Other People's Children

Although birth rates are decreasing across most of the world, France has long been an outlier, its strong traditional ideas about la difference and women’s roles coupled with excellent maternity care and childcare provision. In 2022, however, an article in Elle magazine shocked the nation by revealing that a large proportion of young women never wish to become mothers. It prompted a national conversation about changing values and the way women fit into society. Rebecca Zlotowski’s timely film explores the experiences of one woman who goes against the grain as much by accident as design.

For Rachel (Virginie Efira), childlessness is neither a political statement nor a tragedy, simply a consequence of the way life has panned out. It’s a life she’s happy with, not short on fulfilment. Approaching 40, she’s gently reminded by a doctor that if she does want to give pregnancy a go, she should do so soon, but even then it’s not all or nothing – she’ll give it a try and find contentment either way. Boyfriend Ali (Roschdy Zem) seems amenable to this. His worry has been that she has no interest in children, so he has hesitated to invite her to spend time with his four-year-old daughter from a previous relationship, Leïla (Callie Ferreira-Goncalves). it’s a peculiar assumption people make about the childless. Rachel is happy to get to know Leïla, but the bond which forms between the two of them takes her into unknown and difficult territory.

A small story about ordinary life and the kind of situation people navigate every day with little to guide them, Other People’s Children is as richly drawn as it is delicately handled. Rachel’s feelings about her own relationship to childbearing are complicated by her sister Louana’s (Yamée Couture) unplanned pregnancy, and it becomes clear that she has always had something of a maternal role in looking after Louana. In her work as a teacher she goes out of her way to help struggling young people, notably including Dylan (Victor Lefebvre), who has a terrible attendance record and risks exclusion. She gets on well with Ali’s former partner, Alice, gently defending her against Ali’s complaints, and Alice easily trusts her with Leïla. The child herself is resentful at first, disliking change as many small children do and complaining when Alice isn’t around, but Rachel’s patience and kindness soon win her over. Before long, they are closer than Rachel is with Ali.

Therein lies the rub. As the romantic relationship begins to falter, Rachel becomes increasingly aware of the precariousness of her situation. Ali, for his part, is a mild-mannered, sympathetic person, but doesn’t seem to realise the weight or consequence of the relationship between Rachel and Leïla, despite having facilitated it. Acutely aware of the need to take responsibility for her own emotions rather than let them affect the child, Rachel quietly endures the awful threat of its loss in situations where she feels unable to speak or let the pain show on her face. There is barely any confrontation, or even discussion, in the course of the film, and yet the camera gives us an intimate understanding or her emotional journey.

Where she was full of force in last year’s Benedetta, here Efira is all about restraint, using her tremendous emotional strength to portray a woman who must bear her sorrows internally and find a way to take something positive from the experience. Ferreira-Goncalves is a particularly charismatic child and wonderfully natural; there is so much chemistry between the two that one hopes their separation after the shoot did not result in similar suffering. Zlotowski astutely captures small moments between them which cannot have been rehearsed, whilst elsewhere we see deftly constructed scenes which illustrate the cumulative impact of rejection and exclusion even where it has not been intended. This is never given undue emphasis – its occurrence in passing is partly what makes it so potent – and there are no big emotional breakdowns, just fleeting expressions which have a cumulative effect on the viewer.

Receiving well-deserved acclaim in Venice and going on to screen at the Glasgow Film Festival, Other People’s Children explores its subject with a rare maturity and grace. Nothing here is easily characterised or contained. The cinematography is beautiful but the story it captures has the messiness of real life. The tides of life sweep everyone along with barely time to think, yet somehow in the space between Rachel and Leïla there exists a brief, magical stillness.