Julia Ducournau: The Life Story Behind France's Daring Horror Director
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Julia Ducournau is a French director who makes films that people cannot forget, even when they want to. Her films are about bodies, about hunger, about change, and about the strange line between human and animal, between love and violence. She made Raw, a film about a young woman who discovers a taste for flesh, and Titane, a film about a woman who becomes part machine, and both films shocked audiences at Cannes and won major prizes. She is the first woman to win the Palme d’Or alone for a single film, and she did it with a film that most directors would never dare to make.
Ducournau was born in Paris in 1983, to parents who were doctors, and she grew up in a home where the body was talked about in a scientific, matter-of-fact way. She studied at La Femis, the French film school, and she made short films before she made her first feature. Her work is not horror for the sake of shock. It is horror that asks questions about identity, about family, and about what it means to live in a body that changes, that hurts, and that wants things we do not understand.
Her story is the story of a director who found her voice early, who stayed true to it, and who became one of the most talked-about filmmakers in the world in a very short time. She has made only a few feature films, but each one has been an event, and each one has shown that she is willing to go where other directors will not go. This is the story of how a young woman from Paris became the most daring horror director in France.
There is a moment in Julia Ducournau’s films when the audience realises that the horror is not just on screen, but inside the characters, in their bodies, in their hunger, and in their need to be loved. That moment, when shock turns into feeling, is the signature of her work, and it is what separates her from directors who use horror only to scare. Ducournau uses horror to tell a human story, to talk about growing up, about family, and about the strange, painful, beautiful experience of living in a body that changes, that wants, and that hurts.
Growing Up in Paris With Doctors as Parents
Julia Ducournau was born on 18 November 1983 in Paris, and her parents were both doctors, a fact that has shaped her films in a deep and lasting way. Growing up in a home where medicine was discussed at the table, where the body was a subject of study and not a mystery, gave her a way of looking at flesh, at blood, and at the human form that is both clinical and poetic. She has said in interviews that she grew up around medical books and around talk of the body, and that this background made her less afraid of the body and more interested in it as a subject for film.
As a child, Ducournau was drawn to stories, to films, and to the idea of creating worlds. She was not a child who wanted to be a doctor, even though her parents were doctors. She wanted to tell stories, to make films, and to explore the strange and the dark sides of life that other children might avoid. Her parents supported her interest, and they gave her the freedom to pursue a career in film, even though it was very different from their own work.
Paris in the 1980s and 1990s was a city full of cinema, with film clubs, with festivals, and with a strong tradition of French directors who were willing to be bold. Ducournau grew up in that world, watching films, reading about them, and dreaming of making her own. She was a serious student, she worked hard, and she applied to La Femis, the most famous film school in France, where she was accepted to study screenwriting and directing.
Her childhood also gave her a sense of the body as something that is both familiar and strange. A doctor’s child learns early that the body can be opened, studied, and understood, but also that it can surprise, fail, and change in ways that are hard to predict. That tension, between knowledge and mystery, between the body as a machine and the body as a living thing, is at the heart of Ducournau’s films, and it is why her work feels both intelligent and unsettling.
The Paris of her youth was also a place of art, of music, and of new ideas, and Ducournau absorbed all of it. She was not a filmmaker who came from nowhere. She came from a city that loves cinema, from a family that loves science, and from a school that taught her how to turn an idea into a film. Those three influences, Paris, medicine, and film school, came together in her work, and they gave her a voice that was unlike anyone else’s.
La Femis and the Short Film Junior
Ducournau studied at La Femis in Paris, where she learned screenwriting and directing, and where she met other young filmmakers who would become her collaborators. La Femis is a demanding school, with small classes and high standards, and it gave her a strong technical foundation. She learned how to write a script, how to work with actors, how to shoot a scene, and how to edit a film so that it tells a story in the clearest and most powerful way.
While she was at La Femis, and in the years after she left, Ducournau made short films, including Junior, released in 2011, a film about a thirteen-year-old girl who begins to change in strange ways after a stomach bug. Junior is a short film, but it contains many of the themes that would return in Raw and Titane: a young woman’s body changing, a sense of being different, and a mix of horror and humour that is both disturbing and tender. The film was shown at festivals, it won attention, and it marked Ducournau as a director to watch.
Junior also showed her gift for working with young actors and for filming the body in a way that is both honest and unsettling. She did not use special effects to shock the audience. She used a simple story, a young girl, and a change that is both physical and emotional, to create a feeling of unease that stays with the viewer. That approach, telling a strange story in a realistic way, would become her signature.
