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With Depardieu, has the #MeToo movement finally won in France?

With Depardieu, has the #MeToo movement finally won in France?

PARIS (AP) — For powerful men in France's film industry, this was a week of reckoning. Gérard Depardieu — the country's most famous male actor — was convicted of sexual assault. Two days later, the Cannes Film Festival barred another actor accused of rape from walking the red carpet.
Together, the decisions sent a message that France had long resisted: that artistic brilliance may no longer shield those who abuse their power.
For decades, Depardieu was revered as French cinema's 'sacred monster' — a towering talent whose gluttony, volatility and magnetism became part of his myth. With more than 250 films to his name, many believed he would remain untouchable even after more than 20 women accused him of
sexual misconduct
.
Now, that myth has cracked.
The verdict has revived a broader question France has ducked since the dawn of #MeToo: Can a country that celebrates seduction and irreverence
finally hold its male icons to account
?
France has long lived its own #MeToo contradiction. That talent, charm, or intellect forgives misconduct. That the art excuses the artist. This is the land that gave the world Brigitte Bardot's pout and Catherine Deneuve's poise — and then watched both recoil when the movement came knocking.
Deneuve has defended 'the right' to seduce
, while Bardot has dismissed feminism outright: 'I like men.'
But the ground is shifting — fast.
Cannes' seismic shift
Depardieu was handed an 18-month suspended sentence Tuesday for groping two women on a 2021 film set. He denies the charges and is appealing.
'It's the end of impunity of artists with a capital A,' Carine Durrieu Diebolt, a lawyer for one of the two women who won their case against Depardieu, told The Associated Press. The verdict represented 'a bookend for putting actors on a pedestal because they were talented,' she added.
Two days later, the prestigious Cannes Film Festival barred
actor Théo Navarro-Mussy
— accused of rape by three former partners — from attending the premiere of a film he stars in, even though the file was dropped for lack of evidence. The women are launching a civil complaint.
Navarro-Mussy denies wrongdoing. His lawyer said that she's unaware of any ongoing proceedings against him.
What stunned wasn't just the decision, but who made it. Cannes director Thierry Frémaux had long been seen as emblematic of the old guard. He defended Roman Polanski for years and continued to screen his films despite the director's 1977 guilty plea in the U.S. for sex with a 13-year-old. In 2018, when asked why Cannes still included Polanski, Frémaux said: 'These are complicated matters.'
Frémaux opened 2023's festival with a film starring
Johnny Depp
, despite the actor's highly public legal battle with ex-wife Amber Heard over allegations of domestic abuse, in which he was never criminally charged. When asked about the backlash, Frémaux replied: 'I only have one rule: it's the freedom of thinking, and the freedom of speech and acting within a legal framework.'
This week, the rules changed.
'The Cannes decision is of course linked to the Depardieu verdict,' said Céline Piques of Osez le féminisme ('Dare Feminism!'), a group that campaigns against sexual violence. '(They've) realized which way the wind is blowing. Frémaux is trying to right the wrongs.'
Resistance remains
Not everyone welcomed the verdict — or what followed — as a cultural turning point.
Fanny Ardant, one of French cinema's grandes dames and a longtime friend of Depardieu,
sat on his side in court
. She is now directing him in a film in Portugal, despite the conviction.
'Fanny Ardant? She completely missed the point,' said Piques. 'She downplayed the violence, normalized it. That's rape culture, plain and simple.'
Juliette Binoche, Cannes jury president and one of France's most respected actors, struck a note of restraint: 'He's not a monster. He's a man — one who has, apparently, been desacralized.'
Her caution captured something deeper: a country caught between the urge to change and the instinct to protect its giants.
A justice system slowly opening
In 2024, more than 22,000 rapes were reported in France. Fewer than 3% led to convictions. 'The Depardieu verdict shows there's progress,' said lawyer Anne-Sophie Laguens, who works with victims of sexual assault. 'But for most women, the barriers to justice remain enormous.'
When Bertrand Cantat — front man of Noir Désir and once one of France's bestselling rock singers — launched a 2018 comeback tour, he had served just four years in prison for killing his partner, actor Marie Trintignant, during a violent assault.
Despite public outrage, he returned to the stage and performed.
'That would be unthinkable today,' said Piques. 'The public mood has changed. What we tolerate has changed.'
The shift in shame
One breakthrough came not from a film set, but an Avignon courtroom. The
conviction of 51 men for drugging and raping Gisele Pelicot
— a case long ignored despite her pleas — marked a turning point. For years, shame was hers. Now, it belongs to the perpetrators.
'It proved rapists aren't just strangers in alleys,' said Piques. 'They're husbands. Colleagues. Respected men.'
That shift in shame is now rippling through the cultural world — once seen as a bastion of male privilege. Recently. director Christophe Ruggia was convicted of abusing actor Adèle Haenel when she was a minor, though he is appealing; and actor-director Nicolas Bedos, was sentenced for sexual assault.
So did #MeToo win?
Slowly but surely, yes. The system that long protected men like Depardieu is not yet dismantled, but it is shifting.
As one of the actor's accusers said through tears after the ruling: 'I'm very, very much satisfied with the decision. That's a victory for me, really. And a big progress, a step forward. I feel justice was made.'
