It only gradually dawns on you as the story of Transit develops, that while we're in present-day France, it's really the world as it was in 1940, with Jewish refugees trying to get out of France before the Germans reach the south of the country. A curious transposition, and one that leads you to wonder whether budgetary concerns about recreating the look of the past also played a part in the decision as well as it obviously allowing the director to universalise the them of Anna Seghers's novel to include the plight of any refugees from any time.
So we follow Georg, determined to make it onto a ship in Marseille, assuming the identity of a deceased writer to get the transit visa he needs. Then he falls in love with a woman who is also trying to get away, and the ethics of keeping up so many lies start to complicate things further.
There are a lot of themes competing for space here, at times to each other's detriment, but the progression is unconventional enough to hook the viewer and reward persevering with it.
7/10
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