The years at La Femis and the making of Junior were a period of learning and of finding a voice. Ducournau was not in a hurry. She took her time, she made short films, she wrote scripts, and she waited until she had a story that was strong enough to become a feature film. That patience paid off when she made Raw, a film that would change her career and make her famous around the world.
Her time at film school also taught her the importance of collaboration. A film is not made by one person alone. It is made by a writer, a director, a cinematographer, actors, and many others who work together to create a world. Ducournau learned to work with a team, to trust her collaborators, and to give them the freedom to bring their own ideas to a film. That collaborative spirit is visible in her films, which feel like the work of a group of people who share a vision.
Raw: A First Feature That Shocked Cannes
In 2016, Ducournau released her first feature film, Raw, known in French as Grave, a story about Justine, a sixteen-year-old vegetarian who goes to veterinary school and who, after a hazing ritual in which she is forced to eat raw meat, discovers a growing hunger for flesh. The film follows Justine as she tries to understand her new desire, as she falls in love, as she argues with her sister, and as she learns that her hunger is part of who she is. Raw is a horror film, but it is also a film about growing up, about sisterhood, and about the body changing in adolescence.
Raw was shown at the Cannes Film Festival in 2016, where it won the FIPRESCI prize, and it became a sensation. Audiences at screenings were reported to have fainted, to have felt sick, and to have been shocked by the film’s images, but they also praised its intelligence, its humour, and its emotional depth. The film was not just a shock. It was a coming-of-age story told through horror, and it showed that Ducournau could make a film that was both disturbing and deeply human.
The film starred Garance Marillier as Justine, in a remarkable performance that carried the whole film, and Ella Rumpf as her sister Alexia, who shares the same hunger and who becomes both a rival and a mirror for Justine. The two sisters are the heart of the film, and their relationship, with its love, its jealousy, and its shared secret, is what makes Raw more than a horror film. It is a film about family, about the things we inherit, and about the things we cannot control.
Raw was a success around the world, it won awards at festivals, and it made Ducournau a name that horror fans and art-house audiences both knew. The film proved that a first-time director could make a film that was bold, original, and successful, and it gave Ducournau the freedom to make her next film in her own way, without having to soften her vision to please a wider audience.
The success of Raw also showed that French horror could be intelligent, artistic, and personal. Ducournau did not make a film that copied American horror. She made a film that was French, that was about a young woman, and that used horror to talk about growing up. That originality is why Raw is still watched and discussed today, and why it remains one of the most important horror films of the last decade.
Titane and the Palme d’Or
In 2021, Ducournau released Titane, her second feature film, a story about Alexia, a woman who has a titanium plate in her head after a car accident as a child, who becomes a serial killer, and who, after a series of violent events, disguises herself as a missing boy and is taken in by a firefighter, Vincent, played by Vincent Lindon. The film is a strange, violent, tender, and deeply moving story about identity, about family, and about the need to be loved, even by people who do not understand who you are.
Titane won the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival in 2021, the highest prize at the festival, and Ducournau became the first woman to win the Palme d’Or alone for a single film, and only the second woman ever to win the prize. The win was a historic moment for Cannes, for French cinema, and for women directors around the world. The jury, led by Spike Lee, praised the film’s daring, its originality, and its emotional power, and the win made headlines around the world.
The film was divisive, as Ducournau’s films often are. Some viewers loved its boldness, its humour, and its tenderness, while others found its violence and its strange story hard to watch. But even its critics agreed that Titane was a film like no other, a film that could only have been made by Ducournau, and a film that showed a director at the height of her powers. The performances of Agathe Rousselle as Alexia and Vincent Lindon as Vincent were widely praised, and the film’s images, of metal, of flesh, of fire, and of dance, stayed with audiences long after they left the cinema.
Titane also confirmed Ducournau’s gift for mixing genres. The film is horror, it is science fiction, it is a family drama, and it is a love story, all at once, and it moves between those genres without ever settling into one. That freedom is part of what makes her work so exciting. She does not follow the rules of a genre. She uses the genre to tell a story that is personal, strange, and human.
The Palme d’Or win changed Ducournau’s career. She was now a director whose name was known around the world, and she had the freedom to make her next film with a larger budget and with more support. She used that freedom carefully, taking her time to find the next story that was worth telling.
