put into words: very smart people in very stupid situations. Watching Elevator to the Gallows is not dissimilar to watching a train wreck; what begins as two fool-proof plans ends in chaos and each of the characters' full internal dramatics as they try to make sense of their sticky situations. I recommend for anyone who has ever thought about being trapped in an elevator.
Julia Ducournau, 2016
This one is not friendly to a queasy stomach. Raw tells the twisted coming-of-age story of a lifelong vegetarian entering veterinary school, where she is hazed into her cohort by being forced to eat raw meat. What starts as a harmless (albeit traumatizing) initiation turns into an insatiable appetite. I recommend to anyone who has been subject to peer pressure or has eaten beef tartare.
Michael Haneke, 2001
If you are looking for one of the greatest performances of the 21st century, look no further than The Piano Teacher. In this perversely engaging film, Isabelle Huppert plays a sexually repressed piano teacher who seeks fulfillment from a new pupil. Huppert is real and raw and carnal even in such a submissive role, and the more I learned about her character the more empathetic I felt, despite the disturbing (to some) situation she subjects herself to. I recommend to anyone who had to take piano lessons, anyone still living with their mother, and anyone who likes quietly crazy women who are secretly just like all of us.
Agnès Varda, 1977
I would be remiss to recommend French film and not have a musical on the list. While I admit that this is my biggest blind spot in the French world (I have yet to see anything by the musical king of the French New Wave and Agnès Varda's delightful husband, Jacques Demy), but I feel strongly about recommending One Sings, the Other Doesn't nonetheless. A fabulously feminist tale of two friends as they grow up together (and apart) and experience all the trials and tribulations of being a woman in the world. Varda puts her feelings on abortion, motherhood, romance, and sisterhood in beautiful sound and color. I recommend to all women, especially Apple Martin.
Chantal Akerman, 1975
This is by far my hardest sell on the list. This three hour "trad wife's TikTok Live" follows Jeanne Dielman, a lonely widow who runs errands, makes dinner for her ungrateful sun, cleans her home, and has appointments with a few men. I won't lie, this movie is hard to watch; it's slow, it's uneventful, and Jeanne spends a lot of time just switching on and off lights in her apartment. But the meticulousness with which her routines begin to fall apart speaks volumes to the quiet insanity that Jeanne is incapable of escaping. This film is boring, but in a way that is necessary for the viewer to understand the tedium of Jeanne's life, and the ending will feel like such a relief, if not for her final act, but for the fact that the movie is finally over. I recommend to anyone who has ever felt stuck in the same old routine.
Agnès Varda, 1988
The final entry on this list is the cherry on top of the cake! Jane B. for Agnès V. is a quasi-documentary created by best friends Agnès Varda and Jane Birkin. Birkin has always wanted to be an actress, and Varda makes her dreams come true, intercutting open conversations about artistry and motherhood with fictionalized scenes where Birkin is a medieval queen, a mime, a thief, and more. I recommend to anyone who has ever had a best friend.
I'll wrap up the list there, before I start rattling off the rest of Varda's filmography. I hope at least one of these films piques your interest and you will find as much joy from them as I have. It feels so pretentious to watch black-and-white French film in my free time, but I wouldn't do it unless I actively enjoyed and looked forward to it as much as I do. Take these recommendations from someone who is otherwise your everyday audience member who doesn't know that much French. Each of these films has been such a pleasant surprise and by no means are any of them required viewing (except Cléo from 5 to 7, pretty please) to understanding Cheyenne on a plate. So enjoy these wonderful works of art, and merci beaucoup for reading! We're on this journey together, and there are still so many French films on my watchlist. If you're interested in what I'll be watching next, check out my French Film Summer list on Letterboxd and follow me to stay up to date on my search for new favorite films.
-Cheyenne
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