Life hits hard in Kinshasa, but Félicité hits back—at least at first. The film’s opening half if electric: a no-nonsense bar singer pounding the pavement for cash to save her sone, her fury and fear held just beneath the surface. Véro Tshanda Beya is magnetic—tough, watchful, and quietly devastating. Even when saying little, she holds the screen like someone who’s spent years refusing to be ignored.
Once her son returns home and the crisis cools, the film downshifts. It trades urgency for introspection. The pace slows, but the emotional payoff builds. Alain Gomis’ direction is patient, and Céline Bozon’s cinematography finds beauty in both the bustle and stillness—neon lit bars, humming streets, and shafts of morning light slicing through concrete.
Not all of it fits snugly together, but the images linger and the emotion simmers. Sometimes resilience is found not in action, but in refusal to collapse.