Two sisters, Maria (Adèle Haenel) and Suzanne (Sara Forestier) were raised in a working-class environment by their widowed father (François Damiens), a cross-country truck driver who has done his best to give his girls the best possible life, in lieu of having a mother to help guide them through some of the more challenging moments. In their adult years, the two sisters have deviated in some ways – Maria is a free-spirited young woman, but who still has solid principles, while her older sister finds herself falling victim to unexpected pressures, including a teenage pregnancy (in which she receives endless support from everyone close to her), and a perilous romance with a petty criminal and low-level gangster named Julien (Paul Hamy), who proves to be a severely negative influence on the young, impressionable woman. Suzanne soon finds herself complicit in one of his crimes and faces a lengthy prison sentence for her part in a crime that she wasn’t even truly an accomplice in, rather being gullible enough to agree to be in the wrong place at a very inopportune moment, after which the man she was so devoted to leaves her behind. Her life after prison is even more tragic – her family has grown distant, even though they try and be as supportive of her rehabilitated life as they can be, and her son has been adopted by a foster family since it was ruled to be the best option for the child. Suzanne struggles to assimilate back into society, especially when it becomes clear how everyone has seemingly moved on without her – their lives have continued and even flourished, and she soon realizes that she is now little more than a stranger in a family that is struggling to accept her back in quite the same way she left.

Bittersweet tragedy pervades every frame of Suzanne, the gorgeous drama by Katell Quillévéré, which explores the relationship between a family over the course of roughly twenty years. We’re introduced to a set of individuals, in particular two sisters, that go through many different challenges, dealing with the troubles of coming-of-age in a working-class community, and facing the incredible temptation that comes when offered the chance to escape and start their lives over in some way, albeit not without consequence. It’s an achingly beautiful social drama that ventures to the core of the human condition, with Quillévéré putting together a series of vignettes, sewn together by their common theme of redemption and self-forgiveness. The gorgeous approach to a very bleak story only bolsters the experience and creates a film that is perfectly calibrated between harrowing tragedy and heartfelt drama, with the director going to great lengths to imbue this film with heart and vigour, while never losing sight of the broader themes that make this such a profoundly moving work. Composed with an incredible sincerity that indicates a filmmaker operating at the most fundamentally humane level, and where the endless compassion of this film becomes a truly unforgettable experience, and where even the most cynical of viewers will find it difficult to not be utterly touched by this powerful tale of navigating a world that can be unexpectedly perilous to those who don’t quite know their place in it yet.

Suzanne is a film that we know is going to be a challenging work from the outset – the emotional gravitas of the film is made very clear from the first moment, and we are entirely aware of the hauntingly beautiful story we’re about to experience. Quillévéré does not have any qualms with taking us to task and presenting us with this incredibly heartbreaking, but ultimately beautifully-composed, saga about the trials and tribulations of an ordinary family, and the result is something quite extraordinary. Suzanne is filled with a turbulent approach to the underlying melancholy that propels most of the plot – we know immediately that this film is going to be filled with moments of downbeat despair, where the director ventures into more harrowing narrative territory, perhaps deriving inspiration from the achingly beautiful work done by the European neo-realists, who touched on similar issues of alienation in times of great psychological upheaval. Yet, there is no shortage of moments in which the film is able to find the hope in even the most heartbreaking of situations, with Quillévéré ensuring that for every moment of anguish, there’s another of unbridled optimism. This is not a film that proposes that life is easy, but rather that there’s always a chance to make it through another day, which is often where the film deviates from more overwrought dramas because instead of building from the misery, it rather chooses to portray life as it actually is, and where the more saccharine or unrealistic elements are left behind in favour of something far more genuine and respectful to the social strata the film seeks to demonstrate.

