Born in Stamford, Connecticut, in 1994, Terra Alexis Wallace was found hanged in her bedroom in Bridgeport, a port city in the same state, in 2008. The autopsy reveals that the 13-year-old did not take her own life, but that she was sexually assaulted and then strangled. “My heart is heavy, heavy, heavy. I can no longer wear it. I need to put it on the ground. Need to throw it overboard so it drifts to Haiti. We must go back there. Together. Like a little girl and her mother”, whispers in an elegiac tone Miryam Charles in Creole (we translate) at the beginning of This househis first feature film.
In this hypnotic eulogy halfway between documentary and fiction, launched at the Berlinale and winner of the Silvestre prize for best feature film at the IndieLisboa International Film Festival, the Montreal director pays tribute to her American cousin, with whom she shares Haitian roots, imagining what she would have become if she hadn’t been murdered.
“What we propose, an announcement of things to come. Install the possibility of fluid travel in time and space. My story is both tragic and filled with hope. Hope gives life, ”explains in his beautiful voice Schelby Jean-Baptiste, who is preparing to play Terra, here called Tessa, alongside Florence Blain Mbaye in the role of Valeska, the bereaved mother.
Totally invested, the two talented actresses generously lend themselves to the filmmaker’s proposals. Sometimes playing everyday scenes with naturalness, sometimes borrowing a solemn tone to recite dialogues similar to litanies during moments when the story slips towards oneirism. Sometimes in decors loaded with objects from the past, giving the pieces a museum and timeless look, sometimes in front of a screen transporting them to distant places.
In places, This house is closer to filmed theater than to cinema, especially when the deceased speaks directly to the camera, as if defying her cousin or reproaching her for preventing her from resting in peace. “We are fantasizing. That’s what we do here, right? We’re trying… we’re trying to write a story, another story, an impossible story,” she says. Although the desire to break the fourth wall creates a distancing effect, it does not harm the emotion aroused by the young girl’s tragic fate.
With the complicity of director of photography Isabelle Stachchenko and editor Xi Feng, the director scrolls through images of Haiti, Connecticut and Quebec, as if she were slowly turning the pages of an old family photo album. The grain and faded colors provided by the 16mm format amplify the intimate and nostalgic nature of This house. Rocked by the music with its serious and melancholic accents by Romain Camiolo, the singular reflection on mourning offered by Miryam Charles stands out for its audacity. As disconcerting as it may be, it certainly does not lack sincerity or courage.