Saint Omer

This paints a clear picture of how commonly forced social norms and cultural barriers can largely effect people leading to deplorable acts of violence, almost like a curse that cannot be broken.

I loved what this film presented, a well written, acted and precise story that delivers an interesting broken individual filled with misery. I just wish there was a bit more going on overall with its shot composition, which does the job nicely but in no way stands out, and with it's narrative that, as intriguing as it was, (in my opinion) gave everything it had to give with one viewing.

A good companion piece to Anatomy of a Fall.

I have to start by saying as I was left the theater, I was pretty certain I did not like this movie. The acting was impeccable, but there were many long scenes of people sitting and thinking and it caused me to lose focus. But after leaving and reflecting on the story - and more importantly the facts of the real-life court case - it stuck with me. This movie has clear philosophical aspirations and asks the viewer to think about the limits of the present criminal justice system.

It would represent a failure of imagination to not be able to think of at least a couple reasons that a perpetrator may be justified for such a heinous act. Maybe the mother was coerced in some way (blackmail or threat of violence); or maybe it was an internal force like a psychotic delusion. All of which could - while not fully absolving her of guilt - lessen the immorality of the act. But what if the explanation were not something rational? Her explanation to the mystified judge is that sorcery was responsible and while that explanation may not make sense in the context of a western judicial system - it also does not mean she is entirely unjustified.

What happens to a solitary life that resulting from an unfair hand dealt to them? A life that in turn, echos affecting others? Are we truly better off locking them and sending them away? Or should we be bringing them in?

A multilayered & morally ambiguous legal drama making a valiant attempt to look for humanity in the inhumane, Saint Omer is as empathetic as it is engrossing and offers an arresting insight into motherhood, generational trauma & immigrant experience through the observing eyes of a novelist attending the trial of a mother accused of murdering her 15-month old child.

Co-written & directed by Alice Diop in her feature film debut, the story is borrowed from a real-life court case and follows a woman who begins to interrogate herself after learning about the accused's upbringing, loneliness & pregnancy and its striking similarity to her own life journey. The courtroom proceedings are gripping and each new detail brings its own complexity to the mix.

The film takes an unbiased approach and provides ample breathing space for the defendant to plead her case, even managing to earn our sympathy for her despite her unforgivable act. Also notable is the static, concise camerawork that keeps the unfolding drama at the forefront at all times while convincing performances from its committed cast make sure that the story remains riveting throughout.

Overall, Saint Omer is handled with care, told with compassion and shot with sophistication to deliver a consistently captivating drama that continues to challenge our morality & perception from start to finish. An impressive debut feature for the French documentarian that works best when allowed to simmer for a while, this French courtroom drama isn't an easy sit but is worth your time. Definitely recommended.

Saint Omer is a 2022 French legal drama film directed by Alice Diop and starring Kayije Kagame and Guslagie Malanda. It is based on the true story of Fabienne Kabou, a mother who left her 15-month-old daughter on a beach to be drowned by the tide in 2013. The film follows Rama (Kagame), a pregnant novelist who attends the trial of Laurence Coly (Malanda), the fictionalized version of Kabou, to write a modern adaptation of the ancient Greek myth of Medea, who killed her children to punish her unfaithful husband.

Saint Omer is a powerful and nuanced exploration of the complex issues of motherhood, immigration, identity, and justice. Diop, known for her documentaries, brings a realistic and empathetic approach to the story, avoiding sensationalism and judgment. She also attended the real trial of Kabou in 2016, which inspired her to make the film. The film does not attempt to justify or condemn Coly's actions but rather to understand her motivations and circumstances.

The story is divided into two parts: the first one focuses on Rama's perspective as she observes the trial and interviews Coly in prison, while the second one shifts to Coly's flashback as she recounts her life in France and Senegal, her relationship with her partner and daughter, and her mental state leading up to the crime. The film contrasts Rama and Coly to highlight their similarities and differences as women of Senegalese origin living in France. Both face racism, sexism, isolation, and pressure from their families and society but have different privileges, opportunities, and choices.

The movie also draws parallels between Coly's story and the Medea myth, showing how both women are driven by love, betrayal, anger, and despair to commit an unthinkable act. The film uses references to Medea throughout, such as the names of the characters (Rama is an anagram of Mara, Medea's sister), the locations (Berck is similar to Corinth, where Medea killed her children), and the dialogue (Coly quotes lines from Euripides' play). The film also shows how Rama uses the myth to cope with her fears and doubts about becoming a mother.

Saint-Omer features excellent performances from the two lead actresses, who convey a range of emotions with subtlety and intensity. Kagame portrays Rama as a smart, ambitious woman who is also vulnerable and conflicted. Malanda portrays Coly as a tragic and complex figure who elicits sympathy and horror. The film also has a strong technical aspect, with beautiful cinematography by Claire Mathon (who also shot Portrait of a Lady on Fire), an atmospheric score by Thibault Deboaisne, and tight editing by Amrita David.

The one thing that undermines the greatness of Saint-Omer is the pacing. The first time I watched the film, I found the pacing unbearable. But, I decided to see it a second time, embraced the slowness, and found I was noticing aspects of the story I had missed the first time. I think, though, that the pacing will be a challenge for some viewers.

Saint Omer is a film that challenges us to think beyond the headlines and stereotypes and confront our biases and assumptions. The film raises questions without giving easy answers and invites empathy without condoning violence. It is a film that shows how art can be a way to deal with trauma and pain and how it can be insufficient or inadequate. It is a film that was with me long after it ended - the second time around.

Alice Diop and her cast are truly amazing... In previous work (Vers la tendresse), she managed to capture some of the emotional struggles of young French men with a migratory background and living in economically deprived Parisian suburbs. In Saint Omer, she focuses on the emotional struggles of women from a similar background. This is the story of two daughters, Rama and Laurence. Rama is a symbol of the French meritocratic system. From a modest background and of African descent, she is a university professor and a successful novelist. We understand that her mother, probably a cleaning lady, used to leave home very early to go to work. Laurence, a former student in philosophy, passionate about Wittgenstein, "never wanted for anything". With the financial support of her parents, she emigrated from Senegal as a young adult to study in France. Laurence is being tried for killing her 15-month-old daughter and Rama is attending her trial. As she listens to Laurence, her chldhood, her relationship with her parents, and in particular her mom, Rama is brought to reflect and feel about her relationship with her own mother. Laurence and Rama are two highly assimilated women, materially standing on the sore shoulders of their respective mothers, and who have achieved a level of social success that is often denied to men from similar communities. And yet, deep down, both of them suffer from the (perceived?) lack of warmth and love of their mothers, with terrible consequences for Laurence and her relationship with her own daughter.

This is a story about parental love, and in particular between emotionally struggling mothers and their unseen daughters. It's not specific to any community or economic background. What, to me, makes it a true masterpiece, is the compassion we are left feeling for all these women.