IN MY ROOM (2020) by Mati Diop

by TWY

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Last year, Mati Diop’s Atlantics, her debut feature and international breakthrough, didn’t strike me as the finest hour in her already decade-long filmography – a ghost story that sees its political potential in genres, but then was swallowed by the baggages that comes with it. But with the new short In My Room (premiered at Venice and now on MUBI), which opens a shot of Diop herself, on-camera for the first time in her directorial work, opening up the blinds in her Parisian studio, that signature sensitivity that haunts Mille Soleils and Big in Vietnam immediately announces its return. The shot, of course, also echoed the ending of Snow Canon, where a young girl, who was left in a state of unknown and solitude after just experienced desire, puts the blinds down. And now, with a film made during the confinement, and with only herself in the room, the director spilts into a trio of sources and gazes: the shots through the windows, the self-portrait (courtesy of Miu Miu), and the recorded messages with her late grandmother, Maji. Diop once again displayed wonderful musicality, which now comes as no surprise, as the conversations from the past flows through our current world, with intertwining music and noises, and of course, the Sun that has always been luminous in her cinema. One might be thinking of Chantal Akerman’s work while watching Diop playing with similar subjects, but this is also where Diop reserves herself: the actress and director seems much more reluctant in front of her own camera, unlike Akerman who was explosively unapologetic. The wavelength differs here. Diop’s self-portrait seems to associate more with doubt. Somehow it seemed wrong, forced and not at ease. But again, how does one be at ease with one’s own gaze? But at the same time, attempts were glimpsed towards a sensuality of being truly oneself – ultimately, a fashion commission becomes a meditation on one’s own history. Meanwhile, from the window, she films her distant neighbors, glimpses through their solitude and closeness – its distance and its voyeurism is just right, for the world on lockdown remains lovable, intimate; a world in soulful isolation, where images and sound can still reach to all the others.