'Francofonia' is occasionally juvenile but has a sinuous grace
In 2002, Russian director Alexander Sokurov made 鈥淩ussian Ark,鈥� a one-of-a-kind movie shot in St. Petersburg鈥檚 Hermitage Museum and filmed in a single unbroken take. Now it鈥檚 the Louvre鈥檚 turn. 鈥淔rancofonia,鈥� while not shot continuously, has a sinuous grace that recalls that earlier film.聽
Part documentary, part reverie, 鈥淔rancofonia鈥� is about the Louvre during the German occupation in World War II, starting in the summer of 1940. We see clips of the German Army marching into Paris, with Hitler surveying the Eiffel Tower and the Champs-脡lys茅es en route to the Louvre 鈥� the jewel in the Nazi crown. Sokurov interlaces these newsreels with scenes of himself at his editing console, as his voice, querying and meditative, supplies a murmurous recitation of musings.聽
His chief subject here is how great art becomes the spoils of war. The Germans intended to plunder the Louvre, just as conquerors in all wars from time immemorial have done with the art of defeated nations. Sokurov stages scenes inside the Louvre of Napoleon striding through the galleries announcing 鈥淐鈥檈st moi鈥� every time he confronts his visage in a portrait. It鈥檚 a clunky conceit, but then, at just the right moment, Sokurov has the emperor announce, 鈥淚 went to war for art,鈥� and it has the resonance of a manifesto.
When Sokurov (who had full access to filming inside the Louvre) shows us Assyrian sculptures and friezes, the point is made without any underlining that the plunder of ancient artifacts in the Middle East (think Syria and Islamic State) is only the latest in a litany of such outrages.
The historical reenactments in 鈥淔rancofonia鈥� primarily involve the relationship between Jacques Jaujard (Louis-Do de Lencquesaing), the Louvre鈥檚 director, who stayed on, unlike so many other French civil servants, when the Germans showed up, and Count Franziskus Wolff-Metternich (Benjamin Utzerath), whom Hitler trusted to supervise the dismantling of the art collection.聽
Jaujard was prepared for the invasion. The museum鈥檚 most renowned works had already been transferred to ch芒teaux located out of bombing range. (Wolff-Metternich had done as much in Germany with its own art treasures.) As a result, the Louvre that Wolff-Metternich inspects is essentially emptied out.
What unites the two men is a love of art, not as a victor鈥檚 spoils but as the cultural hallmark 鈥� the heart and soul 鈥� of a nation. Wolff-Metternich, in fact, did much to keep Hitler away from the Louvre鈥檚 trove and risked opprobrium for his subterfuges.聽
It鈥檚 often debated whether, in times of war, the rescuing of art should be discussed in the same breath with the rescuing of people, and Sokurov does not enter into that debate. But his love for great art is inextricably bound up with his love for the people who have created it, and for the legacy that art bestows on future generations. When he shows us the 鈥淢ona Lisa鈥� or 鈥淭he Winged Victory of Samothrace,鈥� or a 9,000-year-old statue of a man, his presentations need no political justification.
Sokurov is a playful philosopher. If his playfulness is sometimes juvenile 鈥� as in those Napoleon scenes, or, worse, in the scenes of an actress playing Marianne, the spirit of France, exhorting, 鈥淔reedom, Equality, Brotherhood鈥� 鈥� at least he鈥檚 not stuffy. His little capers loosen up the proceedings and make his underlying seriousness more inviting. A philosopher with a sense of humor is a rarity. At one point, he says to us on the soundtrack, 鈥淵ou aren鈥檛 tired of listening to me yet?鈥� For me, the answer was always, no. Grade: B+ (This film is not rated.)
