The Unknown Girl is the latest from Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne, and it’s unsurprisingly a deft, meticulous moral drama that has plenty on its mind while telling a taut, stripped-down story. But that lack of surprise is also the one faint criticism to level at this superb film: The Dardennes have done what they do so well for so long, it’s hard to know if “what they do” is starting to become slightly mechanical for them or simply too familiar for us. Though plenty of filmmakers would kill to have such problems.
Adèle Haenel plays Jenny, a Belgian doctor who cares for her town’s poorest. She’s a credit to her profession—sensitive, calm and patient—and soon she’ll be starting a new job with a prestigious health-care facility. But shortly before she leaves her old position, she’s contacted by detectives: A woman died nearby her clinic late last night, and they want to know if Jenny had any contact with her. To Jenny’s horror, she realizes that the dead woman was someone she had turned away because it was after-hours. Perhaps even worse, the deceased had no identification on her, so the police can’t contact next of kin. Feeling intensely guilty—a sentiment amplified by the fact that the woman was black—Jenny, who’s white, decides to do her own investigation to learn who she was and what happened to her.
The Unknown Girl could be seen as a continuation of the Dardenne brothers’ previous film, Two Days, One Night, which was also about a woman confronting a group of different individuals who weren’t particularly happy to speak with her. But where that film hung on the question of whether human kindness exists in a society in which everyone is hurting financially, The Unknown Girl explores how people would rather not get involved during difficult circumstances, happy to let others shoulder the moral responsibility.
The filmmakers’ version of a whodunit involves Jenny showing a picture of the dead girl to patients and her coworker Julien (Olivier Bonnaud), hoping that someone can provide some clues. Nothing can bring the woman back from the dead, but Jenny wants to believe that unearthing answers will at least soothe her conscience. What she soon discovers is that people don’t recognize the girl, and it doesn’t seem coincidental that everyone she asks—and everyone she knows—is white. There’s a collective guilt that hangs over these exchanges, as if the individuals Jenny interrogates feel slightly bad that they couldn’t possibly know this girl—or perhaps they’re resentful because they feel judged for that fact.
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
