The latest film from prolific French writer-director Francois Ozon is Time to Leave, a sensitive, low-key drama exploring themes of mortality and interpersonal relationships. It centres on Romain (Melvin Poupard), a somewhat self-centred photographer who discovers that he has terminal cancer. Already somewhat aloof from those around him, he withdraws further, concealing his illness and lashing out at family and his partner Sasha (Christian Sengewald). As the illness progresses, however, Romain is transformed.

Romain remains enigmatic throughout, with his actions hard to predict from scene to scene, and the viewer never quite sure whether he will ultimately be redeemed. Poupard is excellent in the role, holding the complex character together and in the process anchoring the film (he is in virtually every scene). The supporting cast is similarly strong, with Ozon again showing his fondness for calling on the grand matriarchs of French cinema in the casting of Jeanne Moreau in the crucial role as Romain’s grandmother, his only confidant. Daniel Duval (as Romain’s father) and Valeria Bruni Tedeschi (as an acquaintance with a special favour to ask) are also very strong in small roles.

Ultimately, though, it is only the pieces of Time to Leave that really work – the individual scenes with particular resonance (which will be different for every viewer). Ozon’s work with actors and staging of scenes is always impeccable, and worthy of his reputation as one of French cinema’s key talents. Yet he struggles to make the film add up to anything. A Hollywood film with this theme would focus on a clear throughline for Romain’s character, giving him an arc that led to a cathartic lesson learned; while a traditional art-film approach would emphasise the messiness of everyday life, perhaps playing up the missed connections as Romain tried to bring his life in order. Each approach is as formulaic as the other, and part of the challenge for filmmakers is to find new angles on these stock approaches. Ozon’s solution is to just fall between the two stools, going for art-film ambiguity on a scene-by-scene basis, but ultimately building to a surprisingly sentimental conclusion. Time to Leave won’t hurt Ozon’s reputation, but ultimately it’s a minor work.

This review first appeared at In Film Australia.