Jodie Foster has always been a master of reinvention. Over the course of her decades-long career, the Oscar-winning actress has played everything from a child prostitute to an FBI agent to a stranded astronaut. She’s moved from Hollywood prodigy to respected director, from the face of American cinema to a quietly powerful presence behind the camera. Yet even after all this time, Foster is still finding new ways to challenge herself—and this year, that challenge came in the form of a French mystery film that tested both her fluency and her courage.
On October 5, Foster attended the New York Film Festival for the screening of A Private Life, a French-language psychological thriller that has already made waves since premiering at Cannes earlier this year. For the 62-year-old actress, it represents a rare first: her debut as the lead in a French-language film. Though Foster has been fluent in French since childhood—she attended a French prep school and often conducts interviews in the language—this marks the first time she’s carried an entire film speaking it. It’s something she’s wanted to do for decades but never quite found the right project for until now.
“It’s something I wanted to do for a long time,” Foster said during a post-screening Q&A. “I’ve made a few French films, but never with this much dialogue and in a starring role. I finally found the right role, the right script, and the right director.”
The film, directed by French filmmaker Rebecca Zlotowski, tells the story of a psychiatrist, played by Foster, who becomes suspicious after the supposed suicide of one of her patients. Convinced that something darker has occurred, she begins to unravel a web of mystery and deceit, all while confronting the emotional wreckage of her past—specifically her strained relationship with her ex-husband, portrayed by Daniel Auteuil. It’s a story that’s part psychological thriller, part character study, and part love letter to the complexity of human relationships.
The premise might sound familiar to fans of Foster’s work. Throughout her career, she has gravitated toward characters whose intellect and emotional resilience are tested by trauma or mystery. Whether as Clarice Starling in The Silence of the Lambs or as the grieving mother in Flightplan, Foster’s screen presence has always combined rationality with vulnerability. But in A Private Life, that duality is filtered through a new lens—a French one.
Despite her long-standing relationship with the French language, Foster confessed that she was nervous about taking on such a linguistically demanding role. “I was nervous,” she admitted during the discussion. “I kept telling Rebecca, ‘I’m a little scared.’ So I came three weeks ahead of time just to be in the city and not talk to any American friends—only French people. I think that was helpful.”
Her preparation wasn’t just about brushing up on her language skills. It was about immersion—sinking into the rhythm of French life, its cadence, its subtleties, and its unspoken codes. Foster knew that even though she could speak the words, embodying the emotional texture of a French character was something deeper. “It’s not just about pronunciation,” she said in an earlier interview. “It’s about rhythm, about energy. The French speak with a kind of emotional logic that’s very different from Americans.”
Throughout A Private Life, Foster speaks almost entirely in French, though the director made room for a few small English moments—sometimes just a word, sometimes a curse. “Rebecca had to put in a few little Anglicisms, a few little American things here and there,” Foster said with a smile. The subtle touches give her character a sense of realism, reflecting the cross-cultural identity that has long mirrored Foster’s own.
For the festival audience, the performance was mesmerizing. Zlotowski and the Q&A moderator praised Foster’s linguistic authenticity, and the audience broke into applause when the conversation turned to her fluency. Watching an American actress—one who’s already achieved so much—step into a French film and not only keep up but excel, felt like witnessing a new layer of her artistry being revealed.
But the language wasn’t the only adjustment Foster faced. The production environment in France was unlike anything she’d experienced in Hollywood. “The crews are smaller in France, and people overlap and do lots of jobs,” she noted. “That’s not something we do in America. In America, even on a tiny movie, pretty much everybody has kind of a job that they do. But in the French world, no.”
The collaborative and improvisational atmosphere, though refreshing, took some getting used to. Zlotowski herself was deeply involved in all aspects of the production, often stepping in to decorate sets or offer props directly to actors. “She gave me her coat to wear, which I was like, ‘We don’t do this in America,’” Foster recalled with a laugh. That intimacy, however, created a sense of community that Foster grew to appreciate. “It’s a little bit more family, a little bit more fluid. You feel like everyone’s making the same thing together,” she said.
Even the physical spaces of French filmmaking added their own challenges. One particularly memorable scene required Foster to perform in a real, working elevator—a tight, creaking, authentically French lift. “I’ve made a lot of scenes in elevators, but not real ones,” she said. “Not real, tiny little French elevators.” That realism, both spatial and emotional, lends A Private Life a distinct texture, grounding its suspense in the everyday details of European life.
The film’s director, Rebecca Zlotowski, is known for exploring themes of identity, femininity, and desire in works such as An Easy Girl and Planetarium. Pairing her introspective storytelling with Foster’s razor-sharp intelligence proved to be an inspired match. Zlotowski reportedly tailored the script with Foster in mind, knowing that her bilingual background and emotional subtlety could carry the film’s psychological weight. The result is a collaboration that feels both natural and surprising—a blending of Hollywood craftsmanship with French cinematic introspection.