Alpha and a Director Who Keeps Changing
In 2025, Ducournau released Alpha, her third feature film, a story set in the 1980s about a thirteen-year-old girl, Alpha, who comes home from school with a tattoo and who is feared to have a new virus that is spreading through the world. The film follows Alpha, her mother, and her uncle, a drug user, as they navigate a time of fear, of stigma, and of family love. Alpha was shown at Cannes in 2025, where it was praised for its emotional depth, its performances, and its return to a more intimate, family story after the wild energy of Titane.
Alpha showed a different side of Ducournau. The film is still about the body, about change, and about fear, but it is quieter, more tender, and more focused on a family than her earlier films. It showed that she could make a film about a young girl and her mother that was both strange and deeply moving, without relying on the shock of Raw or Titane. The film’s reception was more mixed than Titane’s, with some critics praising its heart and others finding it less bold, but it confirmed that Ducournau is a director who is willing to change, to try new things, and to tell different kinds of stories.
The film also showed her gift for working with young actors, with a cast led by Melissa Boros as Alpha and Tahar Rahim as her uncle, and it showed her ability to create a world, the 1980s, with a strong sense of place and time. Alpha is a film about a specific moment, the fear of a new disease, and about the way that fear affects families, and it is a film that feels both personal and universal.
Ducournau’s career, from Junior to Alpha, shows a director who is still growing, still learning, and still willing to take risks. She has made only three feature films, but each one has been different, each one has been bold, and each one has added to her reputation as one of the most original filmmakers working today. Her next film, whatever it is, will be watched with great interest by audiences around the world.
The years after Titane have also brought Ducournau more attention, more offers, and more pressure, but she has handled that pressure by taking her time, by choosing her projects carefully, and by staying true to her vision. She is not a director who makes a film every year. She is a director who makes a film when she has a story to tell, and that patience is part of what makes her work so strong.
Style: Bodies, Blood, and Tender Horror
Ducournau’s style is built around the body. Her films show flesh, blood, and change in a way that is both clinical and poetic, and they use the body as a way of talking about identity, about desire, and about the experience of being human. She films the body with a camera that is close, that does not look away, and that finds beauty in things that other directors might find ugly or frightening. That approach is unsettling, but it is also honest, and it is why her films feel so powerful.
Her films also mix horror with humour, with tenderness, and with a deep sense of family. Raw is a horror film, but it is also a film about sisters. Titane is a horror film, but it is also a film about a father and a son, about a woman who wants to be loved. Alpha is a film about a virus, but it is also a film about a mother and a daughter. That mix is what makes her work different from other horror films. She does not use horror to scare the audience for its own sake. She uses horror to tell a human story, and the horror makes the human story feel more real.
Ducournau works with a team of collaborators who share her vision, including cinematographers, composers, and actors who understand her way of working. Her films are carefully planned, with a strong script, with detailed production design, and with a visual style that is both realistic and strange. The world of her films feels like our world, but with something slightly off, something that makes the audience feel uneasy even in a normal scene. That feeling is the mark of a great horror director.
Her style has influenced other directors, and it has helped to change the way horror is seen in France and around the world. She has shown that horror can be art, that it can be personal, and that it can be made by a woman who tells stories about women’s bodies and women’s lives. That is a significant achievement, and it is why her films are studied in film schools and discussed by critics.
The style is also a reflection of her background as a doctor’s daughter. She looks at the body with a scientist’s eye, but she films it with an artist’s heart, and that combination gives her work a unique power. Her films are not easy to watch, but they are hard to forget, and that is the highest praise for a horror director.
Legacy of a Bold New Voice
Julia Ducournau’s legacy is still being written, because she is still young and still making films, but it is already clear that she has changed French cinema. She has shown that a woman director can make horror films that are bold, original, and successful, and she has shown that horror can be a way of talking about growing up, about family, and about identity. Her Palme d’Or win for Titane was a historic moment, and it opened doors for other women directors who want to make films that are daring and different.
Her legacy is also the films themselves. Raw and Titane are already regarded as classics of modern horror, and they are films that will be watched for many years. They are films that challenge the audience, that shock the audience, and that move the audience, all at once, and that is a rare combination. Ducournau has made films that are both art and entertainment, both horror and human drama, and that is why they matter.
