PETITE MAMAN

"You didn't invent my sadness." - Marion

Certain emotional suffering is passed down from mothers to the children they bear. A desire to see the other happy, asking the unavoidable question: which of the two is the cause of the other’s sorrow? Like a hug from an old friend or the sound of a summer rain storm, some of these transferable emotions have a tender warmth, a familiar sadness. Echoed in every frame, Celine Sciamma’s ‘Petite Maman’ explores the unrequited essence of how a mother’s struggles become her children’s struggles. Simple, effortless, and carefully executed, Sciamma creates a story that softly tells us “it is not your fault.”

‘Petite Maman’ centers around eight year old Nelly. Following the death of her grandmother, Nelly, along with her parents, travel to her mother’s childhood home to pack up her grandmother’s remaining possessions. Throughout her days there Nelly explores the house and the forest surrounding it, helping her better understand who her mother was when she was her age. One day, while searching for the fort her mother built when she was a kid, Nelly meets Marion, a fellow eight year old who lives in the house on the other side of the woods. Their bond and emotionally mature conversations help Nelly process her grandmother’s death, and foster a communicative gap that transcends time and generation.

Sometimes less is more, and ‘Petite Maman’ proves just that. Minimalistic in every aspect, the film’s heartbeat resonates quietly in the moments devoid of dialogue and score. Plain to some, contemplative to others, the decision to exclude an exuberant amount of sound was paramount in the film’s effectiveness. As in life, moments of silence and introspection are crucial in times of growth and hardship. Listening to the rustle of the trees, learning to enjoy being alone, having moments of quiet with someone you are comfortable with, are moments in time to appreciate, process, and even mourn.

Because at its core, this is a film about grief: about someone you love dying, about a past version of yourself, about a world you once knew. Sciamma is brilliant in her narrative delivery. Starting off slow, the film’s first half is modest in its exposition. Moment by moment, a subconscious groundwork is being laid as Nelly explores the unknown life her mother lived growing up. She never succumbs to boredom, always inquisitively asking questions as she embraces her new found familial connection. The pacing is purposeful, and every nuanced intricacy materializes when Nelly meets her fidus Achates Marion.

The fantastical beauty in this close friendship doesn’t lie in who Marion is, it lies in how these two choose to embrace it. Instead of cowering in fear and apprehension, they lean into it, trust each other, displaying an incomprehensible level of maturity and faith. As this bond grows, as their time together shapes their understanding of resilience, motherhood and loss, a transcendent moment erupts from the foundation Sciamma implanted since the first frame.

While Nelly and Marion run through the woods hand in hand, with the only song in the entire film playing, everything finally clicks into place; how powerful it is to find closure, how comforting it can be to express your fears, how overwhelming it is looking into the eyes of your equal and truly, finally, feeling understood. The jarring impact of this scene is so spontaneous and sentimental it will literally take your breath away. This freeing emotional release is exactly what Sciamma intended; to prove that one day, when you least expect it, all that turmoil and silent suffering will transform you into a stronger, more self-assured version of yourself.

What ‘Petite Maman’ does in seventy-two minutes most directors struggle to accomplish in three hours. Nostalgic and heartfelt, this tale of a girl who loves her mother, who wishes she could have given her grandmother a proper goodbye, becomes the group therapy session we didn't know we needed. Preserve your curiosity, squeeze your mom a little tighter, and learn to forgive yourself, because life doesn’t have to be linear, there is always time to learn from, or let go of the past.