Julia Ducournau returned to the Cannes Film Festival in 2025 with great expectations on her shoulders, following the Palme d’Or-winning and fantastically disturbing Titane (2021). This time, she arrives with a more grounded, personal film that still carries her signature body horror aesthetics—but trades high-concept shock for something more emotionally resonant. Alpha draws allegorical parallels to the AIDS epidemic of the 1980s, imagining a world where the infected slowly turn into marble statues. It’s a film that touches on societal paranoia, coming-of-age in the shadow of illness, and the intimate bonds between those affected, wrapped in surreal imagery that only Ducournau could conjure.
The film is roughly divided into two halves. The first focuses on the spreading paranoia around Alpha, a teenage girl who may have contracted a mysterious illness after getting a tattoo at a party. This portion taps into the fears of her schoolmates, teachers, and especially her mother—a doctor who treats infected patients and whose brother is already living with the disease. The second half shifts gears toward something quieter and more introspective, centering on the family’s emotional reckoning, the infected’s search for meaning, and the slow process of letting go.
The two parts don’t blend seamlessly, but they’re compelling in their own right. The tension in the first half is palpable, with standout moments like the chaos at Alpha’s school pool or blood dripping onto a projected image—both extremely striking and memorable. It also does a great job establishing Alpha as a character and grounding her in a world full of fear, fragility, and misunderstanding.
The more meditative second half feels a bit weaker by comparison—more abstract and emotionally distant—but it’s elevated by three excellent central performances. Tahar Rahim, in particular, is quietly devastating, and the film finds real tenderness in his arc. The mother, however, is sidelined for much of the final act, which slightly detracts from the emotional payoff. Still, when a key moment finally lands, it lands hard.
Some critics have questioned the use of metaphor to portray a real-life tragedy like AIDS, but I don’t share that concern. Cinema has long used allegory to explore trauma, and Ducournau’s approach—though stylized—feels sincere. Her world might be heightened, even surreal, but the emotions ring true. The disease in Alpha is cruel and unforgiving, and the film made me feel the weight of that—no matter how abstract the framing.
Ducournau’s Alpha uses haunting visuals to explore AIDS through metaphor, capturing fear and fragile relationships with uneven but striking results. The film isn’t as polished or cohesive as it could be—a few more passes on the script might have brought its pieces together more tightly. At times, it feels more like a collection of standout moments than a fully unified whole. And while, aside from the unforgettable back examination scene, it’s visually a step down from the visceral intensity of Titane, Alpha remains a bold and commendable shift from a filmmaker who continues to push boundaries—and for that, she’ll always have my attention.
- Where to watch
Buy or rent
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- Original title
- Alpha
- Director
- Julia Ducournau
- Genre
- Horror, Drama, Science Fiction
- Cast
- Mélissa Boros, Tahar Rahim, Golshifteh Farahani, Emma Mackey, Finnegan Oldfield, Louai El Amrousy, Ambrine Trigo Ouaked, Zohra Benbetka
- Rated
- R
- Screenwriter
- Julia Ducournau
- Composer
- Jim Williams
- Cinematography
- Ruben Impens
- Editor
- Jean-Christophe Bouzy
- Country
- Language
- French
- Box office
- $1.078 million
- Buy / rent (CA)
- Apple TV Store, Amazon Video
