Camus’s The Stranger, It Turns Out, Is Still Relevant

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The film adaptation of Albert Camus’s The Stranger, directed by François Ozon, immediately signals a fresh perspective with its opening line: “I killed an Arab,” spoken by the main character, Meursault (Benjamin Voisin). While this moment originates in the 1942 novel—where it happens much later, as Meursault recounts the event in jail—Ozon deliberately places it at the beginning. This choice highlights the director’s awareness of the sensitive issues surrounding the story, not only what the novel depicts, but also what it leaves unsaid.

Albert Camus’s The Stranger centers on Meursault, a detached and emotionally distant man whose life culminates in a seemingly senseless act of violence. His lack of typical emotional responses – even at his mother’s funeral – becomes the central issue in his trial and the core of the novel. Adapting this to film is difficult enough, but the context of the killing adds another layer of complexity. In Camus’s book, the victim is unnamed and largely unimportant, but director François Ozon subtly brings the victim’s humanity into focus through careful filmmaking choices. The film begins by establishing the colonial context of Algiers, showing how France transformed the city and marginalized the Arab population. This highlights the fact that Meursault’s crime would likely be viewed very differently if the victim had been European. While Camus acknowledged this underlying tension in the novel, it’s far more impactful to portray it visually on screen. This approach has sparked some criticism, with some viewers accusing the film of modernizing the story unnecessarily.

This adaptation remains very true to the original novel. There wasn’t much need to change Meursault’s story; the simple, everyday details are key to understanding his character. Luchino Visconti also made a film version in 1967, with Marcello Mastroianni and Anna Karina, and he largely followed the book’s plot, focusing instead on creating a strong atmosphere. Visconti’s beautiful, often overlooked film used the intense heat and humidity of North Africa to emphasize the contrast between the physical world and Meursault’s emotional distance.

The film Ozon, beautifully shot in black and white, creates a similar immersive experience. It focuses on the physical sensations of Meursault’s world, mirroring the way Camus wrote. We see close-ups of everyday details: a hand in the water, arms touching, an egg frying, wind through a window, sand on skin. Because Meursault isn’t concerned with morals, feelings, or what others think, he only notices what’s immediately before him. When his girlfriend, Marie, asks if he’ll marry her, he simply says, “If you want.” He dismisses the idea of love as unimportant and admits he’d marry anyone who asked.

Despite being a relatively short novel – my edition is just 154 pages with large print and easily read in a day – Camus’s The Stranger features one of the most memorable characters in 20th-century literature: Meursault, a man who reveals very little of his inner thoughts, yet is presented through intensely internal narration. What makes Ozon’s film adaptation so compelling is its depiction of Meursault’s quietness. The character speaks very little, particularly in the first half of the movie. Beyond his initial lines, he remains largely silent in many early scenes. He simply shows his boss the telegram announcing his mother’s death, and offers a quiet handshake when saying goodbye to a coworker. His attempts at romance with Marie are reduced to minimal responses and single words, stripping their conversations down to almost nothing. Even when he appears to be talking, the camera often stays distant, preventing us from hearing what he says.

Meursault, the protagonist, appears detached and unsettling to those around him, seemingly disconnected from common social norms. However, this detachment mirrors a deeper, underlying silence within the world itself. In this adaptation, actor Voisin portrays Meursault as young, approachable, and even harmless, subtly withdrawing during conversations. His rare smiles hint at a shyness, as if he’s reluctant to express genuine emotion. The film emphasizes the raw and awkward nature of the feelings displayed by those around him – from the aggressive Raymond to the grieving mourners at his mother’s funeral, and even his neighbor Salamano and his mistreated dog – because Meursault seems to recognize a certain vulnerability and futility in their displays. This creates the central paradox of Camus’s story: a man unable to connect with others instinctively understands the bleak and meaningless nature of existence. While Meursault might have been seen as a tragic figure in 1942, he now feels remarkably prescient. He represents all of us, as witnesses to and participants in the universe’s indifference. Ultimately, The Stranger feels like a story for today, making this new adaptation particularly impactful.

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2026-04-03 21:54