In a prolific career that has touched numerous genres and seen him tackle a wide array of stories, François Ozon has made a name for himself as a filmmaker that can do nearly anything, granted it is something that falls within his capacities as one of the finest portrayers of the human condition currently working in the industry. His most recent film is Summer of 85 (French: Été 85), an intricately-woven melodrama with slight touches of psychological thriller and romantic comedy – and with the exception of a few small flaws scattered throughout, it serves as one of the most compelling modern romances of recent years, a beautifully-poetic ode to a number of relatable issues, such as falling in love, the process of coming to terms with one’s identity and, most importantly of all, the value of realizing that while time may be fleeting, memories are indelible. Ozon has always struck the most strident chords when he is working from something simple but meaningful, and while some of his more notable productions have been those that prioritize highly-stylised production and more labyrinthine stories, the stories that resound the most are those that are more personal and intimate, of which Summer of 85 is easily one of the most significant. It’s not a film without its minor shortcomings, but as is the case with many of the director’s films, these flaws are so minor, they gradually become woven into the narrative in such a way that they’re just as compelling. Whether through its shifting tone, very peculiar writing or it’s very idiosyncratic approach to looking at queer issues through the lens of the coming-of-age drama, Summer of 85 is certainly something to behold. Its boldness could’ve so easily been a factor that kept us at a distance, but it instead invites in and gives us a reason to celebrate, even if the general motivation of this film was far more serious than we’d expect based on a cursory glance.

While it may not be the definitive modern text on the subject (regardless of how much millenials try and insist it is), Call Me By Your Name truly changed the way literature-based films talk about queer issues, making it an area of storytelling that can be embraced by nearly anyone, made to be accessible in a way that doesn’t point out the deviancies in same-sex relationships, but rather celebrates the beauty of falling in love with a soul, rather than a particular body. Summer of 85 joins in a lineage of films that seem to follow this same blueprint, not in any way being the most original work on the subject, nor one that has anything particularly groundbreaking to convey, but rather a functions as a deeply moving odyssey into the psychology of two young people who go against the principles of the society around them, and the beliefs embedded within it, to realize their love, refusing to label themselves as anything other than a pair of curious souls that are not only experimenting with their own desires, but their entire identities in general, which makes quite a profound difference when we’re considering the various areas in which Summer of 85 is provoking discourse that has been ongoing as long as the subject of human sexuality has been a field of enquiry. Ozon isn’t seeking to resolve any of these archaic conflicts, nor is he hoping to provide insights into anything other than his own particular curiosities (as well as those of Aidan Chambers, whose novel Dance on My Grave serves as the basis for this film), giving us a glimpse into a particular time and place, and the dominant socio-cultural conventions that were held as sacrosanct, and which this film sought to dismantle for the sake of evoking a particular discussion on the limitless bounds of our identities, and how we question our own inner quandaries in the face of some disconcerting challenges that appear around us the moment we move away from what is considered normal.

Ozon’s decision to adapt a young adult novel that was published nearly four decades ago is a fascinating feat in itself, considering how timely the issues being explored here may be. This is clearly a deeply personal work to Ozon, who may not be representing his own life on screen, but rather reflecting on the experiences he had growing up in the time in which this film is set, as a young man who may not have been entirely sure of his own destiny, or the journey that would take him there. This is primarily the reason Summer of 85 works so well – putting aside some tonal inconsistencies and a few moments of artistic liberty that require us to suspend disbelief, there is a palpable sense of resonance coming on behalf of the director, who infuses every frame of this film with a passion that can only come from someone who deeply cared for this material. As a result, Summer of 85 isn’t going to be entirely free of problems, since some of Ozon’s choices often border on being somewhat bizarre, particularly in the first act, where the two main characters meet and fall in love, which can sometimes play as any traditional coming-of-age romance, condensed into the span of fifteen minutes. This doesn’t invalidate the film as a whole, since the rest of it is spent unpacking these first few moments, going in-depth into the emotions that were felt, the feelings that were caught and the passion that was evoked in what is clearly portrayed as an enchanting sequence of events. This is a heartfelt elegy to those who have fallen in and out of love, had their hearts broken and experienced the despair of giving yourself to another person, only to realize that nothing can last forever, even the most soaring songs of the heart, which is difficult to reconcile when you have surrendered yourself so completely to the pursuit of being in love. The manner in which Ozon is capable of evoking such strong emotions in the matter of minutes, and his deft ability to complement each one with a meaningful discussion later on, immediately hints at something very special lurking beneath Summer of 85.

Ozon was clearly not attempting to make something entirely authentic – Summer of 85 was never designed to be a love story as written by the Victorian romanticists, whose work often serves as the basis for this kind of heartfelt, subdued romantic drama (particularly those that also function as period pieces), but rather a deeply meaningful series of agitations on reality. The film leaps between two alternating periods – the downbeat aftermath of a tragedy, and the earlier period of nothing but effervescent joy which ultimately led up to it, with the two sewn together through the perspective of the protagonist, who is relaying these events directly to the viewer, which we later discover takes the form of a narrative he is writing to describe this particular summer, and the various situations he find himself in throughout it. This isn’t the first time Ozon has used the boundaries of fiction and reality as a propellant for his films, and it certainly explains how the storytelling can occasionally come across as somewhat erratic – in many ways, Summer of 85 feels like a spiritual successor to In the House, another film that uses the concept of recording memory as a platform to discuss constructed realities. The concept of the unreliable narrator is creatively used in the character of Alex, whose position as both the protagonist of his own story, and quiet observer of the stories of others, is the primary factor in the central conflict that leads to the tragic event, which we’re told of from the first moment. It’s a heightened, and occasionally quite bewildering, way of approaching such a story – but Ozon’s control of the narrative, and his ability to plumb it for the most sincere emotions, while still employing a very subversive discussion on how we construct certain realities from warped memories, is admirable, and makes for some truly compelling storytelling, in a film that is squarely focused on the value of weaving tales from the fragments of memory.

