LA SYNDICALISTE - Mark Reviews Movies

La Syndicaliste, Kino Lorber

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Review by Mark Dujsik | November 30, 2023

Nothing established at the start of La Syndicaliste really matters. After its prologue, co-writer/director Jean-Paul Salomé's film begins as the story of a whistleblower within the merged worlds of French nuclear power and politics. It's overwhelming, in a way, as the film gives us various real people of noted power and of lesser but significant influence, battling and backstabbing in offices, over the phone, and to various politicians. Just as we're getting a grasp of the players and the stakes at hand, though, the film sidesteps, because some problems overshadow even what seem to be the most vital of matters.

This story, based on a true one as documented in a book by journalist Caroline-Michel-Aguirre, is about a horrific crime and what is arguably an equally or more horrifying aftermath. It revolves around Maureen Kearney (Isabelle Huppert), the aforementioned whistleblower, who uncovered a potential scandal involving the peddling of French nuclear energy plans and technology to China. The confusion here almost seems like an intentional move by Salomé and co-screenwriter Fadette Drouard (although it might simply be a lack of awareness of such systems for those outside of France and maybe Europe), because the story does often feel like a puzzle to be solved about who is who, who did what, and why those whos and whats matter so much in the big picture.

The prologue, though, defines the real course of this story. We hear a phone call from a woman to emergency services. She, a cleaning woman, has found her boss Maureen tied up to a chair in the basement of her home. Her mouth had been taped shut, and her head was covered by a stocking hat. Worst of all, she had been sexually violated by a knife, and if there's any consolation in such an unthinkably awful crime, it's that the blade was not involved in that violation.

The story proper starts about a month prior to the assault and rape, so the understanding that all of these various pieces of public policy and secret politics will somehow lead to the crime is always there. The reason for it, then, is almost a given, and even though the identity or identities of Maureen's attacker or attackers would seem to be the primary point of the plot, it barely comes into play. That's part of the horror here.

Instead, the story becomes a study of power. It's also a tale, not only of how power can be abused to such violent extremes, but also of how many people in various positions of power are able, willing, and almost compelled to abuse it. Maureen's assault is not only perpetrated by the specific criminal or criminals. It was likely orchestrated and ordered by someone else—someone who felt threatened by whatever information and, hence, power she potentially held over that person. It's allowed to be dismissed, ignored, and even turned against her by other people of authority, who are meant to serve and protect the public—but both come up absurdly short and become offenders in their own ways here.

The initial plot follows Maureen, an elected trade unionist within the Areva group, in late 2012. The organization works in nuclear power, with Maureen serving as an advocate for its tens of thousands of unionized workers. Her boss, a woman named Anne Lauvergeon (Marina Foïs), has decided to retire, and instead of following her lead, Maureen, who has been with the organization for 25 years, decides to serve another term and keep Luc Oursel (Yvan Attal), the new head, in check. She'll retire with her husband Gilles Hugo (Grégory Gadebois) sooner or later.

Instead, word of a secret deal with China, unknown to most in Areva or in the world of politics beyond it, comes her way via an anonymous tipster. It would mean that country could manufacture technology, sell it to France and elsewhere, and, ultimately, reduce the need for local workers. Maureen starts going over her boss' head and behind his back to let the new administration know of the deal, but before she can meet with the French President, she is held captive, assaulted, and raped with that knife in her own home.

Even if the initial section of the film doesn't have much to do with the ensuing plot (It mostly serves to suggest a more-then-likely motive for the attack), it does go a long way to developing the type of person Maureen is—confident, determined, unwavering, passionate about her work for noble reasons. Obviously, Huppert communicates all of that with ease, making the aftermath of the attack reveal such a change. It's subtle, because Maureen still seems in total control of herself and what she wants to do, but Huppert gives the sense that those characteristics are more a show now, capable of being demolished at any moment. She's still a fighter, but what is there to fight for or against after such terror and in the midst of trauma?

The bulk of the plot, then, turns on the investigation into the attack and, more vitally, how that investigation transforms into a nightmare of uncertainty and doubt for Maureen and against her assertions. Salomé finds just the right balance in terms of tone, while the screenplay does so in terms of how and when details are revealed. The film makes a point of the questions surrounding the attack without ever calling Maureen's story into question. That's left to the police, who—by way of incompetence, disinterest, prejudice, or all of those—fail and scapegoat the victim.

Yes, Huppert holds most of this together with her nuanced performance. However, La Syndicaliste is also a fairly nuanced piece of filmmaking about the abuse of power and women on a personal and systemic level.

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