Mothers on the Edge of a Nervous Breakdown
As a French journalist who knew little about Norwegian cinema other than its figurehead for foreign distributors Joachim Trier, I suspected that the 35th Tromso International Film Festival would be a great source of learning for me.
First of all, I discovered that a film festival could take place in rather difficult climatic conditions. Outdoor screenings were held in the snow. Cinemas that were initially only a few metres from each other became distant when the ice came in and slowed our every step. Finally, the ambition to be perfectly dry and well-dressed in all circumstances had to be lowered.
But once we overcame these inconveniences, a profoundly exciting world opened up. We discovered “Norway’s biggest festival”, according to its director Lisa Hoen. With more than 130 films screened in many different categories (“Films from the North” of course, but also “East Side Stories” or, even more surprisingly, a focus on Iranian cinema), the event’s catalogue offers plenty of choice. And fortunately, it’s finding its audience! Theatres were packed, whether for a “popular” film like Babygirl (directed by Halina Reijn, USA) or an archive documentary on Leni Riefenstahl shown in the morning (directed by Andres Veiel, Germany).
In Tromso, we can admire images other than those projected on the big screen. A landscape between sea and mountains, of course, but also beautiful murals in the Verdensteatret. Open to the public since 1916, it is said to be the oldest cinema in Norway and one of the oldest in Europe.
But it was watching some of the films in the competition that reminded me that the most impermanent beauty is that of imperfection. That there can be greatness in incompletion and renunciation. That one could love badly, but love deeply in spite of it all.
It was in front of the maternal figures of four films in competition that my reflection gradually took shape.
First, there were the women for whom giving birth or not giving birth was a guarantee of personal fulfillment. Guada, the teenager in Gaucho Gaucho (directed by Gregory Kershaw and Michael Dweck, USA and Argentina), quickly realised that she would have to choose between motherhood and her dream of becoming a female Gaucho. In a wide black-and-white shot in which two characters converse on opposite sides of the frame – a device used (and abused) by the filmmaking duo – Guada observes another young woman breastfeeding her baby. She reminds her that the risks involved in riding can lead to infertility, and that the time she devotes to her career is incompatible with the energy needed to care for a child. But Guada is sure: she will lead a life normally reserved for men, not a life of motherhood. Watching her slowly slide down the side of a horse to learn how to dismount it, and then later, observing the harmony of her galloping on horseback, we can see that the sensuality of her body and the strength of her personality are at the service of what she really considers to be her own baby, the horse.
Being a mother according to the affective level doesn’t have to mean carrying life. The Assessment (directed by Fleur Fortuné, Germany, England and USA) is a disconcerting demonstration of this. In a dystopian world where a couple has to get the approval of an assessor to be entrusted with a child, you have to be morally exemplary to be declared a parent. Well, in theory… In this daring and surprising debut, aspiring mother Mia (bravely played by Elizabeth Olsen) seems to fall for the game of treating evaluator Virginia (stunningly played by Alicia Vikander) as her own daughter. In trying to educate Virginia, it’s Mia who demeans herself. She demeans herself physically by collecting her discarded food, getting on top of her to channel her energy or save her life. Mia demeans herself by accepting the unacceptable. But this test of motherhood also brings out her greatest qualities, including courage and generosity.
Western societies are in the process of opening up the subject of an ambivalent relationship with motherhood. It’s good to see that in recent years, American cinema has astutely seized upon this complexity (think of Marielle Heller’s Nightbitch). Mona Achache’s objective in her documentary Little Girl Blue (France) seems to be to show the untroubled reality of a mother-daughter relationship. The filmmaker traces the life of her mother, Carole, who grew up too fast, while remaining a child in need of absolute love. The filmmaker brings her ghost back to life through the body of Marion Cotillard (invested in her role, as usual). At first, it may seem like a New Age therapy aimed at freeing her from a transgenealogical heritage too heavy for her to bear, but in the end, it’s a film about an imperfect mother that we’re given to see. The admirable work of editor Valérie Loiseleux reveals the similarity of three generations of Achache women, from their similar physiques to their traumas (particularly sexual and relational). This film reminds us of two things about motherhood. The first, that a mother is always first and foremost a daughter even if she has forgotten it. The second, being a mother does not necessarily mean being maternal.
Finally, there are those mothers we all know from near and far. We call them smothering mothers. In the Palestinian film Happy Holidays, Scandar Copti shows the figure of the mother who no longer knows what to do to protect her children. A mother who readily intervenes in her children’s life choices. Wafaa Aoun’s interpretation of Hanane, which won an award at the Marrakech International Film Festival, highlights the fine line between maternal protection and parental authority. Like Najmeh in The Seed of the Sacred Fig (Dâne-ye anjîr-e ma’âbed, directed by Mohammad Rasoulof), Hanane is one of those mothers who struggle to love their children freely without burdening them with the straitjacket of religion and the traditional values that have built them up.
After seeing these films, you’ll no doubt reconsider the bucolic vision of motherhood taught at school. But at least you’ll see clearly.
©FIPRESCI 2025