THE FILM
By the time Alice Diop’s Saint Omer reaches its unsettling climax, the viewer, much like its protagonist, finds themselves caught in an emotional labyrinth; unsure of how they arrived, or where they’re headed. Diop, a filmmaker whose previous body of work focused on documentaries about the marginalized populations of contemporary France, steps boldly into the world of fiction with a narrative feature that is as rigorously controlled as it is deeply empathetic. Her debut film, which won the Grand Jury Prize and the Luigi De Laurentiis Award for Best Debut Film at the Venice International Film Festival, is not merely a courtroom drama, but a labyrinthine exploration of guilt, motherhood, and the inscrutable nature of human experience.
The film centers on a trial: a young Senegalese woman, Laurence Coly (a haunting Guslagie Malanda), stands accused of purposefully abandoning her 15-month-old daughter to the tide on a beach in Berck, northern France. The infant’s body, left to the mercy of the ocean’s unrelenting pull, is later discovered by fishermen, making Coly a cold-blooded baby killer. Yet, Saint Omer is not a story about guilt or innocence. Instead, it is a dissection of the complex emotional terrain that underpins human actions, probing into the deep well of social and psychological forces that shape and sometimes fracture lives.
At the heart of this investigation is Rama (Kayije Kagame), a novelist of Senegalese descent, who attends the trial to research material for a book. As she observes Laurence, she begins to find disturbing echoes of her own life; her pregnancy, her complicated relationship with her mother, and her own fears and insecurities as a soon-to-be mother. The symmetry between Rama’s story and Laurence’s tragedy is not lost on her, and as the trial progresses, the lines between subject and observer blur.
The film’s tension arises not from dramatic courtroom reveals, but from the quiet, excruciatingly slow peeling away of layers; both in the trial and in the characters. Diop’s gaze is forensic in its steadiness. Every exchange between the characters is elongated, giving the audience time to absorb the weight of every word and gesture. In a world where courtroom dramas often rush toward easy moral conclusions, Diop remains resolutely patient, allowing for ambiguity and doubt to permeate every scene. What she offers instead is an inquiry, one without simple answers, into the lives of two women, whose fates are tied together by forces far beyond the walls of the courtroom.
Rama’s identification with Laurence is both emotional and intellectual, drawing parallels between their shared Senegalese heritage and the anxieties of motherhood. Yet, it is not just the trauma of motherhood that draws them together. It is the inherited weight of colonialism, the isolation of the immigrant experience, and the sharp tension between personal and collective histories that form the undercurrent of this film. Both women navigate a world where their identities as Black women, as immigrants, and as mothers are endlessly scrutinized, often reduced to simplistic narratives of victimhood or criminality.
The court scenes are where Diop’s documentary roots are most evident. Each moment is drawn out with the precision of a seasoned observer. Diop, who attended a similar trial in 2016 which this film is based on, directs with an empathy that refuses to sensationalize or simplify Laurence’s story. The moments where the camera lingers on Laurence’s unflinching demeanor are as vital as those that explore the complex psychology of Rama’s internal struggle. The film allows us to question whether Laurence is a criminal or a victim, but it never offers us easy resolutions. It suggests, rather, that some questions are unanswerable, and that the truth is always just out of reach.
Despite a performance from Kagame that, while compelling, lacks the emotional depth to fully carry the weight of Rama’s internal journey, Saint Omer remains a profoundly thought-provoking work. The quieter, more intimate moments between Rama and Laurence, especially in the second half of the film, are what ultimately linger in the mind. These are moments of subtle connection, of unspoken understanding, which convey the universality of motherhood, trauma, and loss, even as they remain untethered to any one person or event.
In Saint Omer, Diop has crafted something far more nuanced than a mere courtroom drama. Her film is a meditation on the human condition, a stark and elegant exploration of the ways we make meaning out of suffering, identity, and memory. It is a story about the unknowability of another person, about the murky spaces between guilt and innocence, and about the tangled web of social forces that influence our actions. Through the lens of a tragic event, Diop conjures a layered portrait of two women; each struggling to define their place in the world, each at the mercy of forces they cannot control.
In the end, Saint Omer is a film about the limits of empathy, and the fragile connections that bind us to one another. It asks us to confront the fact that sometimes, the more we try to understand someone else, the more we reveal about ourselves. It is a film that stays with you, not because it answers the questions it raises, but because it makes you realize how few of those questions have any easy answers at all and at the finish line, this lady is still a ruthless murderer.
BUY SAINT OMER (CRITERION) HERE
THE VIDEO
Criterion’s Blu-ray release of Alice Diop’s Saint Omer offers a meticulously crafted presentation, true to the spirit of the film itself. The disc is sourced from a “New 2K digital master and Director-approved,” and as expected, the 1080p video is simply flawless. The transfer is stunning in its clarity, with fine detail consistently on display throughout. Diop’s deliberate use of long takes, which allow the camera to linger on the faces of her characters, benefits immensely from this high-definition presentation. Every subtle emotion, from the faintest flicker of doubt in a gaze to the slow, heavy fall of a tear down a cheek, is rendered with pristine precision. This close attention to detail elevates the film’s deeply intimate moments; in which every microexpression speaks volumes; creating an immersive experience that pulls the viewer closer into the complex inner worlds of its characters. Though Saint Omer is predominantly a muted film in terms of color palette; dominated by earthy tones of tan, green, brown, and black, the Blu-ray’s rich, warm transfer does not shy away from accentuating the few bursts of color that appear. The judge’s red robe in the courtroom, for instance, stands out against the subdued backdrop, as does Rama’s yellow shirt, which becomes one of the film’s rare but effective visual pop-points. These flashes of color, though subtle, offer visual relief amid the film’s otherwise restrained aesthetic. The wood tones of the courtroom, in particular, are rendered with such warmth that they almost seem to invite the viewer to linger in their textured richness, adding an unexpected layer of comfort to the otherwise somber setting.
