‘The Little Sister’ Review: Hafsia Herzi Directs a Modest but Empathetic Coming-Out Tale

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This film subtly explores “The Little Sister” more than it delves into a typical pattern of queer cinema inherited from previous generations. Instead of presenting the anticipated turmoil, we find ourselves anticipating something dreadful throughout Hafsia Herzi’s third movie. Traditional coming-out narratives often carry assumptions of trauma or hardship, and here the stakes are high: Our protagonist Fatima is a devout Muslim girl from an Algerian immigrant family in Paris, worried that her burgeoning lesbian identity might lead to her being rejected by her family and faith. However, the film takes an unexpected route, focusing more on self-acceptance as the primary narrative challenge rather than the anticipated conflicts.

As a cinephile with a soft spot for heartfelt narratives, I found “The Little Sister” to be a poignant exploration primarily carried by the captivating debut performance of Nadia Melliti, a newcomer whose subtle portrayal of Fatima’s inner turmoil and hesitance shone through her reserved character. At times, the film seemed to be confined by its lead actress’ emotional depth, but I could easily envision Herzi playing this role earlier in her career. Much like her previous directorial endeavor, “Good Mother” from 2021, Herzi remains behind the scenes, using her keen understanding and empathy to guide her cast with a gentle hand. The film’s selection for the Cannes competition may have added pressure, but it’s a story that resonates deeply and is widely accessible within the art-house genre. Programmers and distributors specializing in LGBT themes are bound to take notice of this moving yet understated production.

In the first chapter of the movie, set across different seasons, we meet Fatima, a smart high school senior who’s comfortable with her outspoken group of friends but finds herself at odds with her traditional family at home, including her conservative parents and strict older sisters. However, outside these circles, she appears unsure of herself, which is later explained when a classmate casually labels her as a lesbian. This revelation, though seemingly casual, causes an unexpected and intense reaction in Fatima, indicating the fear that secretive individuals experience when their hidden identity is exposed. This fear is also reflected in her vague, one-worded responses to her longtime boyfriend, who’s eager to marry and start a family right away, despite her nonchalance.

I personally find myself at odds with the proposed plan, not just because of my sexual orientation. I’m eager to embrace a more contemporary lifestyle and have enrolled in college to delve into philosophy. As part of this transformation, I’m distancing myself from my old school friends to craft my own adult identity. This journey also includes tentative forays into my sexuality, which often involve discreet meetings arranged through apps, under an assumed name, with women who are more experienced and confident in their sexuality than I am. One particularly memorable encounter was with the sensual Ingrid, brilliantly portrayed by Sophie Garagnon. She patiently guided me through the basics of lesbian intimacy, emphasizing that “nothing in sex is dirty.” This scene underscores her understanding and acceptance of my naivety.

However, it’s not until Fatima crosses paths with Korean nurse Ji-Na (Ji-Min Park, famously known from “Return to Seoul”) that she finds the courage to embrace intimacy with another woman, being true to herself instead of her detached, cap-wearing persona. She even conceals her real cultural identity during these encounters, pretending to be Egyptian rather than Algerian, another mask to hide behind. In no time, they become deeply involved and passionate. Fatima, though still keeping her sexuality a secret from her family, finds the confidence to attend a Pride parade with her first girlfriend. But when Ji-Na’s mental health deteriorates and they part ways, Fatima is left to navigate her new life on her own.

Alongside her personal enlightenment, Fatima is persistently exploring her religious beliefs. Although Fatima maintains her faith, she doesn’t entirely feel reassured by the guidance from a local imam, Abdelali Mamoun, who, with a mix of kindness and misogyny, tells her that homosexuality is less severe a sin in women compared to men. The screenplay, based on an autobiographical novel by Fatima Daas, skillfully captures such complexities, particularly in a poignant scene filled with unspoken tensions and empathy, where Fatima’s loving mother expresses her unconditional support for her daughter.

If we’re talking about “The Little Sister,” it seems to lack some depth when it comes to domestic settings and daily life, which could have been enriched with more detail. Although the title suggests a strong emphasis on family relationships, these aspects are only briefly touched upon. Including more scenes that depict everyday routines beyond our heroine’s personal struggles would add a layer of authenticity. Director Alain Guiraudie and cinematographer Jérémie Attard show great care in portraying the protagonist, often focusing on her face through close-ups. However, this devotion to our main character might make the external aspects of her life and surroundings seem less defined.

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2025-05-16 17:46