Despite running at a diminutive duration of 26 minutes, Un chant d’amour remains one of the most important films in the history of experimental cinema. The only official directorial effort by esteemed French author and playwright Jean Genet, who undertook an impressive but dangerous challenge of telling a story centred around queer issues, it is an absolutely spellbinding short film that proves some of the most influential works of art are those that come in the smallest forms. Each moment in this film is absolutely essential, working towards a broader message that remains revolutionary, even by contemporary standards. The film, which title translates to “song of love” (but loses the emotional quality evoked by the original French) is a fascinating and disquieting glimpse into a small section of French society, filtered through the often abstract lens of Genet’s vision, which is centred almost entirely on working towards conveying a particular message. It may be uncomfortable, and even slightly disturbing (some of the shots in this film are truly unsettling, terrifying us in a way that only the most visceral films tend to do), but it has inspired countless other filmmakers, standing as inarguably one of the most important short films to ever be produced, not only for the themes it focuses on (which were beyond shocking by the standards of the time, and considered distasteful at the very least), but also for the number of artists Genet inspired by this unabashedly honest queer masterpiece that never seems all that willing to settle for anything other than the most insightful and honest commentary, by way of a truly demented artistic mind and his unconventional approach to storytelling.

It seems almost ironic that Un chant d’amour was directed by Genet, who was a writer known for his beautiful prose and complex dialogue, many of his works remaining pivotal works of European literature to this very day. One would think that the sole directorial outing for such an original voice would be a verbose, elaborately-written manifesto on any of the several themes that informed his work. However, Un chant d’amour is made in complete silence – there is not a single word of dialogue spoken by any of the characters, and depending on which print one watches, there is a complete absence of a soundtrack as well, leaving the film entirely silent, a strange but effective choice. Overanalysis will lead us to say that Un chant d’amour was designed in such a way to imply the removal of the voice of the homosexual population, who many felt had been muted from having their issues explored. A more practical reading will focus on how the lack of dialogue forces Genet out of his comfort zone, where his most powerful tool (his exceptional way with words) is replaced by the purely visual. This is a good place to start with this film – Un chant d’amour is a film primarily built on visual stimuli, with the imagery speaking louder than words, which mirrors the subtle, discrete methods employed by the queer community at the time to satiate their desires while avoiding detection. The entirely wordless communication between the two protagonists is far more interesting – whether it be cryptic knocking on their shared wall, or the achingly beautiful image of the two inmates sharing a cigarette through a small hole between their cells, there is a fascinating quality to this subtle but effective approach, which ultimately prevents the film from being isolated to a particular time or place, proving that this is a universal story that Genet is so intent on telling.

Un chant d’amour certainly inspires quite a visceral reaction from the first moment – the framing device (whereby a sexually-repressed prison guard watches two inmates communicate their shared lust through silent means), situates us in this vaguely nightmarish world that is driven by the most brutal eroticism imaginable. Like the guard, we are voyeurs into the lives of these two characters, peering into their prison-based affair without becoming involved – we are mere observers, the guard serving as our surrogate (or at least for the majority of the film – one of the most shocking moments comes when Genet ventures into the realm of the fantastical, in which this guard succumbs to his own desires, which were only made more intense by his frequent observations of these two star-crossed lovers). Setting this film in a prison gives Un chant d’amour an added level of commentary, since it focuses on men who have been secluded from society. We have no insights into who they are, or their lives prior to these brief moments in which we observe their distant affair – and as a result, they function as broader representatives of the entire queer community in postwar Europe, where more social progress was being made, but not amongst those who deviated from the status quo in terms of identity. It’s almost as if Genet is portraying these men as having only committed the crime of simply existing within their own unique identities, which sadly remains a cause for punishment in many extreme cases.

This film is often extremely explicit, with Genet using his own identity as a gay man in the slightly more conservative French society to tell a story where sexuality is used to explore the tortured lives of the queer population. If it had not looked as dated as it did (while still being extraordinarily beautiful and detailed in its own way), you’d struggle to believe Un chant d’amour was made in the year 1950 – it’s not the first film focused on queer issues (but it is one of the pioneering works in terms of directly addressing it, rather than merely using implication to get the message across). The seclusion from society represented in these main characters hearkens back to the film’s deep cultural message, which is all about the director endeavouring to find beauty amongst the most savage individuals, or at least those who were perceived as such by the general population. There’s a poeticism to Un chant d’amour that consistently works alongside the boundary-pushing bravery embedded in telling this story (if you can consider this dizzying array of images as such), which contrasts sharply with the grotesque, harrowing conditions depicted here. Perhaps a squalid prison isn’t normally considered fertile ground for a striking film about romance and desire, but Genet’s genius clearly was more than sufficient in allowing him to subvert expectations. This film represented a very different kind of passion, one that is best described as a beautiful provocation, constantly challenging conventions in a way that feels constructive and insightful. It’s a formative entry into the avant-garde movement that was gradually becoming more prominent, at the time, where daring filmmakers used their own internal quandaries to tell stories that convey a deeper meaning about society, taking risks that no one working in the mainstream would dare to take, all for the sake of showing a different kind of reality, and becoming highly influential in the process.