THE STORY – In a village of northern Spain, Jeanne tries to rebuild her life with Daniel, who knows nothing about her troubled past. One day, Mateo, Jeanne’s six-year-old godson, mysteriously disappears… In order to escape the police, who instantly suspect her, Jeanne flees to France and hides out in the community where she grew up, led by Marc. Refusing to believe that the woman he loves is guilty, Daniel will do everything in his power to find her before the police do.
THE CAST – Marion Cotillard, Luis Zahera, Denis Menochet & Leonardo Sbaraglia
THE TEAM – Guillaume Canet (Director/Writer) & Simon Jacquet (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 149 minutes
Director Guillaume Canet’s “Karma” is a story that, frighteningly, feels like it could be a true story (and, sadly, it probably is) despite being a big-screen work of fiction made for mass entertainment (an admittedly strange word to use to describe a film such as this). The existence of religious cults and the lengths they will go to maintain power over others is a theme deeply felt across society worldwide, in many forms, so even though this is a modern-set story, it could easily be set at any point in time. What starts as a tense missing-person thriller transforms into something far more disturbing as the 149-minute nail-biter continues its ever-evolving narrative. The title itself suggests there’s an inevitability Marion Cotillard’s Jeanne must face, a nightmarish force of consequences catching up with someone no matter how far they run. The further she attempts to push the past behind her, the more tightly it wraps itself around her, and us as an audience as a result.
Taking place at first in the hills of northern Spain, “Karma” introduces Jeanne (Cotillard) as a woman who appears, at least on the surface, to have built a lovely new life for herself. She’s madly in love with Daniel (Leonardo Sbaraglia), a Spanish carpenter who accepts her for who she is despite knowing very little about her past. Jeanne also shares an especially close relationship with her six-year-old godson Mateo, a child on the autism spectrum whom she sees almost daily. Their bond is affectionate, though Jeanne’s growing closeness with him has begun to draw curiosity from both Daniel and Mateo’s parents. Then one day, while taking him to soccer practice, Jeanne blacks out and realizes Mateo has mysteriously disappeared. Immediately, police suspicion falls on her. Her recollection of the day is fragmented and inconsistent, with the details she provided to the police earlier that day conflicting with those in her later statements. She suffers panic attacks, emotional breakdowns, and appears psychologically scarred in ways that suggest she may be hiding something. Whether she’s guilty of a crime or simply consumed by something much darker within herself, it pushes the police to view her as the prime suspect. As a result, Jeanne is forced to flee to France, where she returns to a religious commune where she was raised from birth, a place she escaped years earlier and swore never to revisit.
Canet structures the film almost like peeling away layers of human skin, with each new revelation exposing something even more stomach-turning underneath, growing increasingly painful with each piece. Jeanne’s return to the commune initially feels like a desperate attempt to hide from the police because of her supposed guilt in Mateo’s disappearance. Instead, it becomes clear she has willingly returned to the place where her trauma began many years before. But to what ends? You’ll have to watch to find out. Though be warned, the secrets the community is protecting are more sinister and uncomfortable than you could imagine.
Played with terrifying intensity by Denis Ménochet, Marc presents himself as a benevolent spiritual protector, but beneath the smiling facade lies a man who governs through fear, manipulation, and absolute control. He’s a stern leader who claims to prioritize his people’s well-being and insists that anyone is free to leave the gated grounds whenever they wish. Of course, as anyone familiar with cult dynamics already suspects, Marc is a domineering leader who governs through fear, psychological abuse, and absolute control, and Ménochet is such an intimidating presence as this character throughout.
The religion Marc has his followers preach is entirely fabricated, a patchwork belief system assembled from pieces Marc has deemed useful from other faiths to satisfy his own desires. Yet for the isolated families living inside this gated community, Marc has become something closer to God himself, providing some with a life they deem to be better than the horrors that await them in the outside world. Existing for decades and populated by only three interconnected families, the community has become a place for inbreeding, education, worship, and generations of physical and emotional violence. Attempts from outsiders and authorities to investigate have repeatedly failed. Marc and his followers know precisely how to present a smiling face to the outside world while ensuring no one ever exposes what’s truly happening inside. But that won’t stop Daniel, whose love for Jeanne keeps him chipping away at what Marc has built.
“Karma” is a gripping story from Canet. One of the elements that makes the film work as effectively as it does is that Canet continually raises the stakes. Some viewers may find the film’s willingness to pile on horrific traumas excessive, almost as though it’s doing so for shock value, given there isn’t much depth or deeper commentary beyond telling a riveting story. But it undeniably sustains the film’s tension.
Through all of this, Cotillard is spectacular. She delivers one of those performances built mostly on emotional exhaustion and suppressed pain, with Jeanne often feeling comatose until she has moments where her unbearable pain is unleashed in ways that make you incredibly empathetic towards her. Meanwhile, Ménochet is an extremely unnerving force as Marc, radiating menace, disgust, and spiritual evil in nearly every scene. There’s something especially disturbing in how calmly he moves through this world he’s created for himself, where he feels untouchable, with other characters constantly quivering in fear of him. He doesn’t need grand speeches or violent outbursts to establish his authority, though those are found here in abundance as well.
The film functions well enough as a psychological thriller that you can put on in front of almost anyone due to how well it plays (despite the grim subject matter). Unfortunately, because of this, there are many ideas surrounding trauma, religion, and control that occasionally feel more functional than thoroughly explored. There’s also the matter of the score, which relies heavily on the sound of an electric keyboard that becomes far too intrusive. Too often, moments that are already emotionally driven by the story and performances are pushed past the point of effectiveness and into melodramatic territory that feels manipulative rather than organic.
Still, for a broad audience willing to endure its more upsetting subject matter, “Karma” is a highly effective, thrilling story, backed by two strong performances from Cotillard and Ménochet. It’s a grim look at abuse, fanaticism, and survival that leaves behind an uneasy truth: escaping something and overcoming it are rarely the same thing, but we must face it all the same.
