Cannes Review: Alpha Represents a Lacking Misstep for Julia Ducournau

      Julia Ducournau has undergone a significant transformation since Titane, the gritty and strange thriller that won the Palme d’Or at Cannes in 2021, judged by Spike Lee's jury. There is a clear sense that all attention is now on her latest film, Alpha, in a way that wasn't the case following the release of Titane after Raw. Her initial and most horrifying film, far too extreme for a broad audience, was a cannibal tale about a teenager entering veterinary school. In contrast, Alpha does not feature any cannibalism or disturbing car scenarios. However, nearly every character's life is falling apart.

      In a broader context, this coming-of-age narrative delves into the life of 13-year-old Alpha (Mélissa Boros), her mother who is a doctor (Golshifteh Farahani), the real-life horrors of the AIDS epidemic during the 1980s, and the chaos that ensues after Alpha uses a potentially contaminated needle for a tattoo at a house party. The alternate reality Ducournau has crafted is just realistic enough to feel familiar yet fantastical enough to retain a cinematic quality. However, by virtually placing this story in the midst of that epidemic—attempting to evoke the feelings of injustice and lack of resources that characterized it—Ducournau presents something too bleak and grim to truly grasp.

      We witness Alpha suffer a series of mysterious injuries, often in the company of friends, raising the lingering concern about whether her body has been infected from the needle. This heavy uncertainty is difficult for her mother to accept, especially given the losses this illness has already inflicted on her as a physician. Such experiences have made her an exceedingly protective mother; it's noteworthy that The Adventures of Baron Munchausen makes an appearance in the film.

      Many of the notable elements in Alpha––including the intermittent presence of Alpha’s drug-addict uncle Amin (Tahar Rahim delivering a visceral performance reminiscent of Denis Lavant), a feeling of time travel through the 1980s and its surrounding decades, and the vibrant red silt casting fiery orange dust storms over the city––are too laden with spoilers to dissect. The film also feels somewhat half-formed or overanalyzed, making it difficult to engage with confidently.

      Jim Williams’ score is striking in its disconnection from the film's flow––its lowest points can undermine whole scenes––similar to how an obsolete Tame Impala track that appears later in the film feels out of place. Ruben Impens’ cinematography does not enhance the narrative, presenting it with minimal depth. This is a rare instance where CGI creates mildly memorable drama; the effects look so lavish that one can't help but question whether too much of the budget went toward showcasing these visuals.

      The CGI-enhanced footage of the red storms in the third act is stunning, as is an opening scene where the title card emerges from cracked dry earth, with the camera, reminiscent of Uncut Gems, navigating through those cracks to surface from a patient's wound. The marbled, AIDS-infected figures in Alpha are seamless fusions of human flesh and swirled Italian stone––the kind they seek in The Brutalist.

      The infected and dying individuals range from nearly solid rock to just beginning to harden, with the variations in corporeal cracks and avalanches presenting new, beautiful imagery relating to body horror––the kind that might be displayed in a museum. But conceptualizing them as both suffering and too mesmerizing to turn away from is the only true artistic stroke Ducournau brings to the project.

      Color tells Alpha's story more than any dialogue or character growth. While such an attribute usually elevates a film, Ducournau overestimates the audience's capacity for disbelief and tolerance for monotony. For instance, the ice-blue skin tones appear to be amateurish color work––potentially a result of poor lighting––until one realizes their underlying intention. At that point, the skin tones begin to reveal aspects of the unfolding narrative.

      Film relies heavily on emotions, and at that juncture, it becomes irrelevant how intricate or thematically cohesive the color grading is. If the story it accompanies lacks dynamic energy––with the grading itself being too muted and dark to captivate without context––any intended emotions will not resonate. Alpha suffers from flat visuals and uninspired color palettes, a creatively restrictive choice that should have raised alarm bells for Ducournau and her team.

      Coming one film too late to avoid a sophomore slump, Alpha squanders its own potential, transforming what could have been a brilliant collection of ideas into something so muddied that it’s challenging to discern their meanings. Nonetheless, the sensation of trudging through the film persists, and two hours is indeed a lengthy journey. Ducournau clearly has faith in her vision; in that regard, Alpha is an ambitious endeavor.

      Yet, a director's most challenging task is to articulate their intricate thoughts into a fulfilling artistic form––to convey their imagination to everyone involved in the film so that