Chaylla is a powerful portrait of a woman fighting her addiction to an abusive relationship as well as a substantiated plea for a more empathic judicial system.
It is not often we see Chaylla’s face soften in this film, which follows her through her attempts to put an end to her relationship with the father to her two little boys. Only when she’s holding her newborn Warren do you see the tenderness she otherwise keeps hidden. The little boy is the last of her children with William, with whom she got together again after swearing she was done with him.
When the documentary starts, Chaylla is talking to a social worker of some kind, explaining why she had to leave William. She speaks of his abusive and violent behaviour and of his drinking habits. The lines in her still young but tired face are hard, her eyes dark and sad. The camera clings to her, capturing every change in her mood, trying to get as close as possible to this woman who keeps her true feelings well hidden.
But in the film we get to know Chaylla as she soldiers on, talking to her best friend Micheline, who is also a divorced mother with a taste for abusive men. In each other’s company they can unwind, let their guards down, complain about men and make jokes about how they keep making the same mistakes. The moments when they laugh, dance, splash around in the sea, celebrate another birthday of one of their children, almost feel romantic – the way they hold each other, look at each other, take care of each other. They even joke they are each other’s Prince Charming, even though it is clear they both are attracted to (the wrong kind of) men.
These moments offer glimmers of hope as Chaylla faces a mountain of problems: when she finally decided to cut the ties with William for good, he starts legal actions to try and get custody of the children, while stalking and threatening her. Her aid workers help her put together a case, but they are not very optimistic given their experiences in courts in these instances. Apparently the legal system has a track record of scepticism towards women who are, or claim to be, a victim of domestic violence.
The documentary is a well-balanced portrait of Chaylla with the camera closely follows her in her daily life, with her children, family and friends. It sketches her circumstances without comment – it is never explicitly mentioned she comes from a deprived background but the people and décor at her son’s birthday say it all. We also learn about her in her conversations with her aid workers, who ask her about her feelings, fears and ambitions. It is inspiring to see her attitude change throughout the film.
In her first encounters with them it is clear she wasn’t ready to face the ugly truth about her boyfriend, but towards the end she has found some power from within – even when she’s lost enormous amounts of weight because of the constant harassment by William.
Slowly but surely the real Chaylla starts to emerge as she comes to terms with the traumas of her past, the harsh reality of the present and her hopeful ambitions for the future. The camera has captured this painful and necessary process in an empathic and realistic way, choosing the footage very carefully and respectfully. It feels like you are actually taking this journey with her and have got to know her at the end. It is a rewarding, inspiring and sometimes uncomfortable journey, but one totally worth taking.
France, 2022, 72 mins
Dir: Clara Teper & Paul Pirritano
Language: French (subtitles: English)
Sales: Marc Faye, Novanima Productions
Script: Clara Teper, Paul Pirritano
Camera: Paul Pirritano
Sound: Clara Teper
Editors: Pascale Hannoyer, Manuel Vidal
Production: Marc Faye, Novanima Productions