For Foster, A Private Life isn’t just another film. It’s a full-circle moment in her life-long connection to French culture. She has often described France as a second home, one that shaped her artistic sensibilities as much as Los Angeles did. Growing up, she attended the Lycée Français de Los Angeles, a school that taught entirely in French. By the time she was 14, she was fluent, and at 18, she gave a full acceptance speech in French when she received an award at the Cannes Film Festival.
Over the years, France has continued to embrace her as one of its own. She has received the honorary title of Commander in the Order of Arts and Letters and, more recently, was awarded the César Honorary Award for her contributions to cinema. In interviews, she has spoken warmly of French storytelling, admiring its ability to embrace ambiguity and emotion without spoon-feeding audiences. “French cinema is about the in-between,” she once said. “It’s about what’s not said, what’s felt rather than shown. That’s something I’ve always loved.”
That appreciation shines through in A Private Life. The film avoids easy answers, unfolding instead as a slow, deliberate exploration of grief, suspicion, and identity. It’s less about the question of whether a crime has been committed and more about what drives people to believe in truth or illusion. In that sense, it feels quintessentially French—a film that trusts its audience to sit with uncertainty.
For all its mystery, the movie is deeply personal. Foster’s character, a woman confronting both external and internal ghosts, feels like a culmination of the roles she’s played throughout her career. She’s intelligent but haunted, composed yet fragile, seeking truth in a world that doesn’t offer it easily. Critics at Cannes called her performance “riveting,” praising her ability to express volumes through silence. It’s a kind of acting that doesn’t rely on grand gestures but on presence, nuance, and humanity—traits Foster has mastered over a lifetime.
During the New York screening, Foster’s humility was evident. She laughed often, joked with the audience, and expressed deep gratitude for the opportunity to work in French. When asked if she’d like to do more French films, she didn’t hesitate. “I hope so,” she said, smiling. “Maybe next time it’ll be a comedy. I’ve done enough of the serious stuff.”
It was a lighthearted remark, but it carried the subtext of someone who isn’t done exploring. After all, Foster’s career has always been about evolution. From her child acting days in Taxi Driver to directing Money Monster and The Beaver, she has consistently sought roles that challenge her intellectually and emotionally. A Private Life fits perfectly into that tradition—a risk that paid off.
Her willingness to step into discomfort seems to be what keeps her artistry alive. “Every time I feel that fear, I know it’s a good sign,” she once said. “It means I’m not just repeating myself.” That philosophy has guided her for decades, and it’s what makes each of her performances feel distinct, even when revisiting familiar emotional territory.
There’s also something deeply moving about watching an American icon fully immerse herself in another culture’s storytelling tradition. In an era when Hollywood often prizes global appeal but not necessarily global understanding, Foster’s effort feels genuine and rare. She’s not performing French culture; she’s participating in it. It’s not about showing off her fluency—it’s about surrendering to a new rhythm of storytelling.
At the festival, her presence drew a packed audience. Fans and critics alike were eager to see this new side of her. She walked the carpet in understated elegance, greeting people with warmth rather than star power. When she took the stage after the screening, the crowd’s applause was both for the film and for the artist who continues to surprise them.
That night, the atmosphere in the theater reflected more than admiration—it was respect. Respect for a performer who has refused to settle into predictability, who continues to find new languages, both literal and metaphorical, to express herself. Jodie Foster doesn’t just act; she studies, she listens, she transforms.
A Private Life isn’t a loud movie. It’s quiet, thoughtful, and deliberate—much like Foster herself. But it lingers, drawing viewers into its mystery not with spectacle, but with empathy and curiosity. In many ways, it mirrors her career: understated yet powerful, controlled yet deeply emotional.
When the Q&A ended and the applause filled the theater, Foster seemed visibly moved. She smiled shyly, as if still adjusting to being praised for something that had once made her anxious. “Thank you,” she said softly, in French. For her, it wasn’t just another festival appearance. It was a homecoming of sorts—a return to the language, culture, and storytelling tradition that helped shape her long before Hollywood did.
As she continues to defy expectations and chart her own path, Jodie Foster remains one of cinema’s most quietly fearless artists. A Private Life is more than a film for her; it’s a statement of artistic freedom and personal connection. It’s proof that after all these years, she’s still in pursuit of discovery, still willing to take risks, still guided by the same restless curiosity that has defined her since she first stepped in front of a camera.
And as the lights dimmed at Lincoln Center that evening, it was clear to everyone in the room that Foster had achieved something rare. She hadn’t just played a role—she had crossed borders, both linguistic and emotional, and found a new voice in a language that has always been part of her story. After decades of captivating audiences in English, Jodie Foster had done it again, this time en français, reminding the world that true artistry has no boundaries.