Late in the film, where the main character is asked if everything he wrote is true or if there was some degree of exaggeration, his simple response that he “tried to tell it the best [he] could, in detail”, shows that this is a film that isn’t against demonstrating the inherent manipulation that goes into the stories we tell others and, most notably, the ones we tell ourselves. In the same discussion, Alex admits that, through the process of recording the events as he saw them, and capturing the emotions he felt, he became a character in a story, rather than just being a writer relaying events – it’s a simple provocation of memory, which we see here is far more than just verbatim glimpses into the past, but rather an actively vacillating series of moments with which one is continuously negotiating, trying to find the truth amongst the innumerable emotions that come about when revisiting the past. Summer of 85 can be divided into three distinct segments – the submergence into this world, the construction of a particular narrative, and the gradual disintegration of it as something that can be questioned, giving it a jagged edge that may prevent it from fitting in perfectly – but had Ozon been truly committed to making a film simply about two young men falling in love over the course of a summer and discovering themselves along the way, there’s no doubt that this is exactly what we’d have been given. There’s always something far more complex simmering beneath the surface – a vaguely-sinister sense of elusive mystery, of which we know the answer, but where the process of getting there is far more complex, unfolding as the film progresses. It traverses some very dark territory – the juxtaposition between the sunny beaches of seaside France, and the gloomy interiors of the government buildings that the narrative oscillates between, makes for an unexpectedly jarring experience that would’ve been unsettling had it not been guided by someone with as firm a vision as Ozon, who carefully curates a story that samples from a few different genres, using them as tools to quite simply tell a story that is simultaneously truthful and constructed, showing how these concepts may not be mutually exclusive in the first place, and how memory can be far more complex than we imagine.

As is often the case with a film by Ozon, it’s far too easy to get carried away with abstract discussions on the theoretical roots of the work. However, if we put the academic ramblings aside, and focus on it as solely a film that had a particular story to tell, Summer of 85 is just as much of a triumph. This is essentially a film about falling in love, and the director makes sure that every frame of this film is seething with passion. The romance at the centre of the film is truly stunning – at its most basic level, the characters of Alex and David are the embodiment of the different stages of discovering one’s sexuality. The former is young and impressionable, not sure of where he is headed, or who he truly is supposed to be. The latter is the image of confidence, exuding a cocksure energy that helps his new friend and prospective beau discover his identity. The film is built on the beautiful chemistry between the two leads, and their story is strong enough to have been more than enough to propel this film forward – and Félix Lefebvre and Benjamin Voisin are both incredible, playing wildly different characters that may appear to be polar opposites on the surface, but complement each other perfectly (as do the performances by the actresses playing their respective mothers – Valeria Bruni Tedeschi gives one of the most wildly irreverent performances of the year, while Isabelle Nanty is far more subdued and quiet, yet both are just as effective in showing different sides of motherhood, even with slightly limited time on screen). The film itself may not focus entirely on the height of their relationship, since there is a major event midway through the film that immediately takes us out of this sentimental, joyful romance, and alerts us to something much darker – but it works well, particularly because the preceding hour was filled with a buoyancy that convinced us that the choices made in regards to these characters were authentic and meaningful, rather than just a way of moving the film forward.

It may not be the most delightful foray into the realm of the romantic drama, but the film’s intrepidity to tell a story that dares to be different is absolutely admirable, and makes up for some of the more liberal decisions made on the part of the director and his very distinct approach to the concept of love, which has rarely been presented in more of a complex, unflinching light than it is here. Summer of 85 strikes us as something that can’t quite be described in any particular way, constantly evolving as it goes along – it may create the sensation that it is unstable and erratic, but when we look at how these tonal shifts actually contribute to the narrative, we realize how effective they are, and how they provide nuance to a story that would otherwise be a sweet but unremarkable period piece about two young men finding themselves surrendering to their desires over a pleasant summer. There is a viscerality to this film that speaks to the central theme of submitting to the insatiable emotions that we all experience at some point – and its not only carnal desire that is the focus, but also trauma, which is just as important a theme in this film, especially in the later stages, where the romance begins to come across as somewhat more complex than we’d initially imagine. A multifaceted work with an abundance of heart, and a very strong sense of emotional resonance on several subjects, Summer of 85 is a complex piece of filmmaking that may sometimes come across as impenetrable and quite disconcerting, but also has a particular edge that makes it something truly captivating once we are immersed in this world – and even at its most challenging, there is something so beautifully ethereal about a film that dedicates itself almost entirely to the pursuit of describing the various sensations associated with love, which is truly valuable and makes for an incredibly special film.