They say imitation is the most sincere form of flattery – but for François Ozon, it has never only been about paying tribute to his artistic heroes, but infusing his films with a celebratory spirit that vividly praises their work, getting to the heart of what makes each one of them such important influences in his own journey. He is one of the few contemporary directors who has not only been extremely transparent about his points of reference, but actively cites artists as being influences in his development – and one of the most frequently referenced is Rainer Werner Fassbinder, who has always been something of a spectre that has lingered over most of Ozon’s work, from his debut as a more provocative director, right to the point of maturing into one of Europe’s most important cinematic storytellers, maturing into his identity through engaging with his own existential quandaries in relation to those incited by his creative idols. Many of his films contain homages and references to Fassbinder’s work, whether extracting small plot details or particular themes, with Ozon being quite liberal in using his body of work as an opportunity to expand on some of these ideas. However, its in his more direct adaptations of Fassbinder’s art that we find Ozon doing some of his most compelling work – previously, he had adapted Water Drops on Burning Rocks into a small, little-seen but still extremely captivating film, and over two decades later, he has returned in the form of Peter von Kant, in which he takes Fassbinder’s masterpiece The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant and loosely adapts it to fit a very specific set of ideas that become clear as we make our way through this film. This is not merely a remake of an iconic text, but an engaging, captivating recontextualization of the major themes that simmered beneath the surface of that vibrant, harrowing character study that defined Fassbinder as an artist, taking this material and proving that even after half a century, these ideas are as harrowing and resonant as ever, and perhaps even more so when filtered through Ozon’s critically-thinking, profoundly philosophical examination of life and death through the eyes of an artist who seems to be teetering dangerously close on a breakdown, both mentally and creatively.

As a filmmaker who is driven by an extraordinary sense of artistic integrity above anything else, Ozon would never be cheap or unoriginal enough to just take an existing text, switch the gender of the main characters and pass it off as a homage, especially not when the source material is by someone to whom he holds an enormous amount of respect. However, his reverence does not restrict him from freely adapting the material to fit his own specific artistic agenda, and Peter von Kant is certainly not bound by the original text in a way that precludes it from making certain changes that may be vastly different from what Fassbinder intended to comment on, but which serve their own purpose under Ozon’s direction. Obviously, the most important aspect of this film is that Ozon takes the story of a self-destructive fashion designer and not only changes the gender, but their entire profession and trajectory, and ultimately makes it very clear that Peter von Kant is inspired by Fassbinder himself. The main character is a clear surrogate for the esteemed director, a German filmmaker whose artistic vision is sometimes hidden behind a hazy cloud of substance abuse and narcissistic tendencies, his desires often overtaking his very visceral need to create works that reflect the world as he sees it. As a result, Ozon intentionally crafts a film that serves as a metafictional commentary on the art of creation as a whole – it’s rare to find a film that not only adapts an existing work, but does so in a way that it doesn’t change the overarching themes, but rather reconfigures them to be a critical commentary on the original artist in very explicit ways. This is quite simply not a film that could have been made by anyone who didn’t have the most sincere reverence for Fassbinder, which includes being comfortable enough with this work that they would be willing to actively engage with not only the text itself, but the person behind it, who Ozon respects and adores enough to craft a poignant and complex character study, albeit one that doesn’t place him on a pedestal, viewing him as some saintly figure, but rather someone whose life and career was mired in enough controversy and erratic behaviour to warrant a scrutinous but still very reverential examination, which is the primary driving force behind this film.

It’s difficult to imagine anyone other than Ozon being capable of directly addressing not only the major thematic principles of The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant (which operates on such a specific set of existential guidelines), but also the subtext that Fassbinder placed in the original play that were undeniably self-reflective and based on his own complicated relationship with his art, based on his own psychological and existential struggles, which was as vital to his stories as his fascination with the outside world. Peter von Kant is a film that frequently attempts to look inward, investigating the life of an artist through some of his daily challenges, and how they ultimately influenced his perspective, and shape his art, which came sometimes be jovial and upbeat, or be filled to the brim with a kind of quietly devastating darkness that is all too familiar to those that have ever struggled with depression or addiction, both of which being unfortunate components of Fassbinder’s daily life. The protagonist as the heart of Peter von Kant navigates his surroundings with caution – we may only see him in a domestic setting (the film obviously retains the original play’s technique of taking place in only one location, the titular character’s apartment, and focusing on the stream of visitors that come in and out the course of the year in which the film transpire), but this serves to be the stage for his existential struggles, every moment spent plumbing the emotional depths of his life and the choices he made, and how everything ultimately ends up becoming part of his creative identity. This ultimately results in a hauntingly beautiful examination of art through the eyes of someone whose entire raison d’etre is to create, but where the artistic expression doesn’t come easily, and instead is drawn from the deepest recesses of the human mind. Many of the dominant themes throughout this film are drawn from the story occurring at the intersection of identity and art, showing how they are inextricably connected, and that while some may be able to compartmentalize them, a true artist gleans inspiration and influence from every aspect of life, with this film serving to be a truly unflinching depiction of the process of creation, as seen through the eyes of someone whose entire life has become a series of moments that inspire his art, almost to the point where his urge to create begins to guide his entire existence, a challenging but fascinating choice that Ozon makes in exploring Fassbinder’s life under the guise of the Peter von Kant character.

