Venice Dispatch – Saint Omer

Masterpiece alert! Guys, this is why I go to these film festivals – to be completely unprepared for and swept away by raw, staggering talent. French director Alice Diop’s narrative feature debut SAINT OMER is a heart-stopper of a film dealing with madness, sorcery and the profound mystery of womanhood. Breathtakingly, soul-shakingly intelligent, beautiful, empathetic, this one gets a 10 out of 10.

The film is composed of three narrative strands. The first one focuses on Rama (Kayije Kagame), a second-generation African immigrant teaching at a Parisian university. Rama is sharp, independent but has trouble connecting with her mother who still hasn’t integrated into the French culture, stuck in dreams of a distant homeland. Summoned for jury duties, Rama travels to a small town in rural France to attend the trial of Laurence (Guslagie Malanga), a Senegalese woman charged with the murder of her 15-month-old daughter. Thus begins the second strand in which Laurence gives her version of events and answers questions from the judge and the prosecutor. In between the court proceedings and Rama’s reaction to what Laurence says, we get flashbacks to Rama’s childhood, memories that shaped her relationship with her mother.

This is a story about women told by women. By way of an unsettling case of infanticide, the fates of two women are intricately woven together to reveal the special bond between mothers and daughters. I love the duality of the screenplay which is eloquent and exact on the one hand, and dreamily abstract on the other. The densely written courtroom scenes may prove a challenge to those who are used to movie dialogues delivered in digestible bites at comfortable speeds. But in the case of Laurence, it’s essential that we understand every detail of her story. As she so intriguingly says at the beginning of the trial, she does not dispute the killing of the baby, but objects that she should be held responsible for the act. Why? And what could have made a mother decide to end the life that she gave birth to?

The lengthy monologues that Diop and co-writer Marie N’Diaye devised for Laurence are dizzyingly elaborate. They describe a sad, disappearing life as recounted by a sophisticated mind. She is articulate if curiously inconsistent, her choice of expressions minutely deliberate. While most scripts dumb down their characters’ words for easy consumption, SAINT OMER embraces a precision of speech that tells you so much about an unknowable murderer, monster, mother.

The scenes of Rama, meanwhile, are strikingly scant on dialogue, as she takes on the role of the observer. Rama has her share of problems, including a badly concealed 4-month-old one, but she’s kept it all inside. Seeing another dark-skinned woman tell her story, however, triggers something deep and primal that would make her rethink her own choices. Both the verbal and non-verbal characterizations are highly effective, but the true brilliance of the script is revealed when it addresses the female experience in its uniqueness and universality through the defense attorney’s closing remarks. Plainly delivered but bursting with truth, insight and kindness, this is the type of writing that knows the power of words. Simply devastating.

Kagame and Malanga make up one sensational on-screen duo. Each a captivating presence in their own right, Kagame conveys the bubbling insecurities of Rama and Malanga the hidden internal struggles of Laurence to perfection. Their characters never meet, but the intensity of their connection – expressed through nothing but looks – absolutely electrifies. There’s one scene where Laurence turns to the audience, her eyes finding Rama and the corners of her mouth slowly curling into a cryptic smile, that is haunting for the strangeness of its tone and the multitude of meanings it carries.

Diop has a background in documentary filmmaking (having won the top prize at the Encounters section of Berlinale 2021 with NOUS) and her pursuit of authenticity is evident. The way she shoots Rama’s private life buzzes with real, messy energy. And for the courtroom scenes her camera hardly ever moves, allowing the still, clean frames to expose the even most obscured intentions of the participants. For a film that features supernatural elements surrounding a dramatic crime, there’s not one shot that feels false. At the same time, Diop manages to inject a trance-like quality into certain flashback scenes. In one, young Rama watches her mother put on old jewelry and shed a silent tear. In another, home video footage from Rama’s childhood plays over a jazzy rendition of “Little Girl Blue”. Unexplained and seemingly random, these scenes add a touch of dreaminess and pure emotion to the picture that could move one to tears.

Claire Mathon has quickly established herself as one of the best DP’s of her generation (Exhibit 1, 2 and 3). With SAINT OMER, she captures the beauty and mystique of black lives magnificently. Expertly lit and composed, her frames accentuate the rich texture of the black culture and bring out the luminance of the chracters’ skin. One of the best-looking films I’ve seen all year.

One year after Audrey Diwan won the Golden Lion for her shattering abortion drama HAPPENING, can another French female director (deservedly) repeat the feat with another female-centric film? We shall see in 3 days’ time.