Her Will Be Done

The portrait of an ordinary small town unfolds through a series of images, carried by the tune of a sluggish guitar. As a flute and a trumpet join in along the strings, we're introduced to the residents, seemingly unbothered by life’s burdens. The camera ventures deeper, unveiling a road of gravel and muck that leads to a rural community. Inside one of the houses, a silhouette stands in front of a large Christian altar, praying. 20-year-old Nawojka (Maria Wróbel) is conflicted about her secret, known only to her family. Haunted by the spirit of her mother, who is believed to have been possessed, her fate seems to be sealed within the village’s limits. But, in Julia Kowalski's latest feature, the desire for emancipation burns brightly, threatening the deeply rooted ways of the common folk and revealing the twisted ways in which they keep peace.

Family patriarch Henryk (Wojciech Skibinski) maintains strict control over the family farm. Despite his crutch, his presence commands respect from his two sons and Nawojka, who acts as a mother for Bogdan (Kuba Dyniewicz) and Tomek (Przemyslaw Przestrzelski), despite the latter preparing to wed. They are Polish migrants settled in a French community - their days are harsh yet uncomplicated. Yet Nawojka is unsettled, inspired to be a veterinarian after becoming a sort of apprentice to Franck (Jean-Baptiste Durand), the French doctor in the community. During dinner, she proposes to her father that she leave the village for her final exam. Hunched over the table, Henryk refuses eye contact, simply complimenting her cooking.

The peaceful order is disturbed by the arrival of Sandra, a pink-haired woman wearing a leg brace, who is rumoured to have killed her partner. Peeking at her through the cracks of the barn, Nawojka understands the community shuns the woman and develops a fascination with her. At night, the protagonist violently convulses, being tormented by the haunting presence. Through clenched teeth, she tells the spirit it’s God who is challenging it. Following this omen, Kowalski's narrative finds itself swallowed by the motifs of a twisted folktale.

The isolated community is palpable and often off-putting, with blood and mud framing the lives of the farmers. As an unnatural substance of white gelatinous texture creeps onto the properties, the cattle are taken by an unexplained fatal condition. Despite protesting the arrival of Franck, Henryk allows him to euthanise the animals with a bolt gun. The repetitive sound of a bolt gun piercing the flesh inflames Nawojka before she decides to save them.

Wróbel's physical acting takes command of the screen, her convulsions and fixated blue eyes expressing an unseen supernatural force that mirrors the character's desire for the bloodshed to stop. The expression of what is perceived as witchcraft goes against the father's prudent perspective. He wants to tame the supernatural with prayer, blessed talismans, and seclusion, ultimately wearing his daughter into a corner. The villagers blame Sandra for the cattle disease and label her a witch, despite her showing none of Nawojka's signs. For her, the unmistakable stigmata are her imputed frivolity, deviousness and unfamiliarity.

At Tomek's wedding to Frenchwoman Alice (Eva Lallier), the social order of the village is destabilised even as authority figures reaffirm their status. Fighting to be heard against the loud turbofolk music, the endearing Henryk finally raises a toast. Cheering for the hard-working French, while still expressing satisfaction at organising a Polish wedding, he reiterates his insular worldview. At the end of the table and out of the strobe lights, Nawojka’s faint smile signals her disconnect with Henryk. The arrival of Sandra prompts a bout of violence that separates the already-drunk Nawojka from her family.

After following the pink-haired woman, Nawojka encounters Franck and Badel (Raphaël Thiéry), the hedonistic village butcher. Enticed by the party, the women agree to take a ride in their jeep, the protagonist joining the doctor on the cargo bed. Despite the young woman's wide smile, the booming arrangement of a heavy metal song and haunting hum signal a hellish journey into the forest's depths. A gunshot pierces through the cacophony. As darkness obscures silhouettes, the destination discloses its perverted nature and reinstates the twisted power dynamics within the secluded community, which feels wholly unsuitable for the two so-called witches.

Kowalski's story of black magic and isolation takes command of its audience through a ghastly soundscape, a fiery desire to probe an authentic rural space and a young lead that tames the volatile diegesis while keeping it tethered to its eerie sensibility. By tying the supernatural to a troubled familial past, parochial views and a community's inability to change, the French-Polish director portrays coming-of-age not as a journey but as an exorcism that sears the screen with memorable intensity.

Reviewed on: 16 May 2025