Some films take in excess of three hours to make a point. This one does so in less than 60 minutes, with the calm certainty of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing. Every scene feels placed, not padded.
Black Girl isn’t “issue cinema” so much as a scalpel. Diouana is hired with smiles and promises, then quietly reduced to a maid in a nice flat — expected to serve, stay silent, and be grateful for the privilege. Mbissine Thérèse Diop Is astonishing, often framed alone in blank rooms so the emptiness starts to feel like a cafe. The voiceover doesn’t “explain” her; it loops, doubles back, and traps you in the same circling thoughts.
Flashbacks turn hope into horror, and the letter-from-home scene is devastating — arriving as a reminder of everything she’s lost. The ending lands as a final grab at agency, and the Senegal coda delivers the bleak punchline: this isn’t a one-off. It’s a pattern.