To hell with Polanski and supporters
This week at cinemas around the country, a little red shuttered window will open on to the quaint, cobbled streets of French cinema land for the New Zealand French Film Festival. Sadly, I can’t write about that or which films in the festival I think you should see, without first asking a very important question: What the hell, France?
Roman Polanski? Best director? Seriously? I’m talking about the drama in Paris last week, when film-maker Polanski – who fled the United States after pleading guilty to unlawful sex with a 13-year-old girl he plied with Champagne during a photo shoot in 1977 – was named 2020’s Best Director by the Academie des Arts et Techniques du Cinema’s Cesar awards, (the French version of the Oscars), for his work on the film J’Accuse.
When Polanski’s name was announced, actress Adele Haenel led a furious protest walkout by actresses and female film-makers. Headlines about it spread like mould on bread across the entertainment pages.
Maybe I’m a bit sensitive to convicted child rapists getting standing ovations, but the reports seemed to centre on what Polanski spends a lot of time trying to convince the world is his persecution.
Have a read of his frankly absurd interview in Paris Match, where he essentially says he shouldn’t be held accountable for his crimes because he still talks to the woman he had raped when she was a child, everyone is out to get him and, most telling of all, no-one cared about this stuff in the old days.
‘‘Polanski’s ‘Oscar’ divides elite world of French cinema,’’ reported The Guardian.
‘‘Roman Polanski: Actress walkout as he wins best director at French Oscars,’’ the BBC stated.
CNN at least had the grace to put the actresses’ protest first with: ‘‘Actresses walk out of French Oscars after Roman Polanski wins top awards’’.
The reality is that he’s a convicted child rapist and in the wake of the #MeToo movement more women have come forward with accusations against him, although he has denied them.
As if it wasn’t depressing enough, Twitter and the other usual online cesspits were full of ‘‘film enthusiasts’’ desperate to remind us ‘‘it was a long time ago’’, and that we should ‘‘let it go’’ because ‘‘it’s about the art not the artist’’, and besides ‘‘it was only statutory rape, not rape rape’’. (Yes, someone on Twitter actually said that.)
It’s hard to see Polanski’s laurels for J’Accuse ,a thinly disguised cypher for his own ‘‘troubles’’ that tells the tale of Jewish soldier Alfred Dreyfus who was accused, convicted and exiled for crimes he didn’t commit, as anything less than a slap on the derriere to all the bolshie women who’ve been furiously trying to drag the French film industry into the 21st century for the past few years.
Yes, it’s possible to divorce the art from the artist, and yes, redemption is possible, but neither of those things apply to an artist who makes selfserving ‘‘art’’ in an attempt to profit from his vulgar history, and who sees nothing in his sordid past that he needs redemption from. Actually, why am I even explaining this stuff? If you can’t understand why someone who admitted to drugging and raping a 13-year-old, then skipped town before he could pay for his crimes and now wallows in some sort of absurd fantasy where he’s the real victim, shouldn’t get standing ovations and trophies, then I can’t help you.
When Haenel walked out of the awards, she shouted one word, perfectly summing up what that win meant: ‘‘Shame.’’
Shame on the Academie des Arts et Techniques du Cinema, on Polanski for not vocally and frequently repenting the things he’s done, and on audiences for turning out in their droves to see Polanski’s films.
I hope the word rings in Polanski’s ears for the rest of his miserable life.
With all that off my chest, I’m psyched to tell you about the NZ French Film Festival.
Every year, it’s a chance to see some of the world’s finest, freshest film-making, delivered in one of the world’s most evocative languages.
This year, I’ll be seeing films directed by French-speaking women, first and foremost:
Swallows of Kabul, by Zabou Breitman and Elea Gobbe-Mevellec, is an animated feature about life under the Taliban in Afghanistan, with a trailer that will get you right in the feelings.
Breitman is appearing at Q&A sessions in Auckland, Wellington and Christchurch, so if you can get to one of those screenings, do it.
The Perfect Nanny by Lucie Borleteau (Fidelio: Alice’s Odyssey), looks really creepy, and just as thrilling.
The Dazzled, by Sarah Suco, takes aim at religious extremism as seen through the eyes of a 12-year-old girl who’s forced to live in a strict Catholic community with her family.
Finally, Zebras Life, a children’s feature-length animation by Isabelle Favez, is about accepting yourself and your differences.