The thin line between empathy and pity is one that becomes difficult to distinguish, but I believe what (typically) keeps the Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne from falling into the latter category is the genuine interest they have in their disenfranchised characters. After about a dozen films, it's easy to assume that the titular pair from Tori and Lokita might exist merely as abused conduits to express the Dardennes' ever-present antipathy towards the social structures present in their native Belgium, but there's a real tangibility to the relationship between these two "siblings" (which is in quotations for two reasons) that makes their presence feel like more than just soap boxes for the latest political cause on the brothers' minds.

In Tori and Lokita, the social ill being tackled is, to some extent, the bureaucracy (everyone's favourite!) of the immigration-processing system that corners already-traumatized youths into diving even further beyond the scope of what any child should be forced to endure. In practice, the Dardennes only give us two brief instances directly showing this system (in fact, only the one that opens the film is directly shown; the second is played entirely in another room), because in a mere hour-and-a-half, the Cannes-favourite siblings dedicate the bulk of their focus to the end result of Tori and Lokita's struggles rather than their root causes. All you need to know is how far a simple stamp of approval could carry someone above needless pain, and how unwilling the system is to actually make use of it.

Even by the visceral standards of the Dardenne brothers, Tori and Lokita depicts new lows of human indecency—its final moments especially being downright crushing—which is made all the more tragic by the three-dimensionality of those on its receiving end. Lokita suffers from panic attacks (because of course she does, after all she's been through), while going through hell to ensure that she remains as close as possible to her child compatriot, all the while sacrificing what little time they have together in every attempt to shield him from having to go through the same trials. Tori himself is demonstration of (yet again!) a compelling child performance (I guess all the good ones this year were sent straight to Cannes), showing craftiness and emotional understanding beyond his years, all the while making it obvious that no child should ever be put into a position where these qualities should even be necessary to such an extent.

If by now, you've seen enough Dardenne brothers films and feel like their particular brand of piercing social realism is a bit too bleak for you, then Tori and Lokita won't make you see the light. In fact, this may be the film that pushes you over the edge into thinking they're just deprived masochists. (The widespread criticisms for their previous film, Young Ahmed, had more to do with the brothers' tackling of that specific subject matter than any apparent sadism in their presentation.) 

There is, to be fair, purpose to their pain, and the interest that Jean-Pierre and Luc have in depicting their leads goes beyond merely showing us that pain. Through it all, Tori and Lokita makes no assumptions about a hopeful break in the cycle of exploitation and violence, but the haunting chill of perpetuity that hangs over the brief flashes of life that the Dardennes give us are, on occasion, an imperative wake-up call; not necessarily one that tells us to spring to action, but one that often tells us there may actually be no use in trying, and all we can do is be more aware.

2022 Ranked.

Cannes 2022.
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