Selma, released in 2014, established DuVernay as a pivotal voice in contemporary American cinema, particularly for its examinations of race and justice. Since then, audiences have seen his work expand with projects like the documentary Amendment XIII (2016) and the miniseries So They See Us (2019), which continue to engage with systemic racism in the United States. The latest project is framed with a bold, research-like ambition in its promotional materials, titled The Birth of Injustice and the Hidden Truth. Yet the central challenge remains: the film often promises more than it delivers, creating a widening gap between the stated aims and the viewer’s actual experience.
Origin appears in today’s festival lineup as a half-fictional adaptation drawn from the article Casta: The Origin That Separates Us, published in 2020 by journalist Isabel Wilkerson. This work dramatizes portions of the author’s life and rests on a theoretical premise: that what we commonly label racism is not simply individual hostility but a product of deeply embedded, institutionalized systems of exploitation. Such structures have historically legitimized the supposed superiority of one group over another, and they help explain not only the oppression of African Americans in the United States but also the persecution of Jews in Nazi Germany and the social marginalization of the Dalit community in India.
It is a compelling concept, though not a new or hidden one. The film, however, leans on Wilkerson’s framework as if it were a guiding vision, reciting the theory while avoiding deeper examination. The narrative seeks to present the idea in the most straightforward, instructional manner, inviting viewers to reflect and, perhaps, feel a sense of discomfort or humiliation in confronting such pervasive truths.
Origin follows Wilkerson as he explains the historical episodes that illustrate the core argument, often through scenes of his travels and conversations with experts who explore the topic. The approach aligns with the appearance of an academic thesis, more documentary in tone than cinematic drama. Meanwhile, the director uses personal family scenes to supply emotional weight, attempting to counterbalance the documentary’s gravity with intimate testimony. Yet this domestic focus to support the central thesis can feel disconnected from the film’s broader theme, limiting its resonance and impact.
First person pass
If Origin continues the director’s established path, Io Capitano stands as a detour within the filmmaker’s body of work. The film marks a departure from the highly stylized cinema that has characterized earlier projects. In contrast to his recent approach, the director returns to earlier roots, echoing the mood of his first two features and revisiting a simpler, more direct form of storytelling. The new work shifts away from elaborate stylization and embraces a more grounded, straightforward narrative voice.
The story centers on the journey of a Senegalese teenager who, alongside his cousin, attempts to flee to Italy in pursuit of a dream. They set out with limited clarity about what awaits them, only to face life-threatening trials, harsh exhaustion, and repeated abuses at the hands of those who exploit the vulnerable. The filmmaker explains that the aim was to reveal how the world often categories migrants using a single, reductive lens, ignoring the complex human experiences behind such voyages. The result is one of the director’s more restrained efforts, lacking the dense allegorical weight of some of his previous works. It nonetheless offers a candid look at the harsh realities faced by migrants and what is lost when stories are reduced to simple labels of victimhood or culpability. The film resists easy solutions and avoids melodrama, allowing audiences to wrestle with difficult questions rather than leaving them with tidy answers.