I remember the moment my Scottish flatmate showed me a clip of Gérard Depardieu in Le Camion by Marguerite Duras from 1977, proof of his youthful attractiveness. As a woman born in France in the 1980s, my recent memory pictured him as a more imposing figure, someone prone to débordements in the sense of excess – a national treasure: a symbol of a certain Rabelaisian laisser-aller, an overindulgence of man’s appetites.
I won’t lie and say that the latest Depardieu controversy – the accusations of past rape and sexual assault – came as a shock in my parents’ home north of Paris, where I am spending the quiet days between Christmas and new year.
Indeed, neither his problematic, often ostentatiously sexist behaviour, nor the fervour of his support base in the industry came as a surprise to much of the French public. Even the publication of a letter from 56 supporters in the French press declaring solidarity with him, in the face of imminent social cancellation, felt like old news; for there had been a similar occurrence in 2018 and on a bigger scale. Then, the actor Catherine Deneuve and the writer Catherine Millet were among 100 signatories of a text in Le Monde calling for une autre parole (another discourse) on the #MeToo movement, just as it was gaining traction in France. The difference is that this time, the signatories have come to the defence of a single (powerful) man.
Yet as with that first anti-#MeToo open letter, the language of this one seems to miss the point. The title of this text, published by the rightwing paper Le Figaro on 25 December, is a plea to not “erase” Depardieu. Presumably that is addressed to the French public. But do its authors – for the main part, members of the French film and media industry – suppose that a public response to allegations of rape and sexual misconduct have, alone, the power to “erase” a superstar from the cultural landscape?
The letter praises Depardieu as “probably the greatest French actor alive”, and “one of the last sacred giants of French cinema”. It is this, it seems – this status – that should be protected.
In his response to the Depardieu allegations on 20 December, the French president, Emmanuel Macron, claimed that equality between men and women has been the central battle of his presidency since his first mandate begun in 2017, and he implored a panel of journalists to let justice do its work. “I cannot stand a manhunt,” he said, hailing the actor as a source of pride for France. This makes me think that the Depardieu story is more than just another example of the culture-war positioning of an older generation of French men and women: what it is really about is a reactionary protectionism of France’s cultural presence in the world.
Macron was asked whether he supported the removal from Depardieu of his Légion d’honneur, the highest distinction in France, founded by Napoleon in 1802 as a reward for services éminents rendered to the country. Among the eminent services the recipient of the Légion d’honneur may render is participation in le rayonnement culturel de la France. This phrase borrows from the metaphor of the sun, its rays shining out on to the surrounding world, and that, his supporters say, is Depardieu, whose art reflects well on France, its values and its art de vivre. But not all public figures so benefit. The once feted author Gabriel Matzneff gathered no public support when he was exposed as a paedophile in 2020.
In France, particularly in conservative France, there is a strong attachment to the idea of cultural prestige. It is an attribute many think the rest of the world still envies. The problem is the enduring notion that French culture at its core can only be one thing – an echo of the past. It is this conservative streak that Macron seeks to appeal to with his words of support for Depardieu. They also helpfully divert the conversation from the president’s current political troubles over immigration.
I deplore lazy depictions of France as depraved by a British and American press that seizes on every new case of sexual harassment with alacrity. I note, for example, that no effort was made to present the alleged behaviour of Prince Andrew as an inherently British phenomenon.
Still, who can argue with Annie Ernaux – the Nobel prize-winning author – who recently described France as a “truly sexist country”. Given the continued lack of interest in women’s voices in the public discourse today – at least in the higher spheres of power – surely it is.
Elsa Court is a lecturer in French at the University of Oxford
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