All The Beauty and Bloodshed (2023)

Written for RAF News January 2023

Revered photographer and artist Nan Goldin reflects on the events that shaped her craft and character, all the while fighting one of the most powerful families in America, in this challenging and poignant documentary.

Goldin is funny and unflinching, able to revisit trauma by tackling it head-on. Goldin delves into the loss of her sister at a young age, the ravaging effect of Aids on the queer subculture she was a part of in 70s New York, the political indifference that they faced as a result, and their reaction: to band together and speak truth to power.

The group that Goldin fell into in this social scene was comprised of artists, activists and outcasts. People who seemed to possess a knack for self-expression and a sense of humour. It was here that her artistic sensibilities were nurtured, turning the camera on a life largely unseen, laid bare and beautiful. We see part of the slideshows that she would show to crowds, the ever-changing series ‘The Ballad of Sexual Dependency’. In the documentary, we learn of her experiences with men and women, of domestic abuse, and sex work. 

The scar that runs along the film however is Goldin’s own history with pain medication, namely OxyContin. Having battled addiction from this over-the-counter drug, and witnessed its destructive power, Goldin formed the group P.A.I.N. (Prescription Addiction Intervention Now) in 2017 with a group of likeminded people. Using her position in the art world to target the Sackler’s – the family and pharmaceutical empire often blamed for the opioid crisis in the United States – who have historically had their names in art galleries around the world. Here we see P.A.I.N as they infiltrate museums with elaborate signs and props, an artistic installation of sorts, that carries an important message, honouring the hundreds of thousands who have died in this epidemic.

Many of these reputable art houses would love to have the work of Goldin, but they get a little more than they bargained for.

Saint Omer (2023)

Written for RAF News January 2023

The line between the convict on the stand and the witness in the box is blurred in this contemplative, courtroom drama.

Rama (Kayije Kagame) a celebrated author, is in the process of writing a book when she is drawn in to the local trial of Laurence Coly (Guslagie Malanda): a women charged with the murder of her 15 month-old daughter. Like Cosy, Rama is French and of Senegalese decent, and seems ambivalent about her pregnancy. 

Based on a real trial, that director Alice Diop attended, we see the complexity of characters presented through their testimonies, but also in reaction to the testimonies of others. The film is very deliberate in its voyeurism. Long takes focussed on a single person allow you as the audience to become the jury. Avoiding theatricality, it is the nuance, the micro-actions and reactions, that make this film resonate so deeply.

Cosy (played phenomenally by Malanda), is introduced as someone who has committed the most heinous crime of infanticide. Having left her child on a beach as the tide was coming in, she confesses that she is responsible, and yet bafflingly pleads ‘not guilty’. This is just the beginning of this difficult and contradictory series of revelations. As we listen to Cosy speak in defence of herself, she is eloquent, a gifted student of philosophy she has a way with language, and so is able to express a certain messiness that is ultimately human.

This spell is sometimes broken by the pointed questions of attorneys, like for instance after the testimony of the murdered child’s father (Xavier Maly), a more senior man whose sincerity is deconstructed swiftly by some perfectly aimed accusations. 

As well as unpicking these personalities, the film throws into question larger ideas and assumptions. The whole legal system is seen as a product of its culture when the defendant claims that ‘sorcery’ was involved, creating a debate around the validity of African mysticism in a Western court of law. 

Saint Omer is slow paced and purposeful; it does not pander but simply gives you room to observe. It is simple and confident filmmaking that will appeal to active watchers who like have their views challenged.

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