Film Review: “Àma Gloria”

Guest post by rémy-paulin twahirwa (he/they). rémy-paulin twahirwa is a PhD researcher in the Department of Sociology at the London School of Economics and Political Science (London, UK). His work focuses on migration, carcerality, (anti-)colonialism and the British immigration detention estate. As an abolitionist organiser, rémy has been active in the migrant justice movement in so-called Canada and recently in the UK where he currently resides. To follow him on bluesky: @rpaulint.bsky.social or contact him at: r.twahirwa@lse.ac.uk. He reviews this film in advance of the London Migration Film Festival 2024. ‘Àma Gloria’ will be screened on the 25th of November (6:20pm) at The Lexi Cinema as part of the London Migration Film Festival 2024.  

A Mother’s Work: Review of Àma Gloria (Dir: Marie Amachoukeli-Barsacq, 2024) 

In September, The New Yorker published an issue that sparked significant debate and praise online. The cover illustration, titled A Mother’s Work, was created by R. Kikuo Johnson. It depicts a playground scene where young children are playing and running, supervised by two women. Both women have darker skin tones than the children in their care. One woman, who appears to be Black, cradles a white toddler in her arms while showing a photo on her phone of a young Black man in a graduation gown to the second woman, who seems to have just arrived at the playground. The second woman, who might be Latina, holds a pink children’s scooter, presumably belonging to a young white girl dressed in pink clothing and a helmet standing nearby. 

Johnson’s illustration provides an unflinching commentary on the role of these women, portraying them as central figures in the lives of the children they care for. On the cover of a magazine primarily aimed at an upper-middle-class, white, and liberal readership, the image draws attention to the often-overlooked reality: these are the women who teach, feed, clean, play, and nurture other people’s children—women who are, in effect, paid to be their mothers. The photo on the Black woman’s phone adds a moving, yet subtle, dimension to the narrative: while these women care for others’ children, who is looking after their own? These questions are explored in Marie Amachoukeli’s Àma Gloria which will be part of this year’s London Migration Film Festival.  

The film tells the story of Cléo (the captivating Louise Mauroy-Panzani), a six-year-old white French girl, and her nanny, Gloria (Ilça Moreno Zego, whose performance is also noteworthy), who is forced to return to her home country after the death of her mother. Before leaving Paris, Gloria asks Cléo’s father, Arnaud (Arnaud Rebotini), to send his daughter to Cape Verde for her summer holiday. At first hesitant, Arnaud finally concedes as he’s faced with Cléo’s distress after Gloria’s departure and his own incapacity to manage parenting alone due to his work commitments.  

Àma Gloria combines animation—hypnotic, dreamlike, and vividly colourful moving drawings depicting Cléo’s memories and feelings—with live action to explore Cléo’s inner and outer worlds. The deep bond between Cléo and Gloria is evident early in the film. In a poignant scene Cléo, looking at photos of Gloria with her family, confesses that all her memories involve her nanny which confirms the deep impact of Gloria’s departure on Cléo’s life. The first act of the film tenderly portrays this maternal bond, focusing on their relationship in France. The subsequent acts shift to Cape Verde, offering a glimpse of what Gloria has left behind, namely her son César (Fredy Gomes Tavares) and her pregnant daughter (Abnara Gomes Varela). 

Although Cléo’s mother is absent, the film subtly suggests that both Cléo and her father view Gloria as a surrogate for this role. Gloria herself refers to Cléo as her daughter, much to the anger of her husband (or another close relative, as this remains ambiguous), who reminds her that her ‘real’ children are at home. 

The film explores the complex dynamics between Cléo and Gloria’s children, particularly César, who competes for his mother’s affection. This tension highlights the emotional and social costs many migrant domestic workers pay to provide for their families while working in the Global North. César’s resentment and palpable hatred towards his mother poignantly voice the frustration, anger, and envy felt by children growing up without their parents’ presence. While the film thoughtfully examines the strained relationship between Gloria, her children and Cléo, it notably overlooks Gloria’s struggles as a racialised migrant domestic worker in France. 

In the UK, for example, reports have documented numerous cases of abuse, exploitation, and poor working conditions faced by these workers. In 2022, following years of campaigning by grassroots groups and charities, the movement achieved a landmark victory when the UK government abolished the ‘family worker exemption.’ This policy had previously excluded au pairs, nannies, and carers from entitlement to the national minimum wage. Despite this progress, the sector continues to face significant structural challenges, including tensions rooted in class and racial interests between migrant and native workers. 

However, the film never fully engages with these colonial, class, gendered and racial dynamics underpinning Gloria’s situation, a notable shortcoming for the movie. This absence leaves aspects of Gloria’s children’s reactions to Cléo’s presence in Cape Verde underexplored. Nevertheless, like R. Kikuo Johnson’s illustration A Mother’s Work, the film is ultimately more invested in exploring the nuances of parenthood, especially motherhood, than in interrogating systemic inequalities. On this level, Amachoukeli’s slow-paced movie spoke eloquently for itself: all the main characters are, for various and clashing reasons, mourning their mothers.   

Resources:  

• London Migration Film Festival’s Programme 

• Nanny Solidarity Network 

• To build a better childcare system, rethink who ‘counts’ as a childcare worker 

• Solidarity and care during the Covid-19 pandemic 

Any comments about this post? Get in touch with us! Send us an email, or post a comment here or on Facebook. You can also tweet us.