For younger directors, Ducournau offers a lesson in courage. She teaches that a director should make the film she wants to make, even if it is strange, even if it is shocking, and even if it is hard to sell. She teaches that a personal vision is more important than following a trend, and that a film that is true to its maker will find its audience, even if it takes time. That lesson is inspiring, and it is one that many young filmmakers have taken to heart.
For audiences, Ducournau’s films are a reminder that horror can be more than jump scares and monsters. It can be a way of understanding the body, of understanding change, and of understanding what it means to be human. Her films ask us to look at things we might prefer to ignore, and they reward us with stories that are tender, strange, and unforgettable. That is the legacy of Julia Ducournau, and it is a legacy that will grow with each new film she makes.
Horror as a Coming-of-Age Story
Julia Ducournau’s films are often described as horror, and they are, but they are also coming-of-age stories, films about young people who are discovering who they are, what they want, and what they are capable of. Raw is about a sixteen-year-old girl who goes to veterinary school and who discovers a hunger she does not understand, a hunger that is both literal and metaphorical, a hunger for flesh, for love, and for a life of her own. Titane is about a woman who has lived with metal in her head since childhood, who has never felt at home in her body, and who finds a new family in a man who mistakes her for his missing son. Alpha is about a thirteen-year-old girl who is feared to have a virus, and who must navigate a world of fear, of stigma, and of family love.
In each film, horror is a way of talking about adolescence, about the body changing, about the confusion of growing up, and about the feeling of being different. A teenager’s body changes in ways that feel strange, frightening, and out of control, and Ducournau takes that feeling and makes it literal, with flesh, with blood, and with transformation. That is why her films feel so true, even when they are fantastical, because they capture a feeling that every young person has had, the feeling that their body is not quite their own, that it wants things they do not understand, and that it is changing in ways they cannot stop.
That approach also makes her films different from other horror films, which often use horror to punish young people, especially young women, for their desires. Ducournau does not punish her characters. She follows them, she understands them, and she lets them be both monstrous and human, both frightening and lovable. Justine in Raw is not a monster. She is a girl who is hungry, who is lonely, and who is trying to understand herself. Alexia in Titane is not a monster. She is a woman who wants to be loved, who wants a family, and who finds it in an unexpected place.
The coming-of-age story in Ducournau’s films is also a story about family, about sisters, about fathers, and about mothers, and about the bonds that hold a family together even when its members are strange, violent, or difficult. Raw is about two sisters who share a secret, Titane is about a father and a son who are not really father and son, and Alpha is about a mother, a daughter, and an uncle who try to care for each other in a time of fear. That focus on family gives the horror a heart, and it is why her films are moving as well as shocking.
In the end, Ducournau’s horror is a horror of the body, of change, and of growing up, and it is a horror that is both personal and universal. It is personal because it comes from her own experience as a doctor’s daughter, from her own interest in the body, and from her own imagination. It is universal because every person has lived in a body that changes, that hurts, and that wants, and every person has felt, at some point, like a stranger in their own skin. That is why her films matter, and why they will be remembered.
My Take:
When I think about Julia Ducournau, the first feeling I have is shock, and then, after the shock, a deep respect. Her films are not easy to watch. Raw made me feel uncomfortable, Titane made me feel confused and moved at the same time, and Alpha made me think about fear in a new way. But I keep thinking about her films long after I have seen them, and that is the sign of a director who matters. A film that you forget the next day is not a great film. A film that stays with you, that makes you argue with yourself, that makes you feel things you did not expect, is a great film, and Ducournau makes those kinds of films.
I admire her courage more than anything else. It takes courage to make a film about a young woman who eats flesh, and it takes even more courage to make a film about a woman who becomes part machine and who pretends to be a missing boy. Most directors would never try those stories, because they are too strange, too risky, and too likely to upset people. Ducournau tried them, and she made them work, not by softening them, but by filming them with honesty and with heart. That courage is inspiring, and it is why I think she is one of the most important directors working today.
I also think about her background as a doctor’s daughter, and how that shapes her films. She grew up around talk of the body, around medical books, and around a way of looking at flesh that is both scientific and human. That background gives her films a unique feeling. She does not film the body as a mystery or as a thing to be feared. She films it as a real thing, with blood, with pain, with change, and with beauty. That honesty is rare in cinema, where the body is often filmed as a perfect thing, or as a thing to be hidden. Ducournau shows the body as it is, and that is a brave choice.
