Shannon Cotter looks to dysfunctional siblings in Element Pictures’ drama September Says.
September Says is an arresting, witchy debut by Ariane Labed, based on the 2020 novel Sisters by Daisy Johnson. Labed—well known for her acclaimed acting career and recipient of the prestigious Volpi Cup—showcases herself as a confident, careful director in her feature-length debut, focused on a pair of highly unusual sisters.
September Says opens with two young sisters, September (Sienna Rose Velikova) and July (Amelia Valentina Pankhania), standing in identical blue dresses, their faces painted white in a visual homage to The Shining. Leap forward a number of years, and the girls are still subjected to impromptu photoshoots by their kooky mother, Sheela (Rakhee Thakrar), the absurdity of these