52 Films by Women Vol 9. 17. Alpha (Director: Julia Ducournau)
French
writer-director Julia Ducournau has made two bold, kinetic horror films, Raw and Titane in which women behave very badly. She fuses ‘out there’ elements, like a
car impregnating a woman or bloodsucking at a medical school, with family
dynamics. In those first two movies, not only are no f-ks given, none are
offered. Alpha, her third feature, which returned empty
handed from the Cannes Film Festival, the site of her 2021 unexpected triumph
with Titane, is different. The genre elements –
specifically a disease that turns people into crumbling statues – don’t emanate
from the protagonist, thirteen-year-old Alpha (Mélissa Boros). Rather, they are
observed from without. Ducournau employs flashbacks in which Alpha’s father,
Amin (Tahar Rahim) struggles with his drug addiction, which twice leads to him
requiring CPR to restart his heart. This is not to ignore that Alpha herself is
transformed, but her change is of a more conventional kind, a leaky tattoo that
is an obvious metaphor for menstruation. The letter ‘A’ tattooed on Alpha’s arm
appears to stand for ‘Adolescence’ as she is sexualised by a boy, Adrien (Louai
El Amrousy) who plies her with alcohol and wants to have sex with her. The ‘A’
could also be a brand indicating ownership, such as those applied to horses,
and could indicate anxiety. During your teenage years, it is normal to feel
that you understand more but are less in control.
Ducournau has
described this film as her most personal to date, by which I take to mean that
she was sensitive to adult drug taking at a young age. Her first two films are
empowerment narratives, Alpha the reverse. The title character is more in
distress than in charge, though in a typical Ducournau scene, she does not want
a nurse (Emma Mackey) to inject her with a needle. She would rather do it
herself.
Pictured: A nurse (Emma Mackey) working on a hospital ward where the patients literally crumble in a scene from 'Alpha', a French language film about adolescence, absent fathers and a red wind, written and directed by Julia Ducournau. Still courtesy of Neon (US), Curzon (UK), Diaphana Distribution (France)
The film begins with
swirling red dust obscuring a sense of place, which is one way of interpreting
adolescence. We are told of a red wind (vent rouge) and also we recall
Michelangelo Antonioni’s The
Red Desert. Here, ‘red’ does
not refer to politics, though Ducournau shows us an immigrant family of
(perhaps) Algerian origin. Three generations of the same family live in France,
though not under the same roof; the brother is described as a racist. The
grandmother doesn’t speak English. When Amin and Alpha’s mother (Golshifteh
Farahani) don’t want Alpha to hear what they say, they shift into their native
tongue.
At the start of the
film, Alpha is at a party and rescued from having a tattoo applied to her left
arm of the letter ‘A’. The most famous letter A ever applied to a female
protagonist was featured in Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter,
referring to adultery. That doesn’t appear to be an issue in Alpha’s family.
Ducournau desaturates the colours in Alpha’s teenage years – enough said – but
the flashbacks to a time when her father lived them are shown in full colour. Not that these years are any happier. Amin’s
arm, which he shows to five-year-old Alpha (Ambrine Trigo Ouaked), is filled
with puncture marks. Alpha joins them together with a thick black marker pen,
tracing a zig-zag journey of what she doesn’t understand is oblivion. Amin
naturally has a needle in his hand. At the needle’s tip is a ladybird, which
takes flight, enthralling young Alpha. It is a visual representation of a
chemical high though Amin is defined by his bare chest and contorted torso,
frequently shown bending forward.
Alpha’s mother is
appalled by the tattoo and sends her to her room. Alpha tries to escape while
the wind is battering the blue tarpaulin outside their apartment building – the
family live several stories up. Alpha tries to make her way to the fire escape
but is terrified. She calls to her mother for help.
Her adolescence
coincides with the return of Amin, though there is some doubt as to whether
this actually happens. In another scene, Alpha and her mother step over a
strung-out male junkie on the stairs. In the desaturated reality, Amin is taken
inside. Alpha’s mother tends to him, though present and past blur. This leads
to a scene at Amin’s bedside in full colour (a flashback) in which we see first
young Alpha, then teenage Alpha, both observing Amin in the throes of need.