Raw is the film that introduced me to her work, and I still think about Justine, the young vegetarian who discovers a hunger she does not understand. The film is about growing up, about the body changing, and about the confusion of adolescence, and it uses horror to tell that story in a way that a normal coming-of-age film could not. When I watched Raw, I felt the hunger, the fear, and the loneliness of being a teenager who does not fit in, and I thought about how hard it is to be young and to feel different. That is the power of horror when it is done well. It does not just scare you. It makes you feel.
Titane is a harder film to love, and I want to be honest about that. The story is strange, the violence is shocking, and the film does not give the audience easy answers. But I also think Titane is a film about love, about a woman who wants to be accepted, and about a man who wants a son back, and who finds a new kind of family in a person he does not understand. The scene where Vincent dances with Alexia, the scene where they hold each other, those moments are tender in a way that I did not expect from a horror film, and they stayed with me. I think that tenderness is the heart of Titane, and it is what makes the film more than a shock.
I think about the Palme d’Or win, too, and what it meant. Ducournau was the first woman to win the Palme d’Or alone, and that is a historic achievement. It matters because Cannes is the most important film festival in the world, and because women directors have been overlooked for so long. Her win was not just a prize for one film. It was a message to young women directors everywhere that their stories matter, that their films can win the biggest prizes, and that they do not have to make safe films to be taken seriously. I am glad she won, and I think the win was deserved.
Alpha is a film that showed me a different side of Ducournau, a quieter, more tender side. The story of a girl, a mother, and an uncle, set in the 1980s, with a fear of a new virus, felt personal and human in a way that Titane did not. I liked that she was willing to make a smaller, more intimate film after the huge success of Titane, and that she did not try to repeat the shock. That willingness to change, to try something new, is a sign of a director who is still growing, and I respect it.
If I have a criticism, it is that her films can be hard to watch, and that some viewers will not be able to get past the violence and the strangeness to see the heart underneath. I understand that, because I have felt it myself. There were moments in Raw and in Titane when I wanted to look away, when the images were too much, and when I wondered if the shock was necessary. But I also think the shock is part of the point. Ducournau is not shocking the audience for fun. She is using shock to make us feel, to make us think, and to make us look at things we would rather ignore. That is a valid choice, even if it is not for everyone.
I also think about the way Ducournau works with actors, especially with young actors and with women. Garance Marillier in Raw, Agathe Rousselle in Titane, and the young cast of Alpha all give performances that feel real, that feel lived in, and that carry the films. Ducournau has a gift for finding actors who can be vulnerable and strong at the same time, and for creating a safe space on set where they can take risks. That gift is part of her craft, and it is why her films feel so alive.
I think about the future, too, and what Ducournau will do next. She is still young, she has made only three feature films, and she has already won the Palme d’Or. That is a remarkable start, and it makes me curious about what she will do in the next ten or twenty years. Will she make more horror, or will she move to other genres, as she did with Alpha? Will she work in English, or will she stay in French? I do not know, but I am excited to find out, because I trust her vision, and I believe she will keep surprising us.
Another thing I take from her story is the value of a personal vision. Ducournau did not make films to please the market. She made films about the body, about hunger, about change, and about family, because those are the subjects that matter to her. She made them in her own way, with her own style, and she found an audience that was waiting for those films. That is a lesson for any artist: make the work that is true to you, and trust that the audience will find it. It is a simple lesson, but it is hard to follow, and Ducournau has followed it.
I also respect the way she has handled fame. After the Palme d’Or, she could have made a big Hollywood film, she could have taken a huge budget and made a safe blockbuster, but she took her time, she made Alpha, a smaller, more personal film, and she stayed true to her vision. That patience is admirable, and it shows that she is not chasing fame. She is chasing stories, and that is the right thing for a director to chase.
When I look at Ducournau’s whole career, from Junior to Alpha, I see a director who is still at the beginning, who has already achieved more than most directors achieve in a lifetime, and who still has much more to give. Her films are bold, they are strange, they are tender, and they are unforgettable. I will keep watching her work, I will keep thinking about it, and I will keep recommending it to anyone who wants to see what horror can be when it is made by a director who is not afraid to be different.
In the end, I think Julia Ducournau teaches us that the body is not something to be afraid of, that change is not something to be hidden, and that a film can be both shocking and tender at the same time. Her films are not for everyone, and they are not easy, but they are honest, they are original, and they are made with a courage that I admire deeply. That is why I think she will be remembered as one of the great directors of her generation, and why I am glad I discovered her films.