This is a beautiful film, but one in which the central premise is naturally going to be quite difficult to embrace, which is overcome by Quillévéré’s beautiful approach to conveying a sense of authenticity without becoming too bleak. It ventures deep into the psychology of these characters, exploring their plight and looking at their lives through the lens of a direct, unfettered approach to reality. It’s a poignant exploration of their dynamic over the course of nearly a quarter of a century, where we’re shown various moments of their lives and the choices they tend to make throughout, and how these all impact their relationship on a broader scope. In Suzanne, Quillévéré seems to be boldly stating that it isn’t sufficient to just consider familial bonds without actually getting to the root of what makes individuals stand together, as well as the indelible imprint poor decisions can make. The relationship between Suzanne and Maria changes over time, as does their relationship with their father – they may not stop loving each other, but the strain that some decisions take are thoroughly explored, making for compelling, but ultimately heartwrenching viewing. One just needs to look at some of the film’s more harrowing moments of emotional eruption to understand how Quillévéré is intent on peering deep into the life of this family and their shifting emotional perception – one of the most harrowing moments comes when the titular character is on trial and receiving a lengthy jail sentence, and where the camera is not fixated on her (as would be traditional), but on her father and sister anxiously waiting to hear the verdict, and the heartbreak evoked without even so much as a word speaks directly to the filmmaker’s intent to focus on the intertwining lives of these characters bound by relation, separated by certain life choices.

Family is an important aspect of Suzanne, and Quillévéré does very well in boldly exploring themes normally associated with these kinds of intense dramas, but doing so in a way that is far more effervescent and endearing, rather than being overwrought or overtly miserable. This all comes down to another significant theme of the film, which becomes the focal point of the film – redemption. In focusing on these characters, the director evokes a discussion about the limitless bounds of unconditional love, especially when intersecting with bad decisions that test our devotion to those we are closest to. In presenting us with a few different individuals, Quillévéré is able to develop these characters as fully-formed individuals, where each one of them is compelling in their imperfections, which incites the underlying theme that each one of them, particularly the titular protagonist, is a work in progress, trying desperately to overcome various existential quandaries in order to find a place in a world that just seems hostile to them, based on either their inner qualities or the decisions they’ve made along the way. The ensemble of Suzanne is remarkable – Sara Forestier and Adèle Haenel are astonishing as the main characters, a pair of sisters growing apart as a result of their different personalities, especially considering how much emphasis is placed on their bond, which the actresses convey with an extraordinary authenticity. The heartbreak underpinning their performances is incredible, and whether it be Forestier’s resistance or Haenel’s resilience, they’re immensely effective and carry this film brilliantly. François Damiens is incredible in his supporting role as the girls’ father, who raises them on his own, and has to passively watch as they inevitably slip through his fingers as a result of them growing up and venturing into the world on their own. As a character-driven piece, Suzanne is immensely successful, with the actors’ wonderful work resonating with such a poignant sincerity, we often forget that they’re playing fictional characters.

Suzanne is a film about resistance in many different ways. At the outset, we’re shown a family that may not be particularly impoverished, but do have their own challenges that make their lives somewhat uncomfortable at times. Yet, none of them are willing to have themselves defined by their situation, proving the theory that we’re the product of our surroundings wrong. They venture into a world they are hopelessly unprepared for, and find themselves struggling to stay afloat, yet not losing the spirit of defiance instilled in them by their working-class upbringing. Suzanne and Maria are resistance individuals, and the film explores the bounds of their relationship by testing them during times of great difficulty – whether the challenge is a teenage pregnancy or a tragic death, the characters in Suzanne find themselves seeking solace not in others, as it’s very clear that the answers aren’t lurking elsewhere, but rather looking inward, finding the strength to face the challenges based on our own abilities and desires. Quillévéré has made a film that beautifully blends a poetic story of individuality and the relentless travail against alienation with gritty, harrowing commentary on society and its tendency to ignore those that sometimes need the most guidance. It’s brutally raw, but also deeply compelling, and where the director poignantly rallies against the idea of becoming complacent in your apparently preordained place in the world, and the importance of taking control, despite the challenges we’re presented with. It’s a gorgeous film that endeavours to gather various fragments of life and portray them in a way that imparts a message about always retaining your individuality, and more importantly, never wavering under the pressure of the things we can’t control, but rather learning to accept that everything, whether matters of fate or our own decisions, ultimately make us stronger in some way, even if it’s not always clear immediately.