Pictured: He scores, he shoots. Drug addict Amin (Tahar Rahim) in a scene from the French language epidemic film, 'Alpha', written and directed by Julia Ducournau. Still courtesy of Neon (US), Curzon (UK), Diaphana Distribution (France)
Alpha’s return to
school with a tattoo covered with a white square plaster is not a happy one. During
an English literature lesson it leaks. During a game of volleyball, the ball is
covered in blood and is taken out of service. Alpha’s proficiency at volleyball
is questionable. She is substituted out of the game and leaves the court.
Adrian follows her. He pressures her for sex, but Alpha resists. The blood
draws her to him.
Other schoolgirls
are disgusted by Alpha’s bleeding and, we infer, a fear of infection – her
family’s migrant origins may also inform their concerns. This builds to a scene
at a swimming class where Alpha is pulled underwater. We have no doubt that her
life is in danger. Alpha frees herself and swims to safely but slams against
the swimming pool wall, knocking herself out. This visceral set piece illustrates
Ducournau’s flair for action, otherwise absent from the rest of the film, and
is a highlight.
But if we see Amin
injecting himself once, we see it several times. In one scene, he and the
teenage Alpha flee the apartment down the fire escape, Alpha overcoming her
fear, and head to a club. There, Alpha helps herself to the empties. It is a
pretext for Amin to inject himself. We see (in full colour) the young Alpha,
abandoned by her father, discover him in the middle of the road at night,
trying to find a vein.
Alpha’s mother works
at a hospital on a ward where bedridden patients are in the process of
fossilisation, their skin becoming hard and shiny, in some instances resembling
an alabaster bust. This may be linked to drug addiction. In one scene, a mass
of infected people gathers outside the hospital, blocked by an imposing
security guard. Alpha’s mother talks him into letting them through. In an early
scene, we see patients in various degrees of infection, one, whose rib cage is
visible, ceases to display vital signs, his monitor shrieking to indicate
flatline. Alpha’s mother switches it off.
In another scene,
Alpha’s mother tends to Amin’s partly calcified body but then cause part of his
back to crumble away. We see three fountains of red-brown blood leak out of it.
Amin is unaware. Alpha’s mother’s efforts to stem the flow cause Amin pain,
which is his dominant mode.
Amin’s attempts at
detoxification don’t go well either. It appears that Amin and Alpha’s mother
got together because she is handy with a needle. Certainly at her Alpha’s
grandmother’s apartment, Alpha’s mother hides him away. Five-year-old Alpha
opens the door and is quickly ordered to close it.
The film builds to
Adrian’s attempt to have sex with Alpha. He holds a condom in a golden wrapper
in his hands. As one climbs on top of the other, his hand, still with the
wrapper in it, remains outstretched. She eventually stops him. Ducournau
handles this scene sensitively with Alpha shown with only some of her clothing
removed. It remains uncomfortable to watch, though more because of what we
bring to the film. Significantly, at no point does Alpha show any curiosity
about sex or Adrian’s body. She is responding to his need.
The film ends with a
car journey, a recurrent trope in Ducournau’s films, the camera placed behind
the driver’s seat, showing us the journey in an extended take. The red wind covers
the cityscape with dust. Alpha’s mother accompanies Amin out of the car,
leaving teenage Alpha behind. She steps into the dust-scape and watches her
father crumble away under her mother’s arm. Alpha’s face fills the screen in an
atypical close-up as the film abruptly cuts to the title card and end credits.
Ducournau’s endings
have previously been bold and dramatic. By her standard, Alpha is less impactful. The film is about the impermanence of male figures;
Alpha’s English literature teacher looks unwell in his second scene. Alpha’s
mother, though a medical professional, isn’t an inspiration to her. We are left
with Alpha’s isolation and a narrative with allusions to AIDS that doesn’t
quite gel.
Reviewed at Palace Cinema, Brussels, Thursday 21 August 2025, 19:00 screening with Julia Ducournau in attendance
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