In her mosque’s perfect world, Fatima (Nadia Melliti) is on the right path. A good family. A tight-knit group of protective and loyal friends. A boyfriend ready to propose. A devout faith in Islam. In many ways, this teen is doing better on the wife checklist than her older sisters (besides kitchen skills). And maybe she would have followed that path in Algeria or Egypt. But this is France. The opportunity to live her true self is here if she wants it.
Based on Fatima Daas’ autobiographical novel The Last One, writer-director Hafsia Herzi’s The Little Sister unfolds through five seasonal chapters. It begins during the spring of Fatima’s senior year of high school and continues through her first year of college in Paris before ending on her birthday the next year. We watch and listen as she compartmentalizes what she desires and what she knows the world desires from her. And we hope the line eventually blurs.
That’s easier said than done, however. Expectations demand certain things to be true in certain environments, and Fatima’s first chance to believe life as a lesbian is possible ultimately ends in such a way that she might never be able to trust in that dream again. She doesn’t know who she can tell. Will her seven “brothers” accept her? Their casual homophobia towards a gay classmate gives her pause. What about a new group of open-minded college friends?
It’s a lot to deal with in a very brief amount of time—especially with the Qur’an looming large above her head. Homosexuality is forbidden by her Imam. It’s a reality so ingrained in her family that Fatima’s sisters chide her for dressing too masculine to ever find a husband; they cannot even fathom a reality that she wouldn’t want a husband. Reconciling her daily prayers to a God that doesn’t accept her with the joy of still living her truth leads towards crisis.
We see some via an escalation of her asthma. Some from the emotional stone wall she erects with fake names when using dating apps to grow her confidence flirting with other women. It’s not until she discovers a love she never felt with her high school boyfriend that a calm sets in. Ji-Na (Park Ji-min) becomes a source of home away from home with whom hiding isn’t even a thought. And it’s in that moment of vulnerability that God’s wrath appears.
This is a very complex situation—Fatima has no real example for what she wants beyond her own experiences in trial and error. When she sees the women in her life following strict protocols for marriage and love, the devastation of losing herself to the grief of a failed relationship suggests a punishment. What’s her escape hatch? No strings attached promiscuity with other women? A return to doctrine at the detriment of her own happiness?
I really enjoyed the first two-thirds of Fatima’s journey through The Little Sister. Watching the anger of being closeted spill forth in her own acts of homophobic violence. Seeing the thaw and excitement of being free with Ji-Na. And the fun of college life with a sort of queer life coach in Mouna Soualem’s Cassandra. The emotions run the gamut, and Melliti imbues an authenticity to each one as her world spins between the dueling halves of her character’s identity.
The final third feels comparatively rushed as Fatima is forced to confront everything that’s happened over the past year. It’s a fast-paced series of crosscuts to different moments on that road towards clarity that takes her back to her ex-boyfriend, into sleep-paralysis nightmare, opposite an imposing Muslim authority, and back out at Parisian clubs. There are no easy answers when Herzi doesn’t provide any answers at all. Fatima is a woman in flux.
The film is therefore less a “coming of age” than it is an “evolving to be.” It’s about the indelible moments that push Fatima to embrace her desires while also reminding her that doing so doesn’t mean she must also erase her faith. Herzi isn’t showing how Fatima refuses alcohol every time she meets someone new to remind us that she’s sober. She does it to ensure we realize this teen hasn’t yet forsaken her religion—an exploration through addition, not subtraction.
That’s why the ending ultimately works. Sure, it’s a bit wonky moving through backslides and jumps, but that’s life: we all fall prey to regret and guilt before (hopefully) finding surer footing in the end. We experience anguish and sorrow to (hopefully) understand why those we love might cause us to feel that way and know when forgiveness is due. As such, we don’t need everything spelled out. We can read between the lines and feel the power of what’s not said.
The Little Sister opens in theaters on Friday, June 5.