The air in Prïncia Car’s The Girls We Want is thick with the heat of a Marseille summer and the restless energy of youth. In the city’s sun-bleached outer districts, a community center becomes the entire world for a group of adolescents.
At its center is Omar, a well-meaning 20-year-old whose dependable presence earns him the keys to the place. He is a gentle giant, navigating his summer responsibilities and a sweet, chaste romance with his 17-year-old girlfriend, Yasmine. The film initially presents a familiar tableau from European social-realist cinema: life in the banlieues, captured with an almost ethnographic patience.
We are introduced to a specific social ecosystem, where the rhythms of daily life and the bonds of friendship seem straightforward. Yet, beneath the surface of this seemingly simple coming-of-age story, a palpable tension waits for a spark. The film establishes its cultural footing immediately, rooting its story in a specific French reality while preparing to explore dynamics that feel universal.
An Archetype’s Return
The fragile peace of the group is shattered by the arrival of Carmen. Returning after a long absence that she spent as a sex worker, her presence acts as a powerful catalyst. The boys in Omar’s crew react with a mix of predatory curiosity and blunt judgment, their dialogue—forged in workshops with the non-professional actors—exposing a raw and rigid masculine code.
Suddenly, the film’s central conflict crystallizes around a classic binary: Yasmine, the pure girlfriend, and Carmen, the experienced outsider. This virgin/whore dichotomy is an ancient storytelling trope, but here it is filtered through the specific lens of contemporary French adolescent life. The film’s narrative strength in this section lies in its observational power.
Omar attempts to offer Carmen a genuine friendship, placing him at odds with his friends and creating a quiet rift with Yasmine, who watches the group’s behavior with a growing sense of critique. The boys’ hormonal posturing feels authentic, a testament to a filmmaking process that values lived experience.
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A Narrative Coup d’État
For its first two acts, the film anchors its perspective firmly to Omar. We see the world through his struggles and his quiet decency. Then, in a jarring structural pivot, the narrative abandons him. Just as his character arc reaches a critical point of tension, the point of view shifts abruptly to Yasmine and Carmen.
This decision feels less like a natural evolution and more like a narrative coup. While a story titled The Girls We Want should arguably center the girls, the film fails to lay the necessary foundation for this transfer of power. We have spent an hour investing in Omar’s story, only to have it sidelined.
Consequently, the female characters, who were kept at a distance for so long, are suddenly pushed into the spotlight without sufficient development. Their subsequent actions and the film’s climax feel emotionally weightless and hasty. This structural fracture undermines the story’s coherence, leaving the final third feeling like a different, less engaging film was grafted onto the beginning.
Authentic Lens, Artificial Heart
The film’s visual language speaks to its desire for realism. Raphaël Vandenbussche’s cinematography employs a fluid, hand-held style, using sun-drenched close-ups to create a documentary-like intimacy. This approach effectively captures the textures of Marseille and grounds the film in a tangible sense of place.
This visual authenticity, however, is frequently undercut by a hyperactive and conventional piano score. Where the camera invites us to observe, the music insists on telling us how to feel, creating a clash between the film’s raw aesthetic and its emotionally manipulative soundtrack.
The performances carry a similar authenticity, with Leïla Haïchour as Yasmine delivering a standout portrayal of quiet strength despite an underwritten role. The film is an ambitious attempt to dissect complex social codes, but its formal and narrative stumbles prevent it from delivering a clear statement. The final impression is of a work with a powerful sense of place and purpose, whose potential remains just out of reach.
The Girls We Want is a 93-minute French drama directed by Prïncia Car that premiered in the Directors’ Fortnight at Cannes on May 14, 2025 and is running in competition for the Caméra d’Or.
Full Credits
Director: Prïncia Car
Writers: Prïncia Car, Léna Mardi
Producers and Executive Producers: After Hours Production; Executive Producer Johanna Nahon
Cast: Houssam Mohamed, Leïa Haïchour, Lou Anna Hamon, Kader Benchoudar, Mortadha Hasni, Achraf Jamai, Nawed Selassie Said
Director of Photography (Cinematographer): Raphaël Vandenbussche
Editors: Flora Volpelière
Composer: Damien Bonnel, Kahina Ouali
The Review
The Girls We Want
The Girls We Want is a film of frustrating contradictions. It presents an authentic, lived-in portrait of Marseille youth, captured with intimate cinematography and grounded by strong, naturalistic performances. However, its admirable ambition to explore complex gender dynamics is critically undermined by a baffling narrative decision. By abandoning its protagonist midway through, the film sacrifices emotional coherence for a structural gambit that fails to land, leaving its important themes underdeveloped and its story feeling incomplete.
PROS
- Authentic depiction of Marseille's youth culture.
- Strong, documentary-style cinematography.
- Natural and compelling performances from the cast.
CONS
- A jarring and disruptive shift in narrative perspective.
- Key characters remain underdeveloped.
- An overbearing and emotionally manipulative score.
