Moulin, the partly biographical historical film from László Nemes, is the big frontrunner at Cannes this year. It comes with a loaded pedigree, not just from Nemes, an industry darling and a hugely beloved veteran of European cinema, but also thanks to its leading man, Gilles Lellouche, who is having a major upswing in his career with two major films released in 2026.
The result is a handsomely crafted period piece filled with great performances and Nemes' delicate touch, but one that's also frustratingly shallow and an oddly romanticized tale of martyrdom that could be better.
While the story begins with the unification of the French resistance during the Nazi occupation, its main focus is on the capture, torture, and murder of Jean Moulin (Lellouche), a key figure in the fight against the fascists. For the first 45 minutes, we witness the intricate and dangerous nature of his daily activities, including living undercover as an upscale decorator for the wealthy.
It's here that Moulin is at its best, with both Nemes and Lellouche giving it their all as the film explores the complexities of maintaining a semblance of self in a world where nothing is as it seems. Lellouche is tremendous throughout, but especially here, where he has to be both charming and instantly forgettable, lest someone recognize him. Watch how calculated his movements are as he makes his way across the room, or how delicately he handles a lovelorn countess, who clearly adores the man Moulin has painted himself as.
When the betrayal and capture happen, the film shifts in focus to something else entirely. Moulin becomes a story of inevitability, told as if it were a heroic ballad sung at campfires long after the subject has passed away. Hagiographies of war heroes are nothing new, and there's a good argument to be made that anyone who fights Nazis deserves to be remembered in the most adoring way possible.
But there are inherent dangers to romanticizing every aspect of the resistance, especially with how Nemes handles things here. There is always a golden light from somewhere, the set design is lush, and the camera can't find a single bad angle of Lellouche, even when he's beaten within an inch of his life. In an attempt to portray Moulin as a heroic figure of resistance, Nemes loses grasp of the horrors and banality of evil that permeate within fascism.
The actual torture takes up much of the runtime, in numerous locations and invented scenarios that, by all surviving accounts, probably didn't happen. In reality, Moulin's torture and death were swift and brutal, beyond what is depicted here. By the end, he was beaten so badly that not even his friends could recognize him. In the film, Moulin gets the last laugh, even in defeat.
There are moments of intrigue, particularly as Moulin and notorious goosestepper Klaus Barbie (Lars Eidinger) size each other up on their first meeting. Eidinger plays the infamous Nazi with about as much subtlety as you'd expect. It's a hammy and fun performance in a film that I don't think should have such words associated with it. Especially as, near the end, Nemes gives us a form of relief in a fictional temper tantrum that dresses evil down to something more palatable.
As a comforting, capably made piece of light historical entertainment, Moulin is watchable and instantly forgettable. Everything the fight against fascism should not be.
