Reel Review: Raging Grace (2023)

A beautiful, potent film about the immigrant experience, “Raging Grace” is a masterwork reflecting art’s ability to change hearts and minds.

The easy synopsis for the film Raging Grace is that you’re following Joy (played by Max Eigenmann), a single and undocumented immigrant Filipina mother working as a housekeeper and determined (and desperate) to build a safe place for her and her daughter to live in England.

Joy’s daughter, Grace (played by Jaeden Boadilla, just nominated in this role as Young British/Irish Performer of the Year by the London Critics’ Circle Awards 2024), has a penchant for what feels like malicious mischief. 

As the film unfolds, I prepare myself to go on an Orphan or Brightburn-esque journey with Grace. Her antics have an undertone of malice that kept me from shrugging them off as bids for her mother’s attention. I love it when my assumptions are wrong, and I’m taken in a completely different direction.

As a non-racialized (*cough* white) viewer, I fell for writer and director Paris Zarcilla’s misdirection, and this film is so much more than the simple overview offered above.

This is a sharp and well-crafted exploration of lingering colonial impacts, the dismissal of Indigenous and home country traditional cultures and practices, the fetishization of culture, and the consistently violent reality of the immigrant experience — both socially tolerable by the oppressive group (microaggressions, incorrect assumptions about intelligence and capability when English is an additional language) and criminal (grooming, sexual assault).

More on this directly from Zarcilla here.  

This film hit hard for me for a few reasons.

My dimensions of identity offer a unique vantage point on a film like Raging Grace.

I am a single mother. I can appreciate that aching desire to give your child a “better life,” whatever that looks like in your context. I can juggle bills and costs expertly, making sure my pennies go where I want them to while keeping the lights on to ensure my daughter’s needs are met.

I am also an immigrant. Yes, a white, English-speaking immigrant who moved within North America (United States to Canada). While there are certain experiences that would be inappropriate for me to assert I can appreciate (e.g., professional credentials from my home country not recognized, disgust for traditional foods and medicines), I do understand what it feels like to be away from the comfort of your home country and the intense legal realities of crossing borders.

Additionally, I “hide in plain sight.” When I don’t disclose my background, people assume I am Canadian. It is really amazing (sarcasm, folks) what I have heard people say and seen people do to non-Canadians, especially those who are racialized*.

The microaggressions that Zarcilla offers in Raging Grace are in no way exaggerated.

In fact, they should offer an important reminder that discourse around equity, diversity, and inclusion is increasingly embraced. There are so many circles where it is simply not a priority or is disregarded entirely.

“Why do you people always do this?” 

“Oh, you must be the new cleaner.” 

“Now, we eat simply in this house. Nothing exotic.” 

“Everything stinks of coriander.” 

“This is your place of work, not your home.” 

“You should have just stuck to cleaning toilets and wiping his ass. Isn’t that what you people are good for?” 

Now, I would be remiss by not articulating how absolutely terrifying Mr. Garrett (David Hayman) is as a villain.

One of the first interactions we witness between Mr. Garrett and Joy is a discussion about cock fighting. Mr. Garrett has some lived experience with and an unhealthy affinity (can I assert fetish?) for Filipino culture. 

“But you know, they lead very pampered lives. They can roam free and play. They’re very obedient creatures if you know how to train them. They were very lucky outside the ring.” 

“But they die in the ring.” 

“Oh, nothing is wasted. If a chicken dies in a match, you can buy it and have it for your dinner that very night.”  

Rarely are we offered such a competent Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf sequence. Because it is not clear when the Wolf will strike, and will he strike Joy? Or Grace? Or both? I will not stoop to Mr. Garrett’s level of calculated cruelty with spoilers. 

“He cares about us. He loves us.” 

“Oh, Grace, Mr. Garrett doesn’t love us. He wants to own us.” 

Raging Grace, like all microaggressions, demonstrates the old adage, “It’s not what you say; it’s how you say it.”

Zarcilla’s how is most definitely worth the watch. Especially for Joy’s closing monologue.

Because in film, you can create the space to say all the things you want to say to those holding the power and privilege. You can also honor the strength and beauty of your history and culture and introduce it in ways that feel authentic (e.g., weave Tinikling folk dance sounds into the film’s score and share how traditional herbs and medicine are used).

And when the art is well done, as it is in Raging Grace, you might find a few willing to listen and maybe even act differently in the future — slowly but surely decolonizing our ways of knowing, being, and relating in ways that mean the Joys and Graces in our communities are welcomed as peers and can feel safe to share those strengths generously.