We all remember where we were when our respective governments announced the discovery of a new flu-like virus that was rapidly spreading across the world, impacting the lives of the global population in a way we had not seen in decades. The COVID-19 pandemic was a peculiar moment, and while it is still technically a factor in our day-to-day lives today, the anxiety and fear that most of us felt during the earliest stages have mercifully abided for the most part, becoming a memory for many of us, albeit not one that we necessarily view with much affection. It was only a matter of time before it weaved its way into art, much like any major historical event – and while we can safely discard the dreadful, overwrought attempts to make films about the pandemic (as they are rarely anything more than cheap attempts to capitalise on the crisis du jour), we are gradually seeing more artistically-resonant works that examine the subject critically and uniquely. One such film is Suspended Time (French: Hors du temps), the most recent offering from Olivier Assayas, who tells the story of Paul, a neurotic filmmaker who is spending the lockdown in his childhood home, situated in a remote corner of the French countryside. He is accompanied by his younger brother Etienne, as well as their respective girlfriends, both of whom are very recent additions to their lives, meaning that not only do the adult brothers have to become reacquainted after years of leading entirely separate lives, but their personal romantic relationships are put to the test by a strict set of rules designed to offer protection from this disease. Tensions begin to flare, and the internal anxieties experienced by each of these characters start to influence their ongoing attempts to pass the time. A masterfully crafted and effortlessly simple blend of comedy and drama, Suspended Time is a tremendous achievement that finds the director working in an undeniably minor key, but nonetheless provides us with yet another poignant, heartfelt examination of the human condition, something that he has proven to know quite well.

Making a film about an event as cataclysmic as the recent pandemic was not an easy task – its far too recent for a particularly objective approach to be taken, especially since everyone involved in its creation would have their own personal experiences, meaning that it was entirely impossible to place any distance between the subject and the people tasked with bringing the story to life. Suspended Time is the latest entry into a series of films that can be considered loosely autobiographical – Assayas himself narrates the film, and the protagonist is a middle-aged filmmaker searching for inspiration, which he finds through embracing the art that defined the past, a very clear instance of an artistic self-insert that is formed from the director looking inwards. In the hands of most other filmmakers, such an approach would be seen as tacky and self-indulgent, but Assayas is smart enough to not resort to the same techniques we often see in these situations. The core of this film is not actually in an intricately-woven examination of the pandemic – the disease itself is not at all interesting, and the actual policies are not any more invigorating. Both are regularly discussed, but in a way that highlights more intriguing points of conversation. Suspended Time is, at its very foundation, an exploration of how we handle unexpected challenges, and the ways in which we can leverage these experiences to grow as individuals, finding answers to questions we didn’t even consider asking prior to these surprising events. The idea of two brothers being forced to get to know each other after years, is a very strong entry point to these discussions – the tension that guides the film is built not from the characters having previously falling out or having any particular reason to drift apart other than differences in their way of life. Being forced to spend any length of time in a confined space (even if it is a beautiful pastoral home) can be a challenge, and this film examines the many complex trials and tribulations experienced by these characters, offering insightful glimpses into their ever-changing psychological states.

Based on the subject matter, Suspended Time was not designed to be particularly sprawling as far as its characters go, so Assayas chooses to enlist a small group of actors, mainly consisting of the central quartet, who are accompanied by a few supporting players scattered throughout. The heart of the film is Vincent Macaigne, once again playing a self-insert of the director himself (having done the same in Non-Fiction a few years ago), and who is the anchor of the narrative. Something that we can appreciate about both the director and Macaigne is that they are not afraid to create an unlikable protagonist, which is the case with Paul, a man whose neuroses start off as very entertaining, but become a problem for the other characters, and the audience by extension. He navigates the challenges of playing such a strange, offbeat character exceptionally well, bringing him to life with such vivacity and charm, despite his intentional shortcomings. Micha Lescot, who has recently ascended to being one of the most promising actors of his generation, gets the chance to play a more comedic character, portraying the more relaxed, easygoing brother of the protagonist, whose own sanity begins to fall away the further they get into this lockdown. At a glance, the characters play by Nora Hamzawi (also reuniting with Assayas after Non-Fiction) and Nine d’Urso seem dreadfully under-developed, but gradually come to be seen as equally rich, complex characters perfectly placed into the film, acting as the logic and reason desperately needed to counteract the more childish personas of their respective partners. The cast is very good chemistry, and they work together well, to the point where we can actually believe that they having such firm connections, rather than simply being actors playing these roles, which gives Suspended Time a far more nuanced, detailed perspective.

Suspended Time is a comparatively minor work in relation to some of the towering achievements that have punctuated Assayas’ career – but its often his more simple and intimate endeavours that prove to have the most intriguing merits, at least in terms of realising their core ideas. The foundation on which this film is built is based around quietly and methodically unpacking the psychological states of these characters, which is particularly noteworthy considering the extent to which the director insists on examining a truly daunting subject. Considering the weight of the narrative and its themes, its quite surprising that he chose to take this particular approach, where the focus is less on the themes and more on the circumstances that surround them. When presented with the choice between making a comedy or a drama, Assayas opts to craft a blend of both, which seems to be the most appropriate approach, based on the subject matter with which he is working, which proves to be a much more interesting way of examining a moment in history that many of us would prefer remain hidden from view when it comes to the media that we consume. Most of the impact made by Suspended Time comes in the precise atmosphere evoked by the narrative – the razor-sharp dialogue is supported by some very delicate tonal shifts, where the director walks a very narrow tightrope between biting comedy and melancholic drama, both of which are absolutely essential to the success of the time. Ultimately, Assayas is not interested in making a film that transcends genre or aims to be a spectacle – sometimes, a dialogue-driven story in which meaning is found through simpler and more quiet conversations, is just as exceptional. It is unfurnished and very simple, which can come across as far too subtle, but its in its quieter moments that we find this film leaving its most significant impression.

While I think we can all agree that COVID-19 is a subject that we can most certainly do without when it comes to being the inspiration for filmmakers, it is important to realise that this was a major global event that defined the start of this decade, and continues to linger heavily as a very important moment in our shared history. The difference between Suspended Time and nearly every other film that tackles the pandemic is not necessarily the subject matter, but rather how it is brought to life on screen. Assayas is far too interesting of a filmmaker to just restrict himself to the by-the-numbers account of life during lockdown, and we see many fascinating details lingering beneath the surface of this story. Perhaps it is the fact that Assayas waited a few years to make a film with this subject matter, prioritising a more detailed, intricately-woven narrative, rather than striking while the iron was hot (and perhaps slightly too sensitive of a topic to be subjected to some of these observations), proving that time is beneficial when examining certain concepts. A delightfully offbeat character study about the impact of social isolation on the hearts and minds of people who never expected to have almost an entire year of the lives suspended in mid-air, anxiously awaiting a return to normality, one that we now know eventually came, but which we feared would never manifest when we were in the thick of the pandemic. Often very funny, but with a firm sense of commitment to its premise, the film is a masterful piece, and a work that will remain one of the only truly good pieces of art to come out of this global crisis, based on both its creativity and empathy, two qualities that work together splendidly in crafting this fascinating narrative.