I think about the body a lot when I think about Ducournau, because her films are about the body in a way that few films are. She does not film the body as a perfect thing, or as a thing to be hidden. She films it as a real thing, with blood, with pain, with change, and with beauty, and that honesty is rare in cinema, where the body is often filmed as an ideal, or as a problem. Ducournau shows the body as it is, and that is a brave choice, and it is one that makes her films feel true.
Raw is the film that introduced me to her work, and I still think about Justine, the young vegetarian who discovers a hunger she does not understand. The film is about growing up, about the body changing, and about the confusion of adolescence, and it uses horror to tell that story in a way that a normal coming-of-age film could not. When I watched Raw, I felt the hunger, the fear, and the loneliness of being a teenager who does not fit in, and I thought about how hard it is to be young and to feel different. That is the power of horror when it is done well.
Titane is a harder film to love, and I want to be honest about that. The story is strange, the violence is shocking, and the film does not give the audience easy answers. But I also think Titane is a film about love, about a woman who wants to be accepted, and about a man who wants a son back, and who finds a new kind of family in a person he does not understand. The scenes where Vincent dances with Alexia, where they hold each other, those moments are tender in a way I did not expect, and they stayed with me.
I think about the Palme d’Or win, too, and what it meant for women directors. Ducournau was the first woman to win the Palme d’Or alone, and that is a historic achievement. It matters because Cannes is the most important film festival in the world, and because women directors have been overlooked for so long. Her win was not just a prize for one film. It was a message to young women directors everywhere that their stories matter, that their films can win the biggest prizes, and that they do not have to make safe films to be taken seriously.
Alpha showed me a different side of Ducournau, a quieter, more tender side, and I liked that she was willing to make a smaller, more intimate film after the huge success of Titane, rather than trying to repeat the shock. That willingness to change, to try something new, is a sign of a director who is still growing, and I respect it. The story of a girl, a mother, and an uncle, set in the 1980s, felt personal and human in a way that Titane did not, and it showed that Ducournau can tell a story about fear and family without relying on shock.
If I have a criticism, it is that her films can be hard to watch, and that some viewers will not be able to get past the violence and the strangeness to see the heart underneath. I understand that, because I have felt it myself, when the images were too much and I wanted to look away. But I also think the shock is part of the point. Ducournau is not shocking the audience for fun. She is using shock to make us feel, to make us think, and to make us look at things we would rather ignore. That is a valid choice, even if it is not for everyone.
I also think about the way Ducournau works with actors, especially with young actors and with women, and how she gives them performances that feel real, that feel lived in, and that carry the films. Garance Marillier in Raw, Agathe Rousselle in Titane, and the young cast of Alpha all give performances that are vulnerable and strong at the same time, and Ducournau has a gift for finding actors who can be both. That gift is part of her craft, and it is why her films feel so alive.
Finally, I think about the future, and what Ducournau will do next. She is still young, she has made only three feature films, and she has already won the Palme d’Or. That is a remarkable start, and it makes me curious about what she will do in the next ten or twenty years. I do not know, but I am excited to find out, because I trust her vision, and I believe she will keep surprising us, keep challenging us, and keep making films that are bold, strange, tender, and unforgettable.
Frequently Asked Questions
When was Julia Ducournau born and what did her parents do?
Julia Ducournau was born on 18 November 1983 in Paris. Her parents were both doctors, and growing up around medical talk about the body shaped the way she films flesh and change in her work.
What was Julia Ducournau’s first feature film?
Her first feature film was Raw, released in 2016, about a vegetarian student at veterinary school who discovers a hunger for flesh. The film won the FIPRESCI prize at Cannes.
What is Titane about and what prize did it win?
Titane, released in 2021, tells the story of Alexia, a woman with a titanium plate in her head who disguises herself as a missing boy and is taken in by a firefighter. The film won the Palme d’Or at Cannes.
Why is Ducournau’s Palme d’Or win historic?
She became the first woman to win the Palme d’Or alone for a single film, and only the second woman ever to win the prize. The win was a major moment for women directors at Cannes.
What is Alpha about?
Alpha, released in 2025, is set in the 1980s and follows a thirteen-year-old girl who comes home with a tattoo and is feared to have a new virus, and her mother and uncle as they face fear and family love.
What is Junior?
Junior is a short film Ducournau made in 2011, about a thirteen-year-old girl whose body begins to change in strange ways. The film contains many of the themes that later appeared in Raw and Titane.
