Saint Omer
The French documentarian Alice Diop tackles her first narrative feature with an award-winning drama based on a real court case.
Kayije Kagame
When Alice Diop's Saint Omer came to an end the phrase that immediately entered my head was the well-known saying attributed to Robert Louis Stevenson: "It is better to travel hopefully than to arrive". Although the film had not gripped me immediately, it certainly did so once it got into its stride and in a way which suggested that in undertaking her first dramatic feature Diop, already well established as a documentarian, was wholly at ease in this new territory. Saint Omer takes place largely in the French town of that name where a Senegalese philosophy student, Laurence Coly (Guslagie Malanda), is on trial for killing her 15-months old daughter having placed her on a beach where the tide took her out to sea. In choosing this subject matter, Diop, both director and co-author here, was drawing on a real-life case of a comparable kind which she had attended in 2016. Indeed, the screenplay offers a second leading character in the person of a woman named Rama (Kayije Kagame) who, witnessing the court proceedings, echoes Diop’s own experience.
Many who go to see Saint Omer will do so in the knowledge that it centres on a court hearing in which case it is likely that its opening scenes will not strike them as being a natural introduction to that. That's because the film starts well away from Saint Omer and its court. Instead, it puts the focus on Rama who is introduced to us as a novelist and as a university professor. In the latter capacity we see her referencing the work of Marguerite Duras and discussing her treatment of the leading female character in that noted avant-garde film of 1959 Hiroshima Mon Amour. If the relevance of that is initially hard to grasp, things do not really improve when we move on to scenes of Rama's partner and family without it being made entirely clear who is who. Rama does then travel to Saint Omer and seeks out the courtroom - at which point the film suddenly switches focus and concentrates on Laurence so that her story can emerge. Only later is it explained that Rama is attending because she hopes that it will help her with a planned novel which will be a modern retelling of the story of Medea (this later becomes an excuse to include a clip of Maria Callas as Medea in Pasolini’s film, but it’s done in a way which may confuse anyone unfamiliar with that work).
However, any problems over giving the narrative a natural flow largely fade away once the court hearings become central. The story of infanticide that now unfolds has its own inherent drama, but at the same time the portrayal of the trial itself is notably atmospheric and impactful. The film steers well away from any sense of melodrama or staged surprises and, aided perhaps by Diop’s previous work being in the documentary field, her direction serves to capture the sense of formality that marks the hearing. Her unorthodox but highly effective mode of shooting favours static shots, especially in the images of Laurence. This leads to many moments when such shots are held even as others address her, their words heard but their faces initially unseen. Similarly, the voice of a witness is often heard before that person is actually seen. Such touches emphasise the personal experience that Laurence is undergoing as the procedures of the law play out around her.
Another striking feature of Saint Omer lies in the extent to which women have pride of place both in front of the camera and behind it. All four central characters are female. If Laurence and Rama are the leading roles, it becomes apparent that the other most significant figures are the judge presiding over the hearing (Valérie Dréville) and a woman who, like Rama, is present as an observer. The latter, Odile Diatta (Salimata Kamate), becomes known to Rama and turns out to be Laurence's mother. The female contribution elsewhere includes the editing by Amrita David, who similarly worked with Diop on her documentary feature We (2019), and the impressive colour photography by Claire Mathon. Meanwhile, a further factor personally linking Diop to the storyline is that she herself is of Senegalese descent.
All of these elements add to the increasing impact of Saint Omer as it unfolds its tale and what emerges raises all kinds of questions as the court seeks to establish Laurence’s past history, her character, the details of how the death of her child came about and her state of mind when that happened. The testimonies heard become conflicting, so who to believe? And, if the information becomes this inconsistent, is it due to outright lying, to amnesia, to false memories, to depression, to mental instability or even to supernatural forces being at work (the latter are believed in by both Laurence and by her mother)?
As this suggests, Saint Omer is a film with plenty going for it, but my hopes were ultimately unfulfilled. For one thing the tone of the courtroom scenes seems to change due to the sudden introduction of music on the soundtrack and to the inclusion of big speeches by the judge and the defence counsel (Aurélia Petit) which seem to lack the sense of authenticity so strong up to that point. Even more disappointing is the film's failure to guide us towards recognising and understanding its aims. There is, for example, no indication of what weight should be put on Laurence’s sincere belief in sorcery as something affecting her mindset. What we do get is much emphasis on the ties between mothers and daughters, a factor which, because Rama is a mother-to-be, links her in some way with Laurence (indeed, there are also flashbacks involving Rama’s mother). The purpose of this parallel remains indistinct while the references in court by the defence attorney to mothers carrying in their bodies a trace of their children (even dead ones) seems part of the now inappropriately heightened tone.
By the close I could not decide what Diop wanted me to take away from her film which changed tone even further when ending with Nina Simone and the song ‘Little Girl Blue’. Of course, other viewers may find themselves more able to interpret the closing section of the film than I was and the acting remains excellent throughout. Indeed, despite my strong reservations, I would nevertheless assert that there is much here that is sufficiently distinctive and individual to indicate that Alice Diop’s talent is by no means limited to documentary work.
MANSEL STIMPSON
Cast: Kayije Kagame, Guslagie Malanda, Valérie Dréville, Salimata Kamate, Aurélia Petit, Xavier Maly, Robert Cantarella, Thomas de Pourquery, Adama Diallo Tamba, Mariam Diop, Dado Diop.
Dir Alice Diop, Pro Toufik Ayadi and Christophe Barral, Screenplay Alice Diop, Amrita David and Marie N’Diaye, Ph Claire Mathon, Pro Des Anna Le Mouël, Ed Amrita David, Music Thibault Deboaisne, Costumes Annie Melza Tiburce.
Srab Films/Arte France Cinéma/ Pictanovo/Canal+/Cine+-Picturehouse Entertainment.
122 mins. France. 2022. US Rel: 23 January 2023. UK Rel: 3 February 2023. Cert. 12A.
