‘Her Will Be Done’ Review: Superstition Meets Smalltown Bigotry in a Grimily Atmospheric Psychodrama

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For quite some time, the French countryside has been portrayed as a picturesque idyll in popular films, filled with haystacks, wildflowers, and enchanting goatherds. However, in more recent years, directors like Bruno Dumont and Alain Guiraudie have shifted this perception, presenting it instead as a setting for strange tales of rural animosity and small-town deviance. “Her Will Be Done,” directed by Julia Kowalski, fits into this emerging genre, especially since it features actors who have worked with Guiraudie in films such as “Misericordia” and “Standing Vertical.” Interestingly, these same actors can also be found in “Wild Foxes,” which is screening at Directors’ Fortnight. Although the film doesn’t quite live up to its potential, Kowalski’s sophomore work still makes a strong contribution to this subgenre, evolving into an engaging blend of the spiritual and the earthy. Here, elements of folk horror intertwine with provincial bigotry, while mysticism seeps through the dirt.

The initial scenes establish a discordant tone, as Daniel Kowalski’s sparse, tense music plays over a brief prologue of fire, a struggling figure, and whispers about Satan. This swiftly transitions to a much more ordinary scene of an empty street with closed, dim houses under a gloomy sky, hinting at the dreary French town. Cinematographer Simon Beaufils (“Anatomy of a Fall”) captures this location through grime-covered lenses. Living nearby is Henryck (Wojciech Skibinski), a Polish farmer, who resides on a smallholding with his children Tomek (Przemyslaw Przestrzeiski), Bogdan (Kuba Dyniewicz), and daughter Nawojka (Maria Wróbel), often referred to as Naw. Naw is a timid, quiet girl who endures constant bullying from her burly, uncouth brothers and faces suspicion from her father, who shows her affection but also fears she carries the “evil” passed down from her deceased mother. It seems that the price of fitting into this small, hostile community has been significant, as Henryck cannot afford any additional strain on their outsider status.

I can’t help but share my concerns about Naw, a creature that’s generally peaceful and domesticated in nature, yet prone to occasional, jarring fits. These episodes are portrayed with raw intensity by Wróbel, making me worry even more. To alleviate these fits, she constantly prays.

However, the arrival of Sandra (Roxane Mesquida), a young woman with a scowl, a blonde mane, and a leg brace, adds an intriguing twist to Naw’s life. Her arrival broadens Naw’s horizons, leaving her bewildered as she grapples with whether she wants to befriend Sandra, be with her, or merely become like her.

In the meantime, Henryck’s cows are falling ill, leaving behind slimy mucus in their waste. Franck (Durand), our local vet and a potential love interest for Naw, is puzzled by this disease and unable to diagnose it.

In a night that followed the boisterous wedding festivities for Tomek, the atmosphere, never particularly jovial and void of even the subtlest sarcastic humor, takes a dark turn. Sandra and Naw find themselves forced into the woods by Franck and his inebriated companion (Thiéry). What ensues is a scene reminiscent of a ’70s exploitation film, ending on a deeply disturbing note as Sandra, attempting to brush off the incident by saying “I’m used to it,” to Naw. From this point onward, the story takes a turn for the enigmatic as writer-director Kowalski propels his downtrodden protagonist further into mystical landscapes. Isabelle Manquillet’s editing style adds to the unease with its jarring yet cryptic cuts, allowing Naw’s intense, feverish hallucinations and memories of her mother’s destiny to seep deeper into her deteriorating reality.

The third act develops an eerie, unsettling ambiance, yet it falls short on a storytelling and character development level, leaving Kowalski’s conclusion vague and lacking impact. This wretched place, filled with harsh words, dark thoughts, and cruel actions, portrayed through narrowed eyes and tight-lipped expressions, hides deep-seated prejudices and ingrained misogyny. It seems to call for a destructive upheaval, not the smoldering embers that are presented here. However, it may be her disappointing yet undeniable message: there is no changing minds so small, altering behaviors so cruel, or lifting spirits so mean. In the face of oppression so all-encompassing, the options are submission and complicity for many, or escape for the fortunate few.

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2025-05-30 19:47