Saint Omer

This was a fairly interesting courtroom drama about alienation and clashing cultures where certain parts of Coly's life were reflected in that of Rama's. Both women are Senegalese, are in interracial relationships, and have complex relationships with their mothers. Aside from a couple brief scenes here and there and a few quality close up shots, the film doesn't do a whole lot with Rama's connection to Coly. The scenes which occur outside of the courtroom which give us a personal look at how the court hearing is affecting Rama feel rushed through as the film is constantly eager to cut back to the lengthy courtroom sequences. Fortunately, what we get in that regard is quite thought provoking and layered. While watching it, I frequently thought about my experience reading "Native Son". While neither works attempt to apologize for the crimes of the respective characters in each, they instead portray the various factors which led to the crimes taking place and recontexualize the violent criminal trope which is used all too often and instead portray them more as everyday humans. The more Coly opens up throughout the film, the more we begin to understand the various factors which shaped her and led to her actions. The most telling bits for me was when her boyfriend (who's noticeably much older than her) was revealed to have gone through great lengths to hide Coly from his family and ignored her distress when she needed him the most. While understanding the nature of a crime is interesting though, so were the parallels between Coly and Rama. Given how much Rama's character existed on the outside edges of the film and how it kept seeming like we'd finally be given more to latch on to with her, there were some noticeable missed opportunities involved. The film had quite a lot of potential and capitalized on maybe 2/3 of it at best. Still though, the film sat decently well with me upon reflection and thinking about its themes and strategies later on was enjoyable. I think I preferred that over watching the film.

In a court room in Saint Omer a lady's tried, it's quite bizarre just what she's done, the reasons why, as she's questioned by the beak, the facts and reasons she doth seek, as to why a baby girl was drowned and died. The defendant makes the case that there's a curse, that's been administered by someone who'a averse, to the things that she has done, the way she's lived under the sun, it's intriguing but it's also quite perverse. In the stalls a woman listens with intent, the story of a life, the way that it's been bent, finds too many parallels, in the tale that she sells, and it causes her some confusing lament.

It's a curious piece of filmmaking based on real events, events that are perhaps more relatable to the filmmaker than anyone else, but it's a fascinating watch and might introduce you to the ways of the French legal system, some Greek mythology and/or the conditioning that some people undergo (intentional or otherwise) that can result in the most extreme of outcomes.

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.

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.

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?