There are countless ways to explore grief in art, which reflects the fact that there isn’t any singular guide to grieving, and that we all process loss differently. Some of the most compelling and intriguing works have been produced by those who attempt to explore the world through the eyes of someone who is mourning, with some more unconventional depictions usually being the most captivating. This is the case for Julia Ducournau, who uses Alpha (her third directorial outing) to explore the topic, which allows the director to construct a fascinating and compelling argument about the nature of grief. Set in a nameless coastal town in what appears to be an alternate reality, the film follows the titular Alpha, who has just entered her teenage years and is desperately trying to survive the pressures of high school. Concurrently, the country is going through an epidemic, where a mysterious disease causes those infected to turn into marble statues. When Alpha returns home from a party one evening with a mysterious tattoo carved into her arm, her mother (a doctor, exhausted by the burden of having to care for the population during this crisis) starts to panic, thinking her daughter is on a path of self-destruction. Very soon, Alpha’s uncle Amin comes to stay with them for the sake of aiding his own recovery from heroin, which has caused almost his entire life to fall apart. Over time, Alpha and Amin find themselves to be kindred spirits, but in the process, discover some disturbing truths about life that most choose to ignore, only further pushing them towards existential despair. A fascinating character study by a director who has made it clear that she intends to challenge and provoke conventions through her unique style of body horror, Alpha is a truly impressive work – following similar narrative patterns as her previous films, Ducournau sets out to question the nature of reality and societal expectations, carving a precise and captivating exploration of the human psychology, viewing some of life’s biggest mysteries through the eyes of someone who seems to see through the veneer of reality with unusual clarity, leading to a film that may not be entirely cohesive as a whole, but has an audacity that we most certainly can appreciate, even if it is only from a distance at certain points.

As was the case with her two previous films, Ducournau is exploring a few core themes that form the foundation of her artistic pursuits. Alpha is another coming-of-age story set in a slightly dystopian version of contemporary France, following a young woman navigating that awkward space between adolescence and adulthood, attempting to make sense of a world she has never truly understood. Raw used cannibalism as a metaphor for a girl growing into her maturity, whereas Titane made use of industrial horror as a means to represent queerness and identity. Alpha continues this streak by using the concept of a disease to show the young protagonist discovering the dangers lurking beyond her doorstep. It is certainly Ducournau’s most bold film in terms of thematic content – the unnamed disease (referred to by the characters as the “red wind”) is clearly a metaphor for HIV/AIDS, and both the widespread panic and the social stigma attached to it (which we can see in the sporadic conversations on Alpha’s tattoo – the large red “A” is clearly a reference to The Scarlet Letter, a very common trope that Ducournau effectively weaves into the fabric of this film) becoming a point of conversation. However, the director isn’t interested in making a film solely about disease and how those who are infected are determined to be social pariahs – this is just the starting point for an examination of grief. We usually tend to see the subject explored as the pain felt in the aftermath of a loss, but Alpha looks at another kind, an anticipatory grief where we mourn the loss of someone who is slowly dying before our eyes, which many say can be even more painful, since the experience of seeing a loved one gradually fade away can drain every bit of colour from the heart and soul of the people left behind. It’s a film layered with deep, meaningful conversations on a range of themes, but it all ultimately circles back to the concept of a young girl finding out the secrets lurking beneath a seemingly simple, idyllic life, and the true dangers that are patiently awaiting her arrival around every corner.