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'Students who have their heads down will be prompted by the teacher no more than two times to sit up and participate,' reads the Classroom Behavior Management Plan for Florida's juvenile justice schools. The first time Xavier Nicoll, 15, broke a laptop at his residential commitment center in Miami, it was because an online teacher wouldn't respond to his questions, according to his grandmother, Julie, who has raised him. He was arrested and sent to a different detention center to face charges. The three weeks he spent there didn't count toward his overall sentence because he can't receive 'treatment' there. Detainees call it 'dead time.' Once back at the residential center, he broke another laptop, his grandmother says, because a teen dared him to. Back he went to county detention and court for more dead time. Then, in January, when the in-person class supervisor wouldn't help him get into a locked online assignment, he broke a third, says Julie Nicoll. Xavier was initially meant to be held for six to nine months after breaking into a vape store. He's now on track to be confined at least 28 months. He's grown at least five inches in detention — and gone through puberty. Yet in school, Nicoll said in April, he was making no progress. 'He went in as an eighth grader and is still an eighth grader — and failing,' Nicoll said. Xavier's March report card showed he was earning a 34% in Civics and Career Planning, 12% in Pre-Algebra, 13% in Comprehensive Science and 58% in Language Arts. Nicoll has complained that her grandson, who has attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, or ADHD, hasn't been receiving special education services. The Department of Juvenile Justice and Florida Virtual School have canceled multiple meetings to discuss his education plan because Xavier keeps getting arrested and sent for dead time. 'He's trapped,' says Nicoll. 'No matter what we do, we can't seem to get him out.' Trouble rejoining the community? Nicoll and her husband have spent more than $20,000 in legal fees trying to win his release. They argue untreated brain inflammation due to mold exposure in detention, plus his disability, make it impossible for him to control his frustration during online school. In May, Xavier was arrested a fourth time. After turning in an assignment, he realized he'd made a mistake and asked the in-class supervisor to return it. The supervisor wouldn't give back his work, and he broke another laptop. Xavier pleaded guilty in August to two felonies for breaking laptops. 'They're setting him up to go into the community a failure," said Nicoll. It's unclear how many students are getting in trouble or extending their time because of behavior during virtual school. Arrests inside residential centers increased slightly in the first nine months after the department adopted virtual school, compared with the same period during the previous year. An analysis of publicly available data shows staff use of verbal and physical interventions has also risen slightly, to 2.4 physical or verbal interventions per 100 days from 1.8 interventions the previous year. The total number of youth in Florida's residential commitment centers increased to 1,388 in June, the latest data reported by the state, up 177 since July 2024, when the department adopted virtual instruction. That could indicate detainees are staying in confinement longer. 'Correlation does not equal causation," responded Amanda Slama, a Department of Juvenile Justice spokeswoman. "Other contributing factors could explain an increase in arrests if there is one.' Since December, the department has ignored or refused AP requests to visit juvenile confinement, speak to officials and release anonymized exit documents for students leaving commitment centers. Not all students are getting in trouble during online schooling, but that doesn't mean they're learning. Jalen Wilkinson, 17, received punishment during detention for fighting, but his father was unaware of punishment related to school. But when school went online in July 2024, Jalen started complaining that there weren't enough adults to help students with the virtual program. School, he says, is basically free time. Jalen has been especially frustrated that he couldn't complete his GED while confined — even though Florida Virtual School leaders say they've made it easier for detainees to take the exam. He was released in July. His father, John Terry, worries the time locked up was a waste and Jalen will struggle to re-enter high school and graduate. 'There's no rehabilitation whatsoever." Cayden is still trying to restart school In March, shackled with an ankle monitor, Cayden Gillespie finally left Orlando Youth Academy. The six to nine months his case manager predicted turned into 15. Between that and the 'dead time' waiting for a residential center bed, he was detained 19 months. Through therapy at the residential center, Cayden learned how to recognize his anger building and to take a break. His parents say the family therapy helped them better understand Cayden's needs and helped them all communicate. 'But the school part," Robyn Gillespie says, "that was a disaster.' Gillespie, her husband and Cayden are still trying to understand the consequences of going so long without proper schooling. Initially, they thought he'd go to the local public middle school, but the school said, at 15, he's too old. This spring, they tried to sign him up for Florida Virtual School, the same program he did in custody. Indeed, this was one of the arguments the state made for using virtual school inside confinement. But Robyn Gillespie says Florida Virtual told them he couldn't join so late in the year. Asked about Cayden's case, Florida Virtual said all students 'released from a facility receive one-on-one support from an FLVS transition specialist.' But Cayden's family said they were never offered transition help or told how he could continue where he left off in detention. The best option, they've been told by the local school district, is a charter school, where he can make up coursework quickly. 'That's the kind of place where they dismiss you if you don't show up on time,' says Robyn Gillespie. 'And there's no transportation. I'm just not sure that's going to work well for our family.' The terms of Cayden's probation require him to attend school or face confinement again. He starts at the charter school later this month. Says Gillespie: 'He has to be in school.' ___ The Associated Press receives support from the Public Welfare Foundation for reporting focused on criminal justice, and AP's education coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP's standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at Bianca Vázquez Toness, The Associated Press Error in retrieving data Sign in to access your portfolio Error in retrieving data Error in retrieving data Error in retrieving data Error in retrieving data

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