The Uncomfortable Mirror: 'A Man of His Time' and the Banality of Complicity
There’s something deeply unsettling about films that force us to confront the mundane face of evil. Emmanuel Marre’s A Man of His Time does exactly that, and it’s a choice that, personally, I find both bold and necessary. Swann Arlaud, an actor whose chiseled features have made him a Gen Z meme icon (thanks to Anatomy of a Fall and its fancam frenzy), is here stripped of all glamour. He plays Henri Marre, a mid-level bureaucrat in Vichy France, a man so unremarkable that his complicity in history’s darkest chapter feels almost accidental. But that’s precisely the point—and what makes this film both fascinating and frustrating.
The Bureaucrat as Anti-Hero: A Missed Opportunity?
Henri Marre is no grand villain. He’s a careerist, a man who clings to power not out of ideological fervor but out of ambition and self-preservation. His role in the Department of Labor makes him a cog in the machine of oppression, yet the film struggles to dig deeper into what this means. Early on, there’s a glimmer of promise: Henri’s pamphlet, Notre Salut, hints at a man desperate for relevance, spewing vague ideas about national unity and the flow of information. It’s a detail that I find especially interesting—a man trying to sound profound while saying nothing at all. But the film never fully explores this contradiction. Instead, it settles for surface-level observations, leaving me wondering: What does it mean to be complicit without conviction?
What many people don’t realize is that the most dangerous figures in history aren’t always the ones with grand visions. They’re often people like Henri—ordinary, unremarkable, and utterly replaceable. Yet, their collective inaction or blind obedience enables atrocities. Marre’s portrayal of his namesake feels like a missed opportunity to explore this dynamic. The film’s 155-minute runtime could have been a deep dive into the psychology of complicity, but instead, it feels like a historical patchwork, more concerned with ticking off historical breadcrumbs than probing the human condition.
The Machinery of Power: Who’s Really in Control?
One of the film’s most compelling moments comes late in the story when Henri is faced with a choice: refuse Nazi demands for resources or enable the deportation of Jews. Arlaud’s frozen acquiescence is chilling, not because it’s dramatic, but because it’s so mundane. This raises a deeper question: At what point does following orders become moral failure? The film seems to suggest that the machinery of power eventually overtakes individual agency—a terrifying thought. But here’s where I diverge from the filmmaker’s perspective. I think the film underestimates the role of personal choice, even in the most oppressive systems. Henri’s inaction isn’t just a product of the system; it’s a choice, however small. And that’s a distinction the film glosses over.
Contemporary Echoes: Are We Really Beyond This?
What this film really suggests is that fascism isn’t just a relic of the past—it’s a temptation that lurks in the present. Marre’s use of 80s needle-drops and verité camerawork feels like a deliberate attempt to bridge the gap between then and now. But here’s where the film falls short: it feels too safe, too reassuring. It’s as if it’s saying, “Look how far we’ve come,” without acknowledging the ways in which history repeats itself. From my perspective, this is the film’s biggest flaw. It’s easy to condemn the past; it’s much harder to confront the present.
Personally, I think the film could have been a sharper critique of contemporary complacency. Instead, it feels like a pat on the back for liberal audiences, a reminder that we’re not like those people. But what if we are? What if the Henris of today are sitting in boardrooms, government offices, or even our own homes, enabling injustice through silence or indifference? That’s the uncomfortable question the film avoids.
The Power of the Ordinary: Why This Film Matters
Despite its flaws, A Man of His Time is a film that lingers. It’s not because of its historical accuracy or its narrative depth, but because of the questions it raises—even if it doesn’t answer them. Swann Arlaud’s performance is a masterclass in subtlety, capturing the banal horror of a man who’s both perpetrator and bystander. If you take a step back and think about it, that’s the scariest part: evil doesn’t always wear a uniform. Sometimes, it wears a suit and sits in a committee meeting.
In the end, the film’s greatest strength is also its greatest weakness. It holds a mirror up to us, but it doesn’t force us to look too closely. And maybe that’s the point. Maybe the film is less about Henri Marre and more about us—our capacity for complicity, our willingness to turn a blind eye. What makes this particularly fascinating is how it challenges us to ask: If I were in Henri’s shoes, would I act differently?
Final Thoughts: A Provocation, Not a Masterpiece
A Man of His Time isn’t a perfect film, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s a provocation, a conversation starter, and in that sense, it succeeds. It reminds us that history isn’t just about grand events—it’s about the small choices, the quiet compromises, and the moments when we decide to look away. From my perspective, that’s a lesson worth remembering, even if the film doesn’t deliver it as powerfully as it could.
So, is it worth watching? Absolutely. But don’t expect a grand historical epic. Expect a mirror—and be prepared to not like what you see.
