Content warning: sexual assault.
I rarely leave a cinema shaking, but Josephine is a rattling film. Nonetheless a vital one.
Based on her own life experiences, writer and director Beth de Araújo asks an impossibly hard question: what if a child witnessed sexual violence they had no way of understanding? How would you help them process it as a parent? And how will seeing such a violent act manifest in their connection to the world?
One of the most important films of the year, Josephine might be disturbing and harrowing to watch, however, with one in five women in the United States experiencing rape or attempted rape during their lifetime, the unacceptable prevalence of such violence means it’s more crucial than ever to consider the impacts — on survivors and anyone connected to such crimes.
With magnificent, complex, and devastating performances from Channing Tatum and Gemma Chan (who also produced the film), and an intense breakout from extraordinary newcomer Mason Reeves, Josephine forces us to comprehend a child’s view of sexual violence. The reality is shattering.
Josephine brings a harrowing perspective to the impact of sexual assault
Rather than focusing on the experience of a survivor of sexual assault, Josephine considers the perspective of a young witness, someone who hasn’t even had a conversation about sex and consent with her parents and likely wouldn’t for years. And here, de Araújo’s Soft & Quiet cinematographer Greta Zozula balances a childlike point of view with searing reality.
Eight-year-old Josephine (Reeves) and her father Damien (Tatum) run through San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park every morning. It’s their thing. Through POV shots, we’re gleefully integrated into their routine, following the pair into the park as Josephine outruns her dad and takes a fateful fork in the road. However, what awaits in this everyday, playful situation is a nightmare, when Josephine’s path takes her to witnessing a brutal rape.
Notably, this pivotal attack against fellow runner Sandra (Syra McCarthy), occurs early in the film and in its entirety, with the remainder focused on the emotional aftermath and legal procedures. Zozula’s long-shot cinematography renders this disturbing, violent scene unsensationalised, seen from Josephine’s perspective. Like this child, we watch without being able to intervene, however, for the adult audience, there’s a cold undertow of understanding the young protagonist lacks.
The moments immediately after Sandra’s assault become a critical reflection on how law enforcement handles sexual assault; de Araújo has both Damien and the responding officers (all men) going into crisis management mode prioritising catching the perpetrator, while leaving Sandra alone, injured, traumatised, and searching for a glimmer of control. Josephine understands something happened, as she later googles the word “rape” after overhearing it from her dad. However, as her Damien instantly realises, her comprehension of Sandra’s pain will require a level of explanation — and he will differ from Josephine’s mother Claire (Chan) in how to help their eight-year-old grapple with such adult concepts. (Notably, Reeves herself was seven years old when shooting the film, something de Araújo navigated with care and her parents’ consultation.)
Though not physically involved in the assault, Josephine’s awareness of it begins to affect her mental health, manifesting in erratic behaviour, especially reacting to her parents’ intimacy and the presence of men or boys in any situation. Editors Anisha Acharya, Nico Leunen, and Kyle Reiter have her constantly replaying elements of that day in the park, and in one of the most chilling elements of the film, de Araújo has Sandra’s rapist, Greg (Philip Ettinger), physically haunting her at all hours, present in her own bedroom. Here, tiny Josephine experiences effects of sexual violence and trauma, with flashbacks and nightmares, as she tells law enforcement, “I see him everywhere, all the time.”
Channing Tatum and Gemma Chan are outstanding in Josephine
While Josephine struggles to make sense of what happened, Claire and Damien attempt to connect with their daughter — and become increasingly at odds with each other’s approach and whether Josephine testifies in court. Shrouded in composer Miles Ross’ haunting score, Tatum and Chan give career-best performances.
As Damien, Tatum brings his most dynamic and interior performance yet, a young father who feels the best way to protect his daughter from the adult world’s violence is to distract her — or prepare her to fight back. Damien distances himself and his family from Sandra’s rape, with the alternative of acknowledging such violence to his eight-year-old too much for him to bear, and Tatum’s ability to present a man both terrified and practical is nothing short of heartbreaking. As Damien and Claire’s physical connection becomes threatening and sinister to Josephine, and her once watertight relationship with her father becomes strained, Tatum shows intense vulnerability and hurt in his character.
For Claire, Josephine’s mother, it lands differently. Claire knows the context of her own experience, and in superb subtlety from Chan, hints at possible trauma herself. “Sometimes you tell the truth and it doesn’t even matter,” she says, and I promise you, women know what she means. Like Damien, Claire is crushed her daughter has become exposed to such brutality, however, she reacts strongly to Damien telling Josephine that such an attack will “never happen” to her, knowing well that male violence against women and girls continues to destroy lives, even take them.
Around Chan, Tatum, and Reeves, Josephine builds strong performances from its supporting cast representing the detectives, court-appointed witness advocates, and psychologists involved with building the case against Greg. Each interaction with Josephine and her parents feels tense and often chilling, especially hearing adult words and questions coming from a child. And importantly, de Araújo takes pains to show how long and drawn out the legal process can be in sexual assault cases, as well as the complexities of testifying. “Why didn’t you help?” Josephine is asked in court by the rapist’s defence lawyer. “Why aren’t you?” the child replies, in one of the film’s most powerfully quiet moments.
Ultimately, Josephine demands its audience consider the impact of a child exposed to sexual violence. Chillingly, the film has an undercurrent of impending maturity, a justified fear of possibility in adulthood. However, it also champions the strength of survival, whatever age a girl or woman may be — an ability to understand right from wrong, and the power of facing one’s ghosts. Or, as the film puts it, “becoming the ghost of your ghost.”
Josephine was reviewed out of BFI London Film Festival and will be released in cinemas Nov. 20.
If you have experienced sexual abuse, call the free, confidential National Sexual Assault hotline at 1-800-656-HOPE (4673), or access the 24-7 help online by visiting online.rainn.org.
