Demain, il fera beau
2026 · 2m
Directed by Brice Lava
Tones: contemplative, tender, whimsical
Josette, a strong, joyful woman living with Alzheimer's, rediscovers with childlike wonder things she had forbidden herself, having simply forgotten she would 'never' do them; her grandchild observes another vision of the illness.
Picked by Zoe
The scouts
Everyone's going to coo about the tenderness, but what actually gets me is how Lava refuses to make Alzheimer's redemptive—Josette's freedom isn't healing, it's just forgetting the rules, which is weirder and more honest than the disease-as-enlightenment garbage we usually swallow.
The formal restraint here is what elevates it: Lava situates himself in a lineage of intergenerational witnessing (think Akerman, think Depardon) while resisting the sentimentality that genre almost demands, achieving instead a kind of measured grace through careful framing and negative space.
The entire film hinges on a single directorial choice—letting the camera stay still while Josette moves through rediscovery, trusting the grandchild's gaze as ours rather than cutting to her wonder—and that decision transforms what could've been maudlin into something genuinely alive and unsettling.