Ozon poses a familiar problem – how to spend the time that remains after a diagnosis of terminal illness. It is a question explored with typically disturbing effect in this tale of contradictory impulses. Whereas in 'Under the Sand' (2001) the response was denial, in 'Time To Leave' the flawed protagonist accepts his situation and experiences the full gamut of reactions from anger to a final reconciliation. What his father describes as ‘nature’s way ‘is not an option for Romain, haunted by childhood memories and adrift in a meaningless present. Given the short span of time, his transformation strains credibility, despite some engaging plot twists and convincing portrayals in the minor roles.

Romain’s isolation is signalled early in the film by recurring point-of-view shots of people’s backs, whether the boyish head in the opening frame, his lover turning from a video game in the apartment or his grandmother at the sink preparing dinner. His status as the ‘non-invited’ is defined by his sister in a memory of childish games, whilst the surreal realm of fashion photography separates him from the ordinary world of family groups and couples. After breaking with his bourgeois parents and sister and his live-in lover, Romain’s journey to his grandmother’s house, a confidante who is also near to death, is the start of his quest for inclusion.

Ozon’s filmic techniques are complex and often alienating. Symbolic use of colour and images are carefully organised to show telling aspects such as Romain’s slowed gait as his disease progresses, a hand on midriff gesture to indicate a life starting or continuing, mirrors which reflect indecision or lost youth, a cage-like lift and narrow doorways, in a detailed pattern of visual information. Some, however, can seem merely banal, such as repeated shots of the dying roses which were his grandmother’s parting gift.

Whilst Melvil Poupaud’s performance is intentionally distant the minor characters are by contrast sympathetically portrayed, from the vulnerable lover and concerned sister to the grateful but bemused young couple. Jeanne Moreau’s excellent cameo revisits Ozon’s tribute to the female stars of French cinema, '8 Women' , and is particularly touching in the scene with the itemising of beauty products, so she can die ‘in perfect fitness’. Her reaction to Romain’s request to sleep in her bed makes credible a scene that would otherwise be a step too far, even for French cinema’s ‘enfant terrible.

The soundtrack is as carefully composed as the imagery, beginning and ending with the ‘natural’ sounds of breaking waves and seagulls and along the way takes in soulful arias, melodramatic strings and sombre requiems. By mixing the banal with the bizarre Ozon creates a universe in which anything is possible, even the fathering of a child by a gay hero. That he should be asked to father a child shortly after receiving the diagnosis of terminal cancer is in itself quite a coincidence – the three-in-a-bed scenario that is the consequence of his agreement, however strains belief, as does the suggestion that conception occurs almost immediately.

Ozon wrong-foots his audience to brilliant effect, for example in the violent ‘dream’ which turns out to be a video game. He raises expectations for scenes which never happen, or he shocks with explicit sexual references, as when Romain tells the doctor he dreamed of him as a sexual partner. Even given Ozon’s customary blurring of sexual boundaries, the exchange strikes a jarring note. During his conversations with Jany we anticipate her disappointment when she finds out Romain is gay, but the very next scene is in the bedroom, with the husband present so that Romain can perform, surprising in the light of modern conception techniques.


The director’s final surprise, despite some intimations, is his apparent endorsement of that most bourgeois of conventions, the necessity for procreation and continuity of the individual. This message transforms the recurrent image of Romain as a boy, previously understood as reminder of lost innocence, into an image of the coming child. This and the paraphernalia of religious symbolism at the end of the film , the shaven head, church candles, and madonnas, even a symbolic sea-baptism and a final sunset on the deserted beach, makes for an unconvincing conclusion to a fascinating film.