“Any similarity to real persons and events is not coincidental. It is INTENTIONAL.” This is the disclaimer that shows up smack dab in the middle of the opening credits of Z, Costa-Gavras’ provocative political thriller/dark-comic satire from 1969.
For his third film, the Greek-French filmmaker decided to do a thinly-veiled account of the 1963 assassination of democratic Greek politician Grigoris Lambrakis. For Costa-Gavras, that tragic event, along with the right-wing dictatorship (also known as the Greek junta or Regime of the Colonels) that ruled Greece in the late ‘60s and other assassinations of that era, got him creatively riled up to where he made a savage, surprisingly entertaining bit of world cinema that would become an award-winning box-office smash.
Adapted from a novel of the same name by Greek writer/diplomat Vassilis Vassilikos (who passed away last November at age 90), Z hits the ground running from the first frame. The movie begins with a government lecture on agriculture that gets perked up when the leader of the security police (Pierre Dux) makes an impassioned, metaphor-heavy speech about attacking leftism or, as he calls it, “the ideological mildew threatening our country.”
There’s a very violent war going on in the streets of this unnamed Mediterranean state. Right-wing, anticommunist protestors are ready to beat the snot out of left-wing pacifists like The Deputy (French film/music star Yves Montand), a charismatic doctor and politician who comes to town to speak at a rally the government ferociously tries to stop. Since that character is clearly a stand-in for Lambrakis, his screen time is limited, as a three-wheel truck whizzes by after the rally and a man in the bed gives him a fatal blow to the head.
Of course, the Deputy’s death leads to more rioting, as his followers fight with cops and paint the titular letter Z (which means “he lives” in ancient Greek) in the streets. While the police and the government are ready to rule this as an accident, the examining magistrate (coolly played by Jean-Louis Trintignant) starts uncovering new details in his investigation that automatically suggests foul play was involved.
With Z, Costa-Gavras pulls off the savvy, rather remarkable feat of making a politically-charged message movie that plays like an action-packed genre film. There are exciting set pieces, usually involving speeding cars. He even throws in some romantic melodrama, giving us brief flashbacks of the Deputy and his wife (Greek screen siren Irene Papas)—who eventually shows up when her husband is dying in the hospital—and their complicated marriage.
Things don’t stay dire for long, as Costa-Gavras brings in some comic relief in the form of a soccer-loving witness (a scene-stealing Georges Géret) who won’t let intimidation from the police, the militants or even his own sister stop him from speaking the truth. Certain guilty parties do get their comeuppance in the third act, but the story reaches an insanely bleak conclusion in the final minutes, practically hitting the audience with a cold, cruel reminder that things were still fucked up in Costa-Gavras’ homeland.
Costa-Gavras had some talented collaborators on this production. Spanish writer/politician Jorge Semprún co-wrote the script, while actor Jacques Perrin, who plays an opportunistic photojournalist, handled producing duties. Legendary French New Wave cinematographer Raoul Coutard (who has an uncredited role as an English surgeon) does wonders as the resident DP, keeping the camera moving around the actors in smooth, dramatic fashion. And Greek composer Mikis Theodorakis—who was such a thorn in the side of the junta that his music was banned and he was often imprisoned—provided exhilarating compositions for the soundtrack, which eventually became a hit.
Z was a hit in the States and abroad. After it won the Jury Prize at the Cannes Film Festival, it got picked up for distribution by Cinema 5, the trailblazing world-cinema distributor/theater chain that was run by Donald Rugoff. Rugoff launched an aggressive campaign to not only make Z a critical and commercial success, but also a serious Oscar contender. In the 2021 documentary Searching for Mr. Rugoff, Costa-Gavras recalls how Rugoff was determined to get the film a slew of Oscar nods. (“He told me, ‘Every Oscar is a million dollars more!’ Costa-Gavras remembers, laughing.) The plan worked; Z was nominated for five Academy Awards, including Best Picture. It won two, for Best Foreign Film and Best Film Editing.
Z racked up $17 million in the U.S., as critics from coast-to-coast sang its praises. Roger Ebert made it his top film that year. He wrote, “It is a film of our time. It is about how even moral victories are corrupted. It will make you weep and will make you angry. It will tear your guts out.” Z was also a favorite of the Black Panther Party, who screened an advance print at the National Conference for a United Front Against Fascism in 1969.
Z has become an influential classic, inspiring audiences, filmmakers and revolutionaries. But perhaps the most amazing thing about it is how it’s just as relevant now as it was 55 years ago. All those clueless, rabid right-wingers and their propaganda-fueled fury are definitely not that different from the MAGA hat-wearing wingnuts who desperately want their orange leader back in the Oval Office this November. A feisty, funny firebomb of a film, Z will forever be here to remind people that powerful oppressors are always around—and it’s our job to keep them from starting juntas of their own.
Craig D. Lindsey is a Houston-based writer. You can follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @unclecrizzle.