It starts with a telegram. "Mother died today. Or maybe yesterday, I don't know." If you’ve ever sat through a high school lit class, those words probably haunt your subconscious. They belong to Albert Camus, the chain-smoking philosopher of the absurd, but in 1967, they became the opening of a film that almost shouldn't exist. The Stranger 1967, or Lo Straniero if you’re feeling fancy and Italian, is a weird beast. Directed by Luchino Visconti and starring Marcello Mastroianni, it’s a movie that captures a very specific, sun-drenched kind of misery. It’s beautiful. It’s frustrating. It’s remarkably faithful to a book that is famously impossible to film.
Honestly, the production was a bit of a nightmare before the cameras even rolled. You had Visconti, a director known for lush, operatic epics like The Leopard, trying to tackle a slim, sparse novel about a guy who doesn't feel much of anything. Then there was the widow, Francine Camus. She was the gatekeeper. She had a list of demands that would make a modern Marvel producer sweat. She insisted the film stay exactly true to the book. No deviations. No "creative interpretations." This created a tension that you can actually feel on screen. It’s like watching a grand master of cinema working inside a very small, very glass box.
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The Struggle to Film the Unfilmable
The core problem with The Stranger 1967 is the internal monologue. In the book, we are stuck inside Meursault's head. We feel the heat of the Algerian sun. we feel the physical annoyance of a funeral. We understand that he isn't a "monster" in the traditional sense; he's just someone who refuses to lie about his feelings to satisfy society's expectations. But how do you film "not feeling"? Visconti’s solution was to lean into the atmosphere.
He shot the film in Algiers. He wanted that blinding, oppressive light. You know the kind of heat that makes your brain feel like it’s melting? That’s the third lead actor in this movie. Mastroianni, playing Meursault, spends a lot of time just staring. Some critics at the time hated it. They thought he looked bored. But that’s the point, isn't it? If you’re an expert on existentialism, you know that Meursault’s "boredom" is actually a radical honesty. He doesn't cry at his mother's funeral because he doesn't feel like crying at that exact moment. In 1967, audiences weren't always ready for a protagonist who lacked a traditional moral arc.
Mastroianni and the Burden of the Absurd
Marcello Mastroianni was perhaps the biggest star in the world when he took this role. He was the face of La Dolce Vita. He was cool. He was suave. Seeing him stripped of his charm—playing a man who kills a guy on a beach for basically no reason other than the sun was in his eyes—was a shock. It's a quiet performance. It’s subtle. He captures that weird, detached quality of the character without making him totally unwatchable.
A lot of people think the film is too slow. They’re not entirely wrong. Visconti takes his time. There are long sequences where almost nothing happens, reflecting the mundane nature of Meursault’s life before the murder. But then the trial happens. The second half of the film becomes a legal drama, but not the kind you see on TV. It’s a trial about Meursault’s character, not his crime. The prosecutor focuses more on the fact that he went to see a Fernandel comedy the day after his mother died than the fact that he shot a man. This is where the movie really bites. It exposes the "theater" of justice.
Why This Version is So Hard to Find Now
You might have noticed that The Stranger 1967 isn't exactly popping up on Netflix every other week. It’s been stuck in a weird sort of rights limbo for years. Because it was a co-production between Italian, French, and Algerian companies, and because of the tight grip of the Camus estate, high-quality restorations have been rare. For a long time, if you wanted to see it, you had to hunt down a grainy bootleg or find a rare screening at a museum like the MoMA.
It’s a shame, really. Even if you think Visconti was the wrong choice for the material, the film is a visual masterclass. The cinematography by Giuseppe Rotunno is incredible. He managed to capture the grit of Algiers alongside the sterile, cold atmosphere of the courtroom. It’s a film of contrasts. Hot and cold. Life and death. The "absurd" and the "rational."
The Critique of Colonialism (Or Lack Thereof)
Looking back from a modern perspective, the film—and the book—face a lot of valid criticism regarding their portrayal of the "Arab" character who gets killed. He doesn't even have a name. He’s just a figure on a beach. Camus has been criticized for this "colonial blindness," and Visconti’s film carries that same weight. The victim is a plot device to facilitate the Frenchman's existential crisis.
When you watch The Stranger 1967 today, you can't ignore that context. The film was made just a few years after the Algerian War of Independence ended. Shooting on location in a newly independent Algeria while telling a story about a Frenchman killing an Algerian must have been incredibly tense. Visconti doesn't lean into the politics as much as some might have liked, sticking instead to the philosophical "purity" of the source text. It makes the movie a fascinating time capsule of both 1940s philosophy and 1960s filmmaking.
The Legacy of a "Failed" Masterpiece
Is it a masterpiece? Honestly, it depends on who you ask. Some film historians see it as a beautiful failure—a case of a director's style clashing with the author's voice. Others think it's the only way the book could have been made. It doesn't try to "explain" Meursault. It just shows him.
If you're a fan of 60s European cinema, you have to see it at least once. It’s the bridge between the Neo-realism of the 50s and the more experimental, psychological films of the 70s. It’s also a reminder of a time when major movie stars were willing to take roles that made them look absolutely indifferent to the world. No heroics. No redemption. Just the sun, the sea, and the guillotine.
Actionable Ways to Experience The Absurd Today
If you’re looking to dive into the world of The Stranger 1967, don't just go looking for a trailer. The context is everything here.
- Read the first 20 pages of the book first. You need that internal voice in your head before you see Mastroianni’s face. It helps you fill in the blanks of what he’s thinking.
- Check for boutique Blu-ray releases. Companies like Criterion or Arrow occasionally look into these lost classics. While a definitive 4K restoration is still a dream for many, there are "grey market" versions that are watchable if you look in the right cinephile circles.
- Watch Visconti’s "The Leopard" immediately after. It helps you see the director's true range. You’ll see how much he had to "restrain" himself for The Stranger, which makes the 1967 film even more impressive in hindsight.
- Listen to "Killing an Arab" by The Cure. Robert Smith wrote the song about the book/film. It’s the ultimate 80s post-punk tribute to the vibe Visconti was trying to capture.
- Look for the 1970s Algerian film "The Postman." If you want to see how Algerian filmmakers of the era were handling similar themes of bureaucracy and isolation, it’s a great counterpoint.
The 1967 adaptation remains the definitive cinematic version of Camus' work, mostly because no one else has been brave (or crazy) enough to try it again on that scale. It stands as a testament to a time when cinema wasn't afraid to be difficult, quiet, and deeply uncomfortable. Whether you love it or hate it, you won't forget the way the light looks on that beach.