In her feature debut the actress-turned-director Ariane Labed dissects up close the intertwined bond between sisters and takes an intriguing path to explore generational trauma and guilt.
Sisterhood is definitely one of those tropes in films that seems overly used, yet is seriously underrepresented, at least in its purely authentic form. Most of the time in the media the relationship between siblings, especially sisters, is diminished to being one dimensional whether it’s portrayed as perfectly harmonious or the polar opposite – being chaotic with envy being the seed of it all. Rarely there are films that focus on the complexity of siblinghood, especially sisters. There are certainly exceptions such as the many adaptations of Little Women or any of the Jane Austen work, yet what is specific about them is that they’re usually period pieces.
September Says is very much set in the present day and manages to capture not only the layers of what it takes to be an older/younger sister, but it also does it with an exclusively female gaze approach. One of the scenes reveals September and her mum (Rakhee Thakrar) cleaning the bathroom wearing only underwear with hairy armpits and period pads sticking out. Another transports the viewers in the mind of the mother Sheela and her thoughts while a man is going down on her.
The movie, based on the book by Daisy Jones “Sisters”, opens with the two sisters September (Pascale Kann) and July (Mia Tharia), dressed up by their artistic mother as the twins from The Shining, forced to pose for a photoshoot and being stained with fake blood. A peculiar choice, considering the girls are 10 months apart, but it becomes clear later on that Labed has affinity for visual foreshadowing. Twins are frequently associated with unity, often portrayed on screen almost as carbon copies of each other with no clear distinctive identity. This is not the case with September and July since their power dynamic gives a clear distinction between the two, yet their quickly revealed co-dependency makes it hard to tell where one ends and the other starts. They seem to be inseparable both in school and outside and have their own peculiar way of communication, often non-verbally or with animal feral sounds. September – the older one – is highly protective of the naive and curious young July. Her overprotectiveness leaves an initial impression of July being “insufficient” or simply incapable of looking after herself. “When will you fix my bike?” asks July every morning before the girls head to school. And every day September says “Tonight!”. Then they get on September’s bike that is too small to hold them both with July at the back, clinging to her big sister. Soon enough it’s revealed September’s actions are not provoked out of concern nor affection for her sister, but is rather a tool to aggrandize herself by condescending “silly little July”. “September says…if I die, will you die too?”. July, who is naturally curious of her surroundings unlike September who is always defensive and detached, seems to be reluctant in obeying her sister’s usually harmless orders, but at the same time as with every younger sibling, she admires her and wants to please her. Their co-dependency doesn’t seem to be a natural occurrence, but an artificially maintained state by both parties, leading to that unhealthy symbiotic lifestyle. In its essence it’s similar to the relationship in “Phantom thread”. Their mother seems to be another factor since while physically present, she’s still somehow distant. In fact, September’s behaviour towards the young July seems to mirror the way their mum treats September herself. She’s often humiliated by the mum, even if unintentionally, which speaks of what’s known as the mother wound or the vicious cycle of female generational trauma.
The power dynamic between the sisters cracks once September is suspended from school and July is forced to face the world and her crush on her own. Labed’s tender directing amplifies that authentic teen female angst, awkwardness and sense of finality to every decision that are so common while coming of age. Her approach to filming seems to be grounded and tends to leave the actors to speak with their actions while also using the surroundings as performers themselves. Whether it’s a stormy beach or a small toilet cubicle, the locations play around with the viewer’s head hence making the scenes appeal quite intimate and, in certain moments, seed a buzzing sensation of eerie shift.
Once July is humiliated and the family moves to the holiday house in Ireland, the plot loses some ground. Labed successfully manages the tonal switch by building a sinister, almost feral atmosphere without leaning too much into it. It all escalates to a predictable psychologically surrealistic plot twist. Even if you see it coming, it is still equally moving, especially since it’s not the driving force of the film. It rather establishes the idea of how trauma-related guilt can lurk behind you long after the physical threat is gone and contributes to a bleak ambiguous ending.
In the end, September Says is a strong debut for Labed, showcasing her natural directorial instincts. The story might not be necessarily original in its concept, but it juggles its ideas in a riveting way and certainly demonstrates how a director, who is also a performer, can approach the matter from a grounded perspective.