The themes that propel Alpha are certainly interesting, but they’re only effective due to Ducournau’s execution of these broad ideas. In the hands of another filmmaker, it would have been hopelessly overwrought at one end of the extreme, or blatantly flippant on the other. One of the reasons I admire the director’s work is that she doesn’t simply resort to shock value to deliver an impactful message – her films are teeming with emotion, and while some moments may be overwrought, the emotions feel earned, and there is a sincerity lurking beneath the surface that makes them so much more meaningful. Considering this is primarily a coming-of-age story about a young girl engaged in an ongoing psychological tug-of-war with both her dedicated but dispirited mother and her freewheeling uncle, who has been forced to face the consequences for his laissez-faire lifestyle, there is some degree of sentimentality in how it explores their relationship. Ducournau very smartly filters a lot of these more obvious emotions into creative decisions – she may not be as subtle with metaphor as some of her peers, but she certainly has an original vision, which can border on obvious at times, but never feels as tacky as it would have been had a different director tackled the same material. It also helps that the film is superbly well-directed, with a lot of attention to visual cues that supplement (if not outright guide) the story to some fascinating places. Some may take issue with her writing, but there’s no doubt that Ducournau has a visual flair, and Alpha proves to be some of her most intriguing work in terms of compositions. The muted colours for the majority of the film exist to create a sense of unease and despair, with the occasional burst of colour almost being a frightening surprise, as if it is implying something is amiss – and it all sets the stage for the final climactic moments, when we finally witness the “red wind” in a stunning, harrowing conclusion that leaves us absolutely exhilirated and disturbed. Every choice is intentional and compelling, and leads to a film that holds our attention through very precise, meaningful attention to both visual and emotional detail, the two working in conjunction to bring this exhilarating story to life.

Additionally, one of Ducournau’s most undeniable gifts is her ability to spot talent, which is particularly impressive considering all of her films are coming-of-age stories. In much the same way Raw and Titane were led by Garance Marillier and Agathe Rousselle respectively (both newcomers), Alpha features the young Mélissa Boros as the titular character, another teenager who is rebelling against the world but realising that she cannot run away from her fate, which is apparently predetermined by the simple fact that she was born into this particular era. She’s a wonderful lead, bringing so much complexity to a very challenging role – it’s not easy to make this kind of young protagonist seem endearing, but Boros manages to not only deliver a strong performance, but help us understand the plight of this aimless young woman. However, while she may be the centrepiece of the film, Alpha is equally as reliant on two of the supporting performers, both of whom deliver exceptional work that is amongst their very best. Tahar Rahim has become an undeniable presence in the European arthouse, having grown into one of our most respected and versatile actors. We see another side of him in Alpha – his gaunt, skeletal appearance (achieved through a physical transformation that highlights his effort to add authenticity to the part) is unforgettable, especially considering how much of the film relies on the physicality of its actors to deliver the message that spoken words could never convey. It’s some of Rahim’s most exciting, daring work, and while some may make an argument towards some of the other terrific films he made throughout his career, I’d easily consider Alpha to be some of his career-best work. Similarly, Golshifteh Farahani has left her mark through work she’s done on multiple continents – and while she may not have the extensive arc as Boros or the transformative role of Rahim, she is the constant, steady presence that adds some reliability to this story, proof that there is still some order in the world in which these characters live. The three central performances in Alpha are all fantastic, with the actors committing wholeheartedly to the exploration of these complex, striking roles that are both challenging and unconventionally moving.

While it may certainly not reach the impossible heights of Raw or Titane, this film is nonetheless an impressive achievement all on its own, and a large part of that is due to Ducournau choosing to be steadfast and unapologetic in how she executes her vision. This results in Alpha being an acquired taste, but what it lacks in cohesion it more than makes up for in sheer ambition. There is always value in audacity, and few filmmakers have been more earnestly committed to pushing boundaries for the sake of not solely shocking audiences, but delivering a message that is strong and meaningful. The subject matter is familiar enough for us to understand what is being communicated, but it also has a flexibility that we certainly can appreciate in terms of allowing us to interpret these deeper messages in our own way, which opens the door for some fascinating conversations. Alpha is not a film that we can simply take on face value – it requires patience and a willingness to navigate its many peculiar layers. It moves at a quieter pace, and the dueling timelines can be somewhat difficult to follow at times – but if we simply allow ourselves to surrender to the atmosphere of the film, giving it space to develop its complex ideas, the more evident it becomes that there are layers here that cannot be easily penetrated without some active, dynamic engagement with the material. The results speak for themselves – a bold, daring and quietly devastating coming-of-age story that reveals deeper truths about the fragility of life, the insincerity of society when it comes to the treatment of those who don’t fit into any preconceived categories, or who they’ve deemed to be worthy of being exiled. It all amounts to a film that may not say anything particularly revolutionary, but provokes the status quo through conducting some harrowing imagery and deeply unsettling conversations that feel so much more complex in practice than we may have expected at a cursory glance.