Iranian cinema in the 1990s and Romanian cinema around 2007 were marked by small, stylish films that captured a moment. Swiss cinema meanwhile reached a peak in the 1970s, led by names such as Claude Goretta with The Lacemaker and Daniel Schmid with The Dove. Among the figures most closely associated with this vibrant period was Alain Tanner, born in Geneva in 1929 and passing away in the same city this Sunday at the age of 92.
He is not only remembered as the director of some of Swiss cinema’s most iconic works, including Dead or Alive Charles, released in 1969, and The Salamander from 1971, but also as the creator of Jonah who will turn 25 in 2000, from 1976, and Messidor, released in 1979. Tanner stood at the forefront of a renewal movement in Swiss cinematography, supporting both theoretical discussions and practical experiments. His influence extended beyond Switzerland, as he contributed to projects in France, Ireland, Portugal, and Spain. One of his most acclaimed ventures, The Man Who Lost His Shadow, was made with Francisco Rabal and Angela Molina in Cabo de Gata in 1991, followed by The Diary in 1992 in Barcelona and various Catalan locations. His collaborations also included Lady M, featuring Myriam Mézières and Juanjo Puigcorbé.
In the early 1950s, Tanner formed a creative partnership with Goretta, giving birth to a Geneva cinema club and later a prolonged stay in London. There they produced the short film Nice time in 1957, a project linked to the Free Cinema movement. The two filmmakers captured the everyday reality of London through candid moments around Piccadilly Circus, emphasizing a raw, observational style.
independent Swiss cinema
In Switzerland, both Tanner and Goretta aligned with a smaller, ideologically driven circle that included Jean-Jacques Lagrange, Michel Soutter, and Jean-Louis Roy. The aim was to reactivate an independent Swiss cinema that could challenge mainstream aesthetics while remaining committed to social concerns. Roy and Lagrange produced only a couple of features, but Soutter exercised a notable influence by collaborating with Jean-Louis Trintignant on two films. Goretta continued to work after her breakthrough with The Lacemaker, but Tanner’s body of work stood out for its consistency and reach, often eclipsing his contemporaries.
Perhaps the most representative film of this era is The Salamander, a portrait of a generation anchored in the tensions of class, culture, and exile. It explores the friction between the old social order and new, questioning how wealth and power shape lives. The film stars the luminous Bulle Ogier and the well-known Swiss actor Jean-Luc Bideau, making it a touchstone of Swiss cinema and a symbol of its ambitions during that period. Jonah, who will turn 25 in 2000, remained a steady compass for Tanner, illustrating a belief in persistent national identity amid shifting global influences. The thread of post-May 1968 disillusionment and a critique of urban gentrification runs through his work, revealing a filmmaker deeply engaged with the social fabric around him.
Early in his career, Tanner collaborated with some of the era’s most fearless French actresses. Performers such as Juliet Berto and Anne Wiazemsky appeared in projects like Le retour d’Afrique. Through Messidor, the director and writers crystallized their thoughts on class differences by following the journey of a college student and a shop clerk on a road trip. The White City, with Bruno Ganz, cast in Lisbon, signaled the limits of the filmmaker’s nihilistic vision while revealing the stark landscapes where his characters must navigate moral ambiguity. Later, he moved into broader conversations about cinema and life with Myriam Mézières, a collaboration that helped shape a new voice in European film. In 1999, Jonah and Lila revisited a familiar character as the hero approached a pivotal birthday, while Tanner’s final work, Paul s’en va, addressed the disappearance of a once-active leftist figure from the 70s.
Across these decades, Tanner remained focused on the social stakes of cinema—how class, culture, and public institutions interact, and how people find meaning within shifting political frames. His career offers a lens into Swiss film culture at a moment when it grew bold enough to speak to international audiences while retaining a distinctly local sensibility. The result is a legacy that continues to influence directors wrestling with identity, memory, and the politics of representation.