Blame it on Hitler

A Secret Directed by Claude Miller, at The Paris Theatre & IFC Center, Running Time: 110 min.

“Why do we have to be so proud to be Jewish?” That’s the persuasive question set forth in A Secret, Claude Miller’s attempt at a sweeping period piece set in World War II–era Paris. Seen from the eyes of young François, A Secret takes the tired approach of a child viewing history through the quirks of his family, which worked only slightly better in last year’s Blame it On Fidel. For its emphasis on family affairs, A Secret doesn’t quite qualify as Blame it on Hitler, but it flirts with the idea of historic tragedies as the easiest narrative exit strategy in a story where the narrator is rather clueless.

Based on Phillippe Grimbert’s autobiography, A Secret unfolds with François (played, at varying ages, by a series of talented children, and culminating with the great Mathieu Amalric as François at age 37) gradually learning of the seedy back story that gave rise to his existence. It appears his father, Maxime (Patrick Bruel), fell for his mother while married to another woman. As if that weren’t juicy enough, the flashback brings out darker details that leave François in a state of deep contemplation about his origins as the years pass. Plot-wise, A Secret has the makings of a taut thriller, but Miller chooses to envision it as a heavy-handed adventure in symbolism. As a child, François imagines a fictional sibling to keep him company. The image of his mother, a diver, continually haunts him. What do these and other vague references mean for François’ ongoing maturity and ever-expanding worldview? Precious little.

Miller’s visual clues frequently intrude on a story that might hold our interest on its own merits. As a Holocaust narrative, A Secret never truly grapples with the nature of the larger issues, even as François continually reacts to them with his dazed naiveté. Because Miller never clues us into why we should care about the murky past of François’ troubled family, the movie fails to generate enough interest in its central hook. There’s no transcendent awe generated by the big reveal. The real secret of A Secret is that it has none.