Goodbye Julia review: Sudan’s Oscar entry is one of 2023’s best films

Director Mohamed Kordofani's debut is a scathing indictment of racism in his home country

Mona, played by Eiman Yousif, left, and Julia, played by Siran Riak, in Mohamed Kordofani’s Goodbye Julia. Photo: Station Films

The origin of Sudanese director Mohamed Kordofani’s powerful feature debut Goodbye Julia can be traced back to a single day: February 7, 2011. That afternoon, the filmmaker was with his mother and father at their family home in Khartoum when it was announced that the country’s south had voted to secede from Sudan, with nearly 99 per cent of the vote in favour.

The results of the referendum reshaped the region, splitting the country in two and forming the nation of South Sudan. For Kordofani himself, it was a moment of existential crisis. Suddenly, the bigotry that he had long accepted as a fact of life, having grown up in a household staffed entirely by those from the south and a city that treated its black population as second-class citizens, was something he was forced to contend with. He looked inward, and he didn’t like what he saw.

Almost 13 years later, a film that brings to life his inner conversations is capturing huge attention not only in his own country, but across the world. After picking up the first Freedom Prize at the 2023 Cannes Film Festival, the film collected an additional 16 awards as it toured global festivals, entered into the running for the 2024 Academy Award for Best International Feature Film but was not shortlisted, and has recently generated a surprising box office return in its current theatrical run in the Middle East, bringing in tens of thousands of ticket buyers during its limited release across the Gulf.

The Julia the title refers to is a young woman from the south played by Sudanese model Siran Riak, who lives in the UAE. When the film begins, she's in the then-unified country's capital with her husband and son, living in a tent after being evicted from their home explicitly due to the colour of their skin. In the film’s heart-rending opening sequence, a northern Sudanese woman named Mona (Eiman Yousif) accidentally hits Julia's son with a car. Her husband is the only witness of the event, pursuing Mona with his motorbike after she flees the scene.

Mona calls her husband Akram (Nazar Goma), who we’ve already seen is more vocally bigoted than his wife. “A southerner is chasing me!” she screams to him in panic, never mentioning the accident that led to the chase. When they arrive at her home, Julia's husband attempts to talk to Akram, who then shoots him dead.

What follows is where the film turns from shocking to emotionally gripping, as the lives of the three leads begin to intertwine.

Each character is in a prison of circumstance, we learn. Mona in a prison of her own lies, living in fear of her overbearing husband. Akram is trapped in a traditional mindset, treating southerners as inherently inferior and his wife as a caged bird. And Julia is stuck with limited options of how to provide for her son and herself in a city that has grown increasingly inhospitable to those of her race and background.

What makes it all work so well is the empathy that the film shows the three, not only holding them accountable for their flaws, but giving each space to reckon with them. Racism and misogyny are realities, but are not inexorable parts of life, and society is capable of growth. Even if every person will not make the choice to change, it is there, if they have the courage to see their own failings and work to fix them.

When the events of the film ultimately reach the same historical event that inspired it, it serves as a heart-breaking indictment of the society that allowed the divide to occur, while still making space to hope for a better future, even as it releases at a time in which his country has again fallen into civil war.

Kordofani’s masterful effort seems built to stand the test of time, not only because it acts as an effective piece of historical fiction from which to learn about Sudan’s past, one that is never boring and eminently accessible. More so, it is because its characters are so well-drawn that its potent humanity renders it effectively borderless. For people from across the world, in all walks of life, there is much to consider here, not only about the region, but about ourselves, and the ways in which we, no matter how far along we are, still have room for change. After all, the director implies, if I can do it, so can you. So can anyone.