Every detail, from the knitted texture of Laurence Coly’s sweater to the threads in Rama’s jeans, comes into sharp focus. The film’s quiet, everyday scenes; brief exterior shots in Saint-Omer, Pas-de-Calais, and the Hôtel-restaurant where Rama stays; gain an added level of depth, with the surrounding environment feeling more immediate and authentic. Diop’s camera lingers on the cluttered shops, their countless magazines and newspapers now rendered in remarkable clarity, allowing the viewer to scrutinize every visual detail. This long-form approach to the shot structure, which Diop employs to great effect, pays dividends in the home viewing experience. There is ample time for the viewer to absorb every nuance, every gesture, and every small piece of the world Diop has created. The HD transfer doesn’t just bring us closer to the film’s physical details; it amplifies the emotional weight of its content as well. For those who admired the film’s narrative power, this Blu-ray release offers a new dimension to Saint Omer, where the subtleties of the film’s performances and visuals become more tangible. The transfer is a triumph: technically excellent, and artistically true to the spirit of Diop’s evocative storytelling. Whether it’s in the courtroom, on the streets of Saint Omer, or in the intimate spaces where the characters wrestle with their emotions, this HD presentation ensures that every frame is as immersive as the story itself.
THE AUDIO
Criterion’s Blu-ray release of Alice Diop’s Saint Omer offers a richly layered audio experience, with a robust DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track that compliments the film’s stark, emotionally charged atmosphere. The track, presented in its original French with some Italian, is impeccably handled, delivering a dialogue-heavy film with clarity and precision. As with the film’s visual transfer, the audio maintains a subtlety that aligns with Diop’s minimalist, observational style, never overbearing yet always present in the moments that count. Saint Omer is not a film that relies heavily on sound for drama or spectacle, yet the audio track plays an essential role in reinforcing the emotional and thematic undertones. The dialogue, always intelligible and crystal-clear, is placed front and center, occupying the spotlight, as one might expect in a courtroom drama. This is a film about words; about language as both a tool of connection and a barrier between people, and the soundtrack serves that narrative purpose flawlessly. The film’s sparse use of atmospherics; mainly the distant crashing of ocean waves, the murmur of street noise, and the occasional ambient hum, never competes with the human voices. Even in moments where the sounds of the environment would naturally fill the surrounds, the audio mix resists the temptation to spread out, opting instead to keep much of the soundstage focused on the front channels, where the film’s heart lies.
The quiet intimacy of Saint Omer is further underlined by the subtle yet impactful use of the surround speakers. In the vast, echoing courtroom where much of the film unfolds, the track provides an almost imperceptible cavernous reverb, heightening the feelings of isolation experienced by both Laurence Coly and Rama. The use of sound here emphasizes the emotional and psychological distance between the characters, mirroring the film’s visual approach, slow, measured, and resolutely unflashy. This light touch on the surround channels allows the viewer to feel the weight of silence, the pregnant pauses in the courtroom, and the ever-present sense of alienation that runs through the film. It’s a soundscape that never calls attention to itself, but is nonetheless crucial in accentuating the sense of estrangement that permeates every frame. The French dialogue, often delivered in intimate, quiet tones, is rendered with absolute precision, while the background sounds; the natural world outside the courtroom, the slight echo of words spoken, are equally well-handled. The track is never intrusive, but it always contributes to the atmosphere, filling in the subtle gaps that Diop’s visual style leaves open. The Blu-ray release, with its impeccable DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 track, ensures that Diop’s nuanced vision is fully realized, both visually and sonically. It’s a perfect marriage of form and content, where even the quietest moments are imbued with meaning.
THE EXTRAS
- 2022 Interview (HD, 11 Mins.) – Filmmaker Alice Diop is interviewed.
- 2023 Interview (HD, 10 Mins.) – An Audio Interview with the real-life murderer portrayed in the film.
- Alice Diop and Hélène Frappat (HD, 64 Mins.) – Diop and a film critic discuss the film.
- Alice Diop and Dee Rees (HD, 32 Mins.) – A podcast about the film.
- Trailer (HD, 2 Mins.) – Trailer for the film.
- Criterion Booklet
THE ULTIMATE WORD
By the time Saint Omer reaches its haunting final moments, Alice Diop’s debut narrative feature has already plunged us into the deepest, most uncomfortable corners of the human soul. This is not just a courtroom drama, but a slow-burning journey into a world where guilt, motherhood, and identity collide in catastrophic ways. The video presentation, sourced from a 2K digital master, is wonderfully crisp, capturing the film’s muted, earthy color palette with stunning clarity. The audio, too, is exemplary. The dialogue-heavy film is supported by a DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track, which prioritizes clarity and precision. Beyond the film itself, Criterion has included some insightful bonus features, including interviews with Diop and the real-life woman whose case inspired Saint Omer. These interviews offer an invaluable glimpse into the making of the film and the real-life tragedy that inspired it, deepening our understanding of the events and the profound emotional weight that Diop sought to convey. Saint Omer is a film that doesn’t shy away from taboo subjects, but it’s a film that also demands a deeper engagement; one that takes its time to unpack the complexities of its characters, their actions, and the world they inhabit. It’s a strikingly confident debut from Diop, a filmmaker unafraid to ask difficult questions and explore uncomfortable truths. Criterion’s Blu-ray release ensures that this powerful, thought-provoking film can be experienced in all its nuanced, haunting beauty. Highly recommended.
