“Filled with deeply insightful commentary by one of the more original directorial voices in contemporary cinema”

Despite being one of the only truly universal experiences, we still often struggle to speak openly about death. Whether it’s out of fear or concerns that any discussion around the one true inevitability will dampen the mood, it’s usually avoided as much as possible. However, there are some incredible attempts to make sense of the topic and its deeper meaning, which can lead to some fascinating conversations that blend philosophy and biology. An example of a film that speaks candidly about death and the circumstances that surround it comes in the form of Nobody’s Violence, the most recent work by Denis Côté, who ventures into extremely dark territory in an effort to find some understanding about the process of dying from the perspective of not only those whose lives are ending, but also those who surround them. The film follows Mira, an enigmatic young woman who leads a peculiar existence, as she is in a line of work that is most appropriately described as “death on demand”. Her main responsibility is to visit people who have elected to end their lives (some of which are terminally ill, others suffering from other conditions – physical or mental – that makes daily life unbearable for them), covertly giving them a medication that they self-administer, after carefully reflecting on whether or not this is the path that they wish to choose. However, as she meets more people, she makes the mistake of getting to know some of them beyond what was required, leading her to question whether what she is doing is truly an act of mercy. It’s a difficult film, but one that is filled with deeply insightful commentary by one of the more original directorial voices in contemporary cinema, with Côté proving once again to be an inimitable observer of the human condition and an arbiter of all the ephemera that come with being alive.

The timeliness of Nobody’s Violence is remarkable, since we are at a crucial moment in time as the debate surrounding assisted suicide continues to grow and becomes a more prominent part of the cultural conversation. It’s a contentious topic that continues to draw divisive opinions, especially as more people seek out opportunities to end their lives painlessly and without any potential complications. Whether or not the director was intent on commenting directly on the subject – especially since the Medical Assistance in Dying (MAID) system in his native Canada has proven to be the topic of considerable debate based on how many people view this as a feasible means to end their suffering – is beyond the point, since there are ideas embedded in this story that go beyond the simple confines of social commentary. Instead, what fascinates Côté is the idea of death itself. So much focus on the subject of assisted suicide revolves around the people ending their lives, and very rarely looks at what it takes for those who aid in administering the medication to enter into this line of work. Rather than approaching it from a conventional perspective, the film applies an abundance of allegory, situating us amongst a group of characters who seem to exist on the margins of reality. By no means is Nobody’s Violence an accurate account of assisted suicide – in fact, it is the complete opposite, functioning as a more dreamlike, offbeat psychological drama about a character who is best-described as an angel of death, someone who enters into the lives of her clients for a brief moment, helping them on their journey from life to death before disappearing without a trace – no administrative paperwork, no consequences, and simply the knowledge that she’s done a favour to those who needed it the most. It’s a complex concept, but one that is very carefully pieced together to create something extremely effective.

As is quite common with the director’s work, Nobody’s Violence is designed to be a character-based story, and emerges as the result of a close collaboration between the director and his cast, with Larissa Corriveau in particular being exceptionally impressive as the central protagonist, reuniting with the director for the fourth time. Mira is a complex woman, someone who drifts through life in a quiet daze, moving between clients as she does her duty in helping them end their personal challenges. She is the last person a lot of them see in their waking life, which is an enormous burden in so many ways, and which gradually begins to cause her sanity to erode as she is forced to reckon with the psychological consequences of peddling in death. It’s an incredibly moving performance that feels entirely aligned with the film’s premise, which is built around exploring the inner psychological architecture of an individual who initially believes what she is doing is merciful, but begins to realise that she is not mentally strong enough to deal with the aftermath of knowing that she is often all that stands between an individual suffering and being liberated. A similar principle applies to many of the supporting characters, most of whom appear only in a single scene – the entire first act is centred around Mira travelling between clients, meeting with them in a range of locations (depending on their preference) and helping them in the transition, before a longer set piece in the middle of the film in which additional background into her line of work is provided through interactions with people who exist in the same orbit. The result is a fascinating mosaic of eccentricities, with many of the supporting players being intentionally boisterous and over-the-top as a means to contrast the more quiet, reserved nature of Mira, who is portrayed as an almost mystical being, floating between places and quickly departing once she has achieved what was required.

It is evident through his work that Côté is not someone who finds the idea of following conventions particularly appealing, since most of his films centre around subject matter that is already inherently challenging, and which tends to be further complicated by his distinct directorial approach. He is one of the rare filmmakers who can include humour in a film without it adding much levity, and in many cases even further highlighting the profound bleakness situated right at the heart of the story. Nobody’s Violence is a fascinating example of this idea in practice, with the harrowing nature of the story being punctuated by occasional moments of pitch-black humour that do not lighten the mood, but rather have the opposite effect: they plunge the viewer into a nightmarish version of reality defined by a heightened sense of chaos and absurdity. Everything is kept very stoic and stone-faced, and at no point does Côté seem to be interested in trying to follow traditions, instead embracing the kind of nihilistic despair that has often become a part of his films. It informs how he writes these characters as not just mascots for his existential quandaries, but rather as fully-formed individuals who are not always easy to understand in terms of background or intention, but who nonetheless prove to be exceptionally compelling in their authenticity. As a film that exists at the intersection between a distressing psychological thriller and a dark social satire, Nobody’s Violence sets out to unearth the unspoken rules that bind society together, as well as highlight the director’s fascination with the deconstruction of these same traditions. It targets a very specific kind of moral conundrum that is impossible to answer, and relies on the audience having to decide how far they want to empathise with Mira or her patients, since it is not a film that provides easy solutions to any of its complex quandaries.

As anyone who has engaged with Côté’s work in the past will undoubtedly know, what you see is what you get with him, and Nobody’s Violence is by no means an exception. His work is thorny, challenging and unconventional, and this film represents perhaps his most bleak and harrowing portrayal of humanity yet, particularly since it orbits directly around the theme of death and societal decay. These interweave to create a haunting leap into the mind of a complex young woman simply trying to make sense of a world in which all logic has apparently been entirely extinguished. It is most certainly the very definition of an acquired taste, as is often the case with Côté’s films, which occupy a very strange place in the culture, being fascinating in how they find ways to excavate emotions that many of us may not have even imagined were possible to experience from a film, while also being extraordinarily difficult to process, mainly in the sheer scope of the philosophy guiding the film. It’s some of the director’s most captivating work, especially when we peer beyond the austerity of the story and focus on underlying themes that may not be particularly hopeful, but have a cautious optimism. Ultimately, Nobody’s Violence is a film that may tell a story of a woman who deals in death, but surprisingly becomes a moving examination of life as something volatile and precious. It makes no effort to distract from the harsh inevitability that everyone will meet their end in some way – but through a carefully crafted exploration of a group of people who choose to take control of their lives by ironically making the decision to die, it makes some incredibly poetic assertions on the nature of existence. A rewarding, insightful experience that puts the viewer through the emotional wringer and provokes enough thought and conversation to be considered a near-essential entry into an ever-growing canon of exceptionally fascinating philosophical films that refuse to even attempt to answer certain impossible questions, preferring to defer to the astonishing ambiguity of life and death, and everything in between.