Milla (Valérie Massadian, 2017): France

Reviewed by: Juliana Carbon Viewed at: AFI FEST 2017

The words to describe the film Milla, directed by the truly talented Valerie Massadian, range all across the board. Some of the words that I would use include long, confusing, thought provoking, dramatic, and wildly interesting. As said before the film’s beginning by Massadian herself, “I like to let my film speak for itself but with that being said: be patient.” My response to that warning is this: patience is worth it. The story initially follows the story of a young couple, wildly in love and hopelessly poor, striving to get by in a squatted in house, entertained by the most mundane of tasks and containing a lighthearted spirit that really only exists in the world of young love. As it progresses, the story evolves into a beautiful and yet powerful tale of a young woman’s entrance into adulthood and the responsibility that entails, firstly shown in her relationship with her lover and transitioning into her relationship with her young son, played by her real life son. This relationship alone creates a realistic dynamic in the film that is nearly impossible to recreate, especially with young children in cinema.

The story is not really a story at all but more a collection of occurrences, all in seemingly stationary and long shot takes and containing little to no dialogue, opting instead to showcase the beauty in the reality of the everyday. This value of experience rather than dialogue is a trend carried throughout the entire production. It clashes the bitter harshness against random bits of whimsy, from the lighthearted laugh of Milla, played by non-actress Severine Jonckeere. As one of the very few female directors portrayed at the festival, Valerie shows her piece as an homage to women, especially young women in France, focusing primarily on their self image and sense of self worth. By having three of the 4 main character not be actors at all, the story eerily echoes life in a way that isn’t possible using professionally trained actors. At times, it almost felt like glances into the personal lives of random strangers rather than a story designed and produced for mass consumption, and that is part of what made it so powerful and so special. 

Overall, Milla is not for the faint hearted. And by faint hearted, I merely mean impatient. It’s a story that takes its time to unfold in the same way that real life does, but if you’re willing to wait for it then a magical cinema experience awaits. From the repetition of a single song through the film’s length, portrayed in ways as everyday as headphones and as wild as the entire band passionately dancing to it inside of Milla’s mind as she works as a maid, to the lack of overly sensational music and cinematography styles, Milla is one woman’s homage to many other women through representation, and portrays an entertaining and invigorating story.