Marie (Charlotte Rampling) is an English teacher who goes on holiday with her intellectual husband, Jean (Bernard Cremer). While she sunbathes, he goes for a swim – and never returns. Suddenly confronted by his mysterious disappearance, Marie is thrown into a quandary, where she wonders whether he drowned by accident, committed suicide, or left her due to their marriage being pleasant but relatively loveless by this point. The body is not initially recovered, which gives Marie the chance to genuinely wallow in her denial, refusing to believe that her husband is dead and that he is still alive somewhere. Her mind begins to trick her into believing that he is manifesting before her in their apartment, where he quietly watches her as she attempts to move on, and come to terms with the fact that all evidence points to her husband having perished, even if she finds it difficult to believe. She tries to find a way to exist after such a tragedy, including starting a passionate affair with a younger man, and distracting herself with her work, but it all amounts to nothing, as Marie’s fragile state means she will never truly be able to let go of the memory of Jean, regardless of how hard she tries to forget about him.

There’s an underlying elegance to Under the Sand (French: Sous le sable), just one of the many remarkably intimate dramas made by François Ozon, a director whose work has always been intent on exploring the roots of the human condition. In this film, Ozon endeavours to represent grief in a way only he knows how – through sophisticated storytelling, and a narrative that makes a substantial impact, even if the story it conveys is relatively straightforward. Combine this with some of the best work by one of the greatest actresses to ever work in arthouse cinema, and you have a true masterwork in Under the Sand, a film that captivates the audience with its flourishes of mystery to a beautifully poignant drama, and breaks our heart through its frank depiction of loss and the experience of having to say goodbye to someone long before you thought you’d have to. The film may be one of the director’s more underrated pieces, but all of Ozon’s wonderful idiosyncrasies and visionary tendencies come through in Under the Sand, which is uncompromising in both its despair and optimism, as well as its sometimes brutal portrayal of the grieving process, which may not be particularly hopeful at first glance, but eventually turns into one of the most profoundly moving representations of mourning and coming to terms with the fragility to life.

We’re all undoubtedly aware of the Kübler-Ross Model, whereby we go through various emotional and psychological stages throughout the process of grief. It is a concept that has been well-utilized in every facet of life, especially in literature, where it can be seen as a framework for some frank and honest depictions of dealing with loss or anticipating it. However, of the five stages it promises, one that is rarely explored in much detail is denial – there are various reasons for it, but the most likely factor behind its relative exclusion from artistic representations is because its a stage that is one of the hardest, both to witness and to feel. Anyone who has ever experienced loss will tell you about the denial that comes with realizing that something has happened – and whether momentary or long-term, there’s a doubt that comes with grief that can be absolutely harrowing. This seems to be the point that Under the Sand explores, with Ozon constructing the entire film around this one stage of grief, where we witness a woman living in perpetual doubt that her husband has died, refusing to accept even the most explicit of facts presented to her that shows that Jean has perished. We can do a deep psychological analysis of Marie and her ardent belief that he hasn’t died, but we’d struggle to get to the core of her mental state, because while the film is very open with its portrayal of emotion, Marie remains an enigma, someone who is so shaken by the possibility of her husband dying, all she can do is deny it ever happened.

Under the Sand approaches this theme in a way that is both subtle and profound – Ozon does well in planting doubt into the mind of every viewer, so that we ourselves start to question the truth, much in the same way that Marie does. The facts all seem to be there – there’s very little that can be argued against Jean having died by drowning, as there really is no other explanation. Yet, the evidence seems so inconsequential through Marie’s ardent refusal to back down from her position – likely a result of a lack of closure at the body not being found for a considerable amount of time (and even when it is found, the post-death processes still incite doubt). Ozon does an interesting thing with this film in not ever actually giving the truth directly, but rather alluding to it in a way that confirms it, but not without still provoking doubt in some way. It takes a masterful filmmaker to manoeuvre the audience into the mind of the protagonist, but through his deep understanding of the psychological complexities that tend to arise in these kinds of situations, the director crafts an elegant portrayal of grief that is never heavy-handed, nor sentimental without substance. It is a profoundly moving representation of mourning that is often quite harrowing, but also beautiful in how it navigates the panoply of difficult emotions to find the simple core, which is an astounding achievement for a film that could’ve been extremely overwrought with only the most marginal deficiency in how it portrays loss.

In realizing the role of Marie, Ozon casts Charlotte Rampling, who is one of the most extraordinary performers to ever work in film. Despite her flirtations with the mainstream, Rampling has always been in allegiance with the arthouse, from the genesis of her career, where her beguiling talents made her someone who could play any role, from a tragic protagonist to the duplicitous femme fatale, and everything in between. Her collaborations with Ozon have been amongst her best work, as there are few directors who are as generous to his performers as he is. He frequently captures the raw brilliance underlying Rampling throughout this film, catching her at her most vulnerable, portraying her at her most defiant. Her unique talents also work well with a film like Under the Sand, which doesn’t always thrive on the spoken word, but the moments in which silence says the most – and considering Rampling possesses an expressivity that very few performers have ever been able to master (just focus on her eyes in any of the scenes of introspection, and you’ll see a performance that doesn’t need anything other than the actress’ soulful style to tell a story), she was a perfect match for a film like Under the Sand. It’s a deeply meaningful character study of a woman dealing with death and the emotions that come with it, and the way Rampling internalizes the broad emotions, and conveys them in a way that is sophisticated but heartbreaking, leads me to say this really is some of her very best work – she has rarely been this fragile and intense, and it stands as a really terrific performance from an actress who has perpetually proven herself to be amongst the finest of her generation.

Under the Sand is a powerful film – it isn’t easy to represent grief in a way that is moving without being sentimental or saccharine. The film can sometimes be extremely harsh, even bordering on overt nihilism occasionally, especially in how it portrays the plight of a character who is frequently in denial over something that is quite clearly true. Yet, the difficult subject matter is remedied by the gorgeous performance from Rampling, who conveys every emotion with such quiet ferocity, and a story that may be uncomfortable, but is ultimately brimming with meaning. It is a small, intimate film that never sacrifices its simplicity for the sake of making a statement. François Ozon is a tragically undervalued director, and whether making films that tend towards being more broad in scope or concept, or smaller pieces like Under the Sand, which only intend to explore the roots of the human condition, he’s often very successful, and shows us a side of ourselves that we weren’t all that aware of before. Meaningful, meditative and beautifully complex without being convoluted, this film is a triumph, a difficult but poignant descent into grief that is more honest than most films on this subject tend to be, and more powerful than one would expect. Under the Sand is essentially a film about how death can sometimes remind us of the true value of living, which is a cliched but important message that this film portrays all too well.