FFilmmaker Claire Simon herself operates the camera for this extraordinary film, assuming the traditional vérité position of an observing fly on the wall and silently recording consultations and procedures in a women’s medicine, obstetrics and gynecology department in a Parisian hospital. Except at one crucial point, two-thirds of the way through the film’s 168-minute running time, the fly turns the camera on herself when she discovers that she too has cancer, as do some of the people she has filmed. Simon’s willingness to open up and reveal her condition is remarkable, but by this point in the film viewers will have become deeply aware of how open and courageous every patient we’ve met has been in allowing her – and us – in these intensely intimate moments. .
In a natural order, the first women we meet are pregnant and in two cases they ask for an end to their relationship. There is no judgment from any of the doctors, and if there were it would be hard to tell as this was filmed during Covid and everyone is wearing masks. That said, a doctor politely asks each of his patients to unmask for a moment so that everyone can see each other better.
We then move on to a teenage trans man who is looking forward to taking testosterone once he turns 18. He might consider, the doctor suggests, having some eggs harvested before hormone treatment begins, in case he wants to have children in the future. This scene is connected to another in which we meet a middle-aged trans woman who is being counseled on why she should start lowering her own dose of female hormones for health reasons, causing a kind of menopause.
Elsewhere, we see a woman stoically giving birth, barely complaining as she pushes the little one out. We see the entire process of IVF, from harvesting the eggs and fertilization to implantation in the uterus of the hopeful expectant mother.
And then there are the cancer patients. Clearly, anyone who has had cancer or been close to one should take this as a trigger warning: there are plenty of heartbreaking scenes in which women confront their own mortality and loss of autonomy. But even here there are flashes of humor: a young woman jokes about how all the Uber drivers pass her by because of her glamorous wig. The camera’s gaze isn’t ruthless, but there’s not an ounce of sentimentality – just an unwavering willingness to look straight ahead at all of life, without blinking.