"Films can illustrate our existence . . . they can distress, disturb and provoke people into thinking about themselves and certain problems. But NOT give the answers." ~ Joseph Losey

Whilst hoping to make a film of Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past, Joseph Losey inherited a project from Greek filmmaker Costa-Gavras about an identity mix up in war time Paris. After Costa-Gavras departed the project, Alain Delon asked Losey to direct as they’d worked together on The Assassination of Trotsky only 4 years prior, so it was Losey who helmed the controversial Franco Solinas and Fernando Morandi script that would go on to win Best Film at the César Awards in 1977. Jeanne Moreau was cast in a small but effective supporting role, reuniting with Losey some 14 years after starring for him in the remarkable Eva.

Robert Klein (Alain Delon) is a successful art dealer in war time Paris and has a nice line in profiting by buying art from Jewish sellers for much less than market value. After he finds a Jewish newspaper at his door, addressed to him as a subscriber, he is keen to clear up what must be a case of mistaken identity. He tries to track down the Jewish Robert Klein, but his endeavours prove frustrating and soon the authorities are treating him as if he is indeed Jewish. Klein, a French Catholic, is desperate to prove his gentile credentials or ‘French-ness’ as the swirling currents propel him to a date with destiny during the Vel d’Hiv Roundup in July 1942.

Losey kicks off the piece with a stomach-churning scene involving the intimate examination of a middle-aged woman as we gradually realise, she’s being assessed to determine her probable racial components, specifically to indicate if she’s Jewish. He inspects her perfunctorily, taking measurements and inventory for his clerk to record, working on her as he might an animal before he declares she ‘…could well belong to the semitic race.’ She pays for the privilege of the invasion and scurries off to confer with her husband, (who is happy they can’t be definitive in labelling her as Jewish) as the next ‘patient’ enters. This is a business where people are voluntarily paying to try to prove they are not Jewish, an opportunistic enterprise enabled by the Nazi occupiers. We are immediately aware of the banality of evil in an everyday context, and are subliminally asked, if they have already accepted or normalised this activity, what else is possible?  

Another opportunistic business is that of Mr. Klein’s, as we see the playboy-ish art dealer leave a scantily clad paramour to conduct an unexpected, discrete transaction. Klein is buying art from desperate Jewish owners at bargain basement prices, and he has his patter ready when the inevitable protests come at the risible offers, “Recently I’ve seen many clients like you, urgently needing to sell,” Klein explains. “And I assure you it’s most unpleasant for me. Embarrassing. Very often I’d rather not buy.” For Klein this is not personal, it’s business and he is merely working the market under the current market forces. He is not a political man, but as a man of wealth and taste he finds the persecution of the Jews regrettable but insists ‘It has nothing to do with me.’ Until it does.

Klein discovers the Jewish newspaper and he goes to the publisher’s office to return it, given he received it in error. The proprietors can’t explain the mix up and Klein starts out to find the real Jewish Klein so he can avoid the scrutiny of the police, but his card has already been marked and every step he takes is under the watchful eye of the Nazi enforcers. Klein tries to keep one step ahead of the authorities as he unravels a web of connections, obfuscations and existential terrors, suddenly forced to confront his place in a poisonous system at the mercy of new fascist and racist masters.

Losey keeps the tones sombre and cold, aided by his regular cinematographer Gerry Fisher and legendary production designer Alexandre Trauner, a Jewish man who worked in secret during the war with Marcel Carné while making Children of Paradise. The mood is matched by Delon who delivers a startling and restrained performance more in league with his moody hitman in Le Samouraï  than with his energetic killer in Plein Soleil. And it is a mature Delon, who wears his years as baggage for his ageing hipster art dealer who seemingly gets older in front of our eyes as he disappears down the fascist rabbit hole. Delon is aided by a couple of fine supporting roles from Michael Lonsdale and Francine Berge as well as wonderful cameos from Jeanne Moreau and the Italian actor Massimo Girotti, some 33 years after his star turn in Visconti’s immortal Ossessione.

Unsurprisingly, the most oft-used descriptor for the film is Kafkaesque, and with good reason. The dilemma that Klein faces is constantly tormenting and eluding him in equal measure - but gradually and chillingly his identity and sense of self erodes the more he tries to find ‘himself.’ Losey provides stark vignettes where Klein encounters Florence (Jeanne Moreau) in her family mansion, walking through a long corridor to meet her he sees many fine art pieces and many places where the artwork is missing. It feels like a puzzle with missing pieces, just like his quest.

Monsieur Klein was not well received by a French population largely happy to swallow the Gaullist myth of self-liberation from the Nazis by De Gaulle and the Free French Forces. The Resistance was a chapter where the far left (who made up the majority of Resistance fighters) by then, were written out and the general population had little appetite to revisit the extent of collaboration. Kafka leavened his lessons with a sprinkling of the absurd, but here there is no dilution, just fear and loathing. Klein’s privileged bubble is beset with puzzles to which there are no answers as he personally navigates the depth of true collaboration in the Round Up, a broken shell of the man we first encountered, a shadow in the crowd.

Monsieur Klein is a masterful and stunning take on a difficult time for the French to confront and comes at the subject from an unexpected angle, making it all the more effective - just as Jonathan Glazer would do in adapting the Martin Amis novel The Zone of Interest when looking at Nazi crimes some 51 years later. Alain Delon provides a brilliant performance to anchor the film, proving he was so much more than a pretty face, and was nominated for a Best Actor César. The film won Best Film at the Césars, and Losey won Best Director. Alexandre Trauner, an artist who worked secretly during the Nazi Occupation, won Best Production Design. This film belongs in the first rank of films that explore the psychology of the Nazi Occupation and the scars it left on the French national psyche.