Berlinale 2025 review: We Believe You (Charlotte Devillers & Arnaud Dufeys)

“Myriem Akheddiou stands out as Alice, to whom she gives an incredible amount of dignity and strength, while at the same time making us feel how she is quivering with rage and pain underneath.”

Two early elements may be seen as clear hints as to where We Believe You, the first feature-length film of Charlotte Devillers and Arnaud Dufeys, is ultimately heading. First there is its title, which replicates the slogan used in French-speaking countries to express support towards victims of rape and sexual assault. Second, there is also the fact that the opening sequences put us side by side with Alice, as she makes her way to the courthouse where she has to attend a child custody hearing, while her ex-husband (who remains unnamed) appears later with little to no introduction. By the end of the film, it appears those hints were more than welcome, as they helped us make it through the brutality of the ordeal we had to endure alongside Alice and her children Lila and Etienne. For distressing reasons, disclosed later in the story, none of them wants any contact whatsoever with the father, something they managed to avoid for the past two years. But today they have to be in the same room with him, since he filed a request to see his kids, which has to be settled by a family court judge after hearing all sides.

As Alice, Lila and Etienne are consequently forced to relive their trauma, the suffering it reawakens in them is so severe that, to an outside point of view, it makes them appear not as victims but as a possible threat to others. This is what the film shows in its first scenes, set before Alice gets a chance to speak and express her position. Etienne gets physical when his mother tries to have him board the tramway to go to the courthouse; once there, a security check reveals he carries a pocket knife on him. Later, in the waiting room, it is Alice’s turn to look hostile and frantic when she cannot control her temper twice – faced with the sudden appearance of her ex-husband, and when no one is able to tell her where her kids have been escorted to after giving their testimony to the judge. For each of these incidents, “we believe you” must remain firmly established in the mind of the audience, serving as a mantra to avoid misreading the situation and jumping to preconceived notions. Alice is not hysterical, nor are her children juvenile offenders. They are too deeply wounded, and have not been given enough attention or support.

The core of We Believe You is one long scene, in which the statements of each of the parents and their lawyers (with Alice the last to speak, meaning she once again has to bear the torment of hearing distorted truths and sexist accusations in silence) follow each other without a break, as if in real time. This does not prevent the film from being skillfully edited, to have us feel the full tension of the moment, mostly through the use of close-up shots, which turn out to be a demonstration of the actors’ skills and how they give their all and rise to the occasion. Myriem Akheddiou (a regular supporting actress in the Dardenne brothers’ films; also seen in Titane) stands out as Alice, to whom she gives an incredible amount of dignity and strength, while at the same time making us feel how she is quivering with rage and pain underneath. Around her, everyone else is also remarkable – Natali Broods as the judge, Ulysse Goffin and Adèle Pinckaers as the teens, Laurent Capelluto as the abusive yet ordinary looking father who is convinced he is in the right. Alice’s testimony in front of the judge becomes an overwhelming monologue, as Devillers and Dufeys turn the character into a spokeswoman enunciating the hard truths, and specific details, about how incest and sexual assault scar their victims physically and mentally. It is excruciating to listen to, yet crucial. These words need to be said and heard precisely because they are so harsh. Fortunately, following this extreme moment, the consideration and empathy of the directors towards Alice, Lila and Etienne extends to the end of the film. Finally out of the courthouse in the last scene, they, and the audience with them, are given some solace in the form of three words, moving from the outside (its title) to the inside (a line of dialogue) of the film: “we believe you“. And after what we have been through at their sides, we understand how much it must mean to them to be told that.

Image copyright: Makintosh Films