Directed and written by Jeanne Herry, All Your Faces or Je verrai toujours vos visages (2023) is a French drama delving into the reality of restorative justice programs by tracking the journeys of participants, who are each affected in their own way. We follow victims of robberies and home invasions Grégoire (Gilles Lellouche), Nawalle (Leïla Bekhti), and Sabine (Miou-Miou) as well as perpetrators Nassim (Dali Bensalah), Issa (Birane Ba), and Thomas (Fred Testot) meeting with professionals Fanny (Suliane Brahim) and Michel (Jean-Pierre Darroussin) in what begins as a weekly program.
The second storyline concerns Chloé Delarme, played by Adèle Exarchopoulos, navigating her personal journey as a sexual assault victim-survivor with the support of psychologist Judith (Elodie Bouchez) and her partner Mehdi (Sébastien Houbani) to confront her abusive step-brother Benjamin Delarme (Raphaël Quenard).
All Your Faces begins with a mock discussion where restorative justice facilitators are enacting a meeting. At once, it is clear that Herry seeks to offer an uncompromising look at the process, delving into both the criticisms and the benefits. Their superior Paul (Denis Podalydès) tells the facilitators that “you can’t imagine what [perpetrators] feel”, and that there was excessive commentary and judgement, as well as closed questions and unnecessary suggestions. Before leaving, the superior says, “you’re not here as a lawyer or cop” to weed out information, rather as someone to provide a comforting space where everyone can listen to one another.
Throughout the film, restorative justice is emphasised as a voluntary, weekly program that does not alleviate a perpetrator’s sentence. The gathering itself involves one simple rule: to pass around a baton-like stick when each person wants to speak. Therefore, everyone is a “participant”, including the professionals leading the sessions and support volunteers.
When Nassim, one of the perpetrators, interprets the program as “victims meet inmates”, it is explained to him with altered language as a meeting between someone who “perpetrated offences” and “people who were victims.” While Nassim does not disagree with being sent to prison for his actions, he argues that victims receive reparations, before exclaiming: “I don’t get why victims don’t move on”. This line was particularly disarming, and the listener is inclined to shout “of course, victims don’t just move on!” However, Herry reminds us that individuals like Nassim are used to being identified as the offender, and sometimes they cannot escape this categorisation or empathise with others outside of their circumstances. It does not absolve him for his short sightedness, but his willingness to attend the program and hear from victims, places him on a journey from “hav[ing] nothing to say” to gaining a transformed perspective.
All Your Faces does not uplift one perspective over the other, but it gives victims the opportunity to fully express their emotions. They are allowed to be sceptical of the sincerity of the perpetrators, and reprimand them for being individualistic in their perception of crime.
The film does not shy away from exploring the vulnerability and fear experienced during and after a crime. Gregoire says that recounting the home invasion makes him relive the iron tang in his mouth while being gagged, and that this one moment had a severe effect on his family. For example, his young daughter was held in her room and traumatised again after having not been believed when she told the court that the invader had a knife.
Herry addresses how socioeconomic disadvantages experienced by some individuals in society may push them to become perpetrators, with participants initially telling the perpetrators to keep applying for jobs, and not always blame external circumstances for their life choices. As time progresses, participants begin to realise how mental barriers also play a role in entrenching recidivism, but also offer to help perpetrators fill out forms and apply for jobs.
The human tendency to break down barriers and relate to one another occurs across the film’s runtime. During lunch breaks, everyone is shown intermingling together, whether by eating, smoking or exchanging stories beyond the scope of crime. When Thomas talks about his drug addiction in the vein of someone’s passion for art and music, Sabine is empathetic to this comparison. When Sabine blames herself for the attack she experienced, and downplays it upon hearing other stories, Thomas reassures her that it is a big deal, and everyone gets up to comfort her. At this point in the story, each participant provides validation unprompted and without picking up the stick or being called upon to speak.
As for the second storyline, Chloé who was sexually assaulted and raped by her older brother from age of seven, is the one who initiates the proceedings to meet after having not seen him for years after the trial. Even though she understands why there are certain rules in place, Chloé recognises the difference in expectations between her and Benjamin. She vocalises her frustrations to Judith saying “sometimes it twists my gut, you protecting us both equally”, which poses the question, does restorative justice place both parties on an equal playing field?
Benjamin is not seen at all until the very end where he meets with Chloé, and it is a gripping scene. Early on in the conversation he says, “You look like Mum. You’re beautiful,” and it is difficult to not feel repulsed as a viewer. However, Chloé controls the conversation by asking other questions and does not give him to overpower her. This iteration of restorative justice is a stark contrast to the group sessions, but Chloé is still able to continue her healing process.
While each actor is afforded the opportunity to deliver a riveting monologue, Exarchopoulos as Chloé gives the standout performance, having won Best Supporting Actress at the 2024 César Awards. Her portrayal of a victim-survivor was raw and heartbreaking as we see her shift from being composed, before releasing her anger and reconnecting with her buried child self.
The storytelling approach often comes across as if it is from the observatory or ethnographic perspective of workers, and yet the perspectives of victim-survivors and perpetrators are not undermined. As such, the film is dialogue-heavy, but it does not uphold this at the expense of indicating the power of listening. The camera tends to focus on each speaker, and only shows the reactions of listeners afterwards, giving respect to the person speaking, as well as the person receiving the information.
The program facilitators do question their roles, and whether they should be more active, especially if a perpetrator who has been convicted still doesn’t grasp the consequences of their actions. They say that they are often not believed about how powerful restorative justice can be, and are called naive. Yet Herry does not provide a definitive conclusion on the effectiveness of restorative justice but shows that everyone will experience it differently.
The film’s purpose is best described by Judith: “I’m not here to judge if she’s right to want to [speak to perpetrators]. I’m here to create good conditions for their dialogue.” Watch this film when you can, because it spotlights the people experiencing the justice system, rather than the system itself.
All Your Faces (2023) screened at the 2024 Alliance Française French Film Festival.