This is the foundation on which Ozon constructs Peter von Kant, which is one of his more provocative films of recent years, in more ways than one. Credit must certainly be given to Denis Ménochet, who portrays the titular character and proves precisely why he is one of the most versatile, interesting actors working in European cinema at the moment. There is something about his hulking physique and incredible expressivity that makes the performance so powerful. Even though he was a well-known man about town, and someone whose life was never entirely obscured to the point where he was completely anonymous in his lifestyle, it feels like we never truly knew Fassbinder – and attempts to investigate his life in previous works have not been particularly successful, because they all uniformly portray him as some enfant terrible (which was even the title of one of the more controversial attempts to craft a biographical film about him), someone whose life was driven by a fatal combination of artistic ambition and hedonistic desires. The fatal mistake those stories make, but which Peter von Kant easily rectifies, is that they rarely viewed him as a human being with the same urges, desires and insecurities as any other person. The character of Peter von Kant is someone who has several imperfections – he is erratic and treats those around him with nothing but umbrage. However, his passion has always been his most important commodity, which is why those who enter his orbit struggle to depart. Ménochet is just extraordinary in the part – every moment he is on screen feels like a revelatory experience, as if we are rediscovering Fassbinder through this character, who inarguably does have enough of his own unique qualities to be considered at least partially a construction. He is joined by a small but profoundly gifted cast that includes newcomers like Khalil Gharbia and Stéfan Crépon, who have their own moments of inextricable brilliance, and the legendary Isabelle Adjani (whose rendition of “Each Man Kills the Thing He Loves” is one of the most hauntingly beautiful pieces of music released in the past few years) and, in a wonderful surprise at the very end of the film, Hanna Schygulla, one of Fassbinder’s own muses, and someone who perhaps knew him better than anyone else, her presence here perhaps seeming very self-referential, but still leaving an enormous impression. Yet, they all circle back to Ménochet, whose performance is the narrative and emotional anchor of this film, and the entire story starts to coalesce around his astonishing work, which becomes almost as important to the identity of this film as the directorial flourishes that Ozon introduces throughout.

However, as much as Peter von Kant may be a character-driven film, it is important to not erase the work that Ozon does behind the camera, beyond his astonishing screenplay. Even in his most small-scale film, he is a director that acknowledges the importance of making them look visually striking, and whether or not this veers towards aesthetically pleasing or more disturbing varies between the films – but it is almost undeniable that every one of his films seems to be driven by his incredible eye for detail, which manifests in every frame in some way. Peter von Kant finds Ozon being given an opportunity to create something very different from anything he did previously, at least visually. What is important to acknowledge is that, despite being quite an effective adaptation of The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant in terms of how it adapts its themes to reflect Fassbinder’s artist process, this film doesn’t restrict itself to being identical in terms of how it is executed. It slightly expands on the environment, staying within one location, but showing other parts of this apartment, which allows for some variety and prevents the intentional repetition that defined the original material, which was one of the elements that Ozon seemed intent to set aside when making this film, creating a broader space in which this drama can transpire. Visually and tonally, the director seems to be drawing inspiration from another influential queer filmmaker, the iconic Pedro Almodóvar, whose use of bright and jarring colours, as well as the distinctive ability to transform kitsch into art, seems to be an undercurrent behind the realization of this film (and considering Ozon has made it very clear that he draws from innumerable sources when making his films, it wouldn’t be surprising to discover that there are some references to several queer filmmakers peppered throughout the film), and part of the creative process that resulted in this astonishing work. The methods that Ozon utilizes to create the world in which Peter and his friends inhabit are striking – he takes elements from the original Fassbinder production (including “Midas and Bacchus”, the distinctive painting that serves as the eye-catching backdrop), but also adds new components that make every frame of this film incredibly beautiful. His meticulous attention to detail is striking, and only someone like Ozon could create something so distinctly maximalist in style, but yet have it rendered as inexplicably gorgeous, in a way that even slightly adjusting the visual aspects to be less jarring would impact the entire identity of the film. Peter’s world is colourful and excessive, which is a reflection of his mind, and even beyond the astonishing narrative that plumbs the emotional depths of his existence, the film is a beautiful and strikingly creative manifesto that understands the importance of strong realization of its ideas on both a narrative and visual level.

Peter von Kant is, by design, a film that is meant to stir a reaction – this is not an easy film in terms of some of the themes that it explores (although Ozon’s poetic style of directing would easily mislead you into thinking otherwise), and many of its ideas are addressed without any kind of filter, leaving us with only the most raw and vulnerable emotions, which is one of the traits that Ozon regularly employs, having inherited it from Fassbinder, who was not afraid to create hostile situations to convey a particular message. Even as a work of LGBTQIA+ cinema, Peter von Kant is an enormous achievement – it is one of Ozon’s most explicitly queer films (and he has never been averse to exploring gay desire, which is one of the defining qualities of quite a few of his greatest works), which only makes sense for a film inspired by a landmark entry into the genre. This is far more than just a riff on Fassbinder’s life, formed by taking one of his iconic works and switching the gender and passing it off as a reinterpretation of those major themes from a different perspective. Instead, Peter von Kant is a playful and blisteringly funny examination of an artist whose life has grown far too connected to his art, and where his entire existence circles around his need to create, to the point where it impedes on his relationships and causes him to lose many of the people who are closest to him. It builds on the oscillation between carnal desire and intellectual stimulation, and throughout the film we encounter ideas that dare us to look beyond the surface and instead embrace the fact that life is ultimately unpredictable, and that art so intrinsically tied to one’s identity is going to be far more personal. It’s a difficult film to discuss, because Ozon is such an extraordinarily gifted filmmaker, but his ability to create something that feels so challenging and unorthodox means that mere description will never be sufficient for a film such as this. Poetic and unconventional, and achingly beautiful in how it examines the interconnected elements of the human condition and the artistic process, Peter von Kant is a truly extraordinary work that lingers on long after we have walked away, and is perhaps the closest we will ever come to truly understanding Fassbinder, which seems appropriate for a film made by one of the esteemed provocateur’s most dedicated disciples.