There are some films that don’t only allow for ambiguity, they outright encourage it, since there is nothing quite like a strong and impenetrable story to keep audiences engaged. One of the most interesting examples of this comes in the form of Swimming Pool, the remarkable and highly-questionable erotic thriller by François Ozon in his first primarily English-language film, who (along with co-screenwriters Emmanuèle Bernheim and Joseph Kelly) tells the story of a misanthropic British writer known for a long string of highly successful crime novels that have brought her wealth and fame, but at the cost of the artistic nourishment she feels she needs. On her publisher’s insistence, she voyages to his remote home in rural France, where she is told she will be able to spend her days in almost complete isolation, which should give her the peace and freedom she so desperately craves – until an unexpected visitor arrives and changes the course of this supposedly tranquil holiday. Ozon, who has always been one of the great filmmakers of his generation, puts his talents to good use in this film, effortlessly weaving together concept, form and tone into one compelling but inexplicably strange psychological thriller that leaps into the mind of a woman whose entire existence is called into question by a mysterious stranger who seems to wield a very sinister set of secrets. This all sets the stage for a fascinating character study that uses the complexity of a great crime novel, and the stunning beauty of one of the most gorgeous locations in Europe, to create an unforgettable and often deeply unsettling narrative that has only managed to remain as complex and evocative, two decades since its release.

There’s a cynicism to Swimming Pool that may take unexpecting viewers by surprise – anyone who is familiar with Ozon’s work will know that even his most upbeat films tend to carry a level of insidious complexity, whether it be in the stories being told, or the kinds of people represented. Here, we have the tale of a bitter woman, who has grown so jaded from her success, the only way she can feel somewhat normal is by retreating into near-complete isolation – her departure from the hustle and bustle of the city does has much good for her as it does the people that surround her. There’s something very interesting about how Ozon uses the character of Sarah to curate his vision of someone who has attained so much success, her only choice is to forcibly change her surroundings in the hopes of adding meaning into a life that supposedly didn’t require change, but would benefit from it solely because it allows her to expand on her perspective, which has grown very sardonic over time – and the level of sarcastic humour and very vitriolic characterization makes the film a very intentionally dark comedy, a cautionary tale about someone allowing fame to become a burden. There’s a version of Swimming Pool that is much more positive and endearing, with a likeable protagonist and a very compelling adventure – but this would have come at the expense of a truly insightful and wickedly perverse psychosexual drama that feels like it is drawn directly from the most wonderfully sinister recesses of the human condition. Ozon has a knack for these kinds of stories, with his fanciful forays into the more sadistic side of humanity often yielding incredible results, many of which are formed into absolutely riveting stories of perversion and emotional hostility that can make audiences suitably uncomfortable, but in a way that is at the very least creative and actively engaging.

After having given Charlotte Rampling, inarguably one of the finest actresses of her generation, the role of a lifetime just a few years earlier in Under the Sand, Ozon resumes his creative collaboration with the screen icon, casting her in the extremely compelling role of Sarah Morton, a woman who has been driven to the point of complete existential exhaustion as a result of the demands of being someone whose work is appreciated by the exact audience she wishes to avoid. Rampling is always incredibly likeable, which makes the fact that she is playing as despicable a character as Sarah so intriguing – she brings humanity into this jaded middle-aged crone, and finds the nuance where a lesser performer may have leaned into the nastiness. It’s a perfomance propelled by the small details – Rampling and Ozon don’t need to explicitly describe her intentions, and instead allow the more subtle movements and actions to speak for themselves. In the wordless moments, she is absolutely transcendent, while in those in which she converses with other characters, she brings a perfectly tempered combination of intensity and sensitivity, allowing her fellow actors to have moments of genuine brilliance as well. Most of the film is shared with Ludivine Sagnier, who may not be as good as Rampling in terms of capturing the underlying complexity of this character (perhaps intentionally), but she certainly does carry herself with a certain joie de vivre that sharply contrasts with her co-star’s more brooding and cynical sensibilities. The pair have remarkable chemistry, almost to the point where we start to wonder if it is manifesting into something of a romance – but the ambiguities present at the heart of the film are far more intriguing, and the two leads (as well as the supporting cast, which include the likes of Charles Dance and Marc Fayolle) carry the film through these more vague moments.

There’s something very peculiar about how Ozon approaches the narrative aspects of the story. On a cursory glance, we’d think that this was a relatively conventional psychological thriller, the kind we often found produced by European auteurs, in which we encounter seemingly ordinary protagonists who carry deep secrets, which gradually start to manifest, normally in the most achingly beautiful and tranquil settings. This is where Swimming Pool starts, but as it goes on, it gradually unravels, revealing itself to be a much more complex exercise than we initially thought. Rampling is understandably excellent when it comes to conveying these very intricate details, as was evident in her previous collaboration with the director. Something about this film is very distinct, since it carries a quality of being far more invested in capturing a specific atmosphere than it is telling a coherent story. The narrative is less of a direct story, and more a series of moments woven together by Ozon’s fascinating approach to constructing his vision of what a truly malignant holiday would be like for someone who doesn’t warrant the rest and relaxation normally found in these stories. It’s a pitch-black comedy, but one that derives its humour from the almost silent malice that pulsates throughout the film – Ozon has made his fair share of controversial and bleak films (especially those earlier in his career, where he was genuinely quite provocative), but his most interesting acts of rebellion are making films that appear conventional on the surface, but actually have a much deeper meaning, which manifests as we slowly become more immersed in the story. It’s a daring method, and something only a filmmaker as gifted as Ozon could achieve, so it makes sense that it has remained quite a memorable film since its inception.

Swimming Pool is a strange curio of a film – it’s made by someone whose work ethic is certainly impeccable, but who is more known for testing the boundaries of his craft so much, they become almost too tenuous to fully embrace unless we can get onto his wavelength. Mercifully, this is one of his most accessible films in terms of it being a good introduction to his more abstract style – for novice viewers, it is an easy immersion into his brand of off-kilter psychosexual melodrama, while for longtime devotees, it has all the qualities that we appreciate from the director’s work. It may not be his finest film, since it has narrative and structural shortcomings that prevent it from achieving truly impressive results, but it is a solid and entertaining thriller that is aware of its wicked sense of humour, and utilizes it very well in telling this strange and complex story. It may be frustrating when we realize that this is not a film intent on playing by the rules, which it makes clear very early on – and by the time we reach the end, and we encounter the notoriously ambigious conclusion that has been equally celebrated and reviled, we’re certainly at a point where we can either surrender to the film’s ambiguities or be infuriated by them – and regardless of which route we take in coming to our final judgement, Swimming Pool is the kind of dense, fascinating psychological thriller that has incredible depth and an air of chilling complexity that draws our attention, and makes it such an unforgettable and multilayered glimpse into the darker side of humanity, as told by one of cinema’s great social critics.