The Human Face of Resistance: László Nemes’ ‘Moulin’ and the Enduring Battle for Freedom
Why do we keep returning to World War II in film? It’s a question that’s lingered in my mind ever since I heard about László Nemes’ latest project, Moulin. Personally, I think it’s because these stories force us to confront the fragility of democracy—a theme that feels eerily relevant today. Nemes, the Hungarian filmmaker behind the harrowing Son of Saul, isn’t just revisiting the war; he’s diving into the moral and philosophical depths of resistance. And what makes this particularly fascinating is his choice to focus on Jean Moulin, a French hero whose name is known but whose humanity is often overlooked.
Beyond the Hero: Uncovering Moulin’s Humanity
One thing that immediately stands out is Nemes’ refusal to turn Moulin into a biopic. Instead, he zeroes in on the final 10 days of Moulin’s life, a period marked by his confrontation with Klaus Barbie, the ‘Butcher of Lyon.’ What many people don’t realize is that Moulin wasn’t just a symbol of resistance—he was a complex man, a humanist grappling with impossible choices. Nemes told Variety, ‘I wanted to know the man he might have been,’ and this quest for authenticity is what sets Moulin apart.
From my perspective, this approach is crucial. By avoiding the trappings of a traditional hero narrative, Nemes invites us to see Moulin not as a saint, but as a human being. This raises a deeper question: How do ordinary people become extraordinary in the face of tyranny? Nemes’ answer lies in the tension between Moulin’s humanism and Barbie’s brutality—a clash of civilizations, as he puts it.
The Danger of Caricature: Portraying Humanity in Extremes
A detail that I find especially interesting is Nemes’ insistence on avoiding caricatures. He didn’t want ‘circus Nazis’ or two-dimensional heroes. This commitment to nuance is rare in war films, where characters often become symbols rather than people. Lars Eidinger’s portrayal of Barbie, for instance, is chilling not because he’s a monster, but because he’s recognizably human. What this really suggests is that evil isn’t always otherworldly—it’s often mundane, even relatable.
Gilles Lellouche’s transformation into Moulin is equally striking. Nemes worked closely with him to capture the character’s simplicity and truthfulness. This focus on authenticity extends to the film’s extras, some of whom were reenactors with a fascination for Nazi uniforms. It’s a disturbing reminder of how easily history can be romanticized—or worse, forgotten.
The Timelessness of Resistance: Why This Story Matters Now
If you take a step back and think about it, the resistance years in France were akin to a civil war. Nemes grew up under Hungary’s communist dictatorship, so he understands the cost of freedom. ‘Sometimes the West doesn’t quite understand how lucky they are to be free,’ he said. This sentiment resonates deeply in an era where democratic norms are under threat globally.
What this film really highlights is the personal cost of resistance. Moulin was isolated, his efforts often marginal and fraught with danger. It’s a far cry from the romanticized version of the French Resistance we often see in media. Nemes wants us to understand that resistance isn’t glamorous—it’s gritty, exhausting, and often thankless.
The Future of Historical Cinema: Lessons from Nemes
In my opinion, Moulin is more than a historical drama; it’s a call to action. Nemes’ next project, Outer Dark, a Cormac McCarthy adaptation, shows his willingness to explore dark, complex themes across genres. But it’s his approach to filmmaking that’s truly instructive. He prioritizes control, working closely with a trusted crew to ensure his vision isn’t compromised.
This raises a deeper question: Can filmmakers maintain their integrity when moving into mainstream English-language cinema? Nemes’ plan to shoot Outer Dark in Hungary, where he can keep costs down and creative control high, suggests that it’s possible. What many people don’t realize is that the best films often come from collaboration, not just individual genius.
Final Thoughts: A Love Letter to Humanity
Moulin isn’t just a film about the past—it’s a mirror to the present. Nemes’ insistence on portraying Moulin’s humanity reminds us that the fight for freedom is always personal. It’s about choices, sacrifices, and the enduring power of the human spirit. Personally, I think this is why we’ll keep returning to World War II stories: they remind us of what’s at stake when democracy falters.
As Nemes said, ‘The friction between democracy and tyranny is still at the heart of our times.’ Moulin doesn’t just tell us about history—it challenges us to live up to it. And in a world where the lines between right and wrong are increasingly blurred, that’s a message we desperately need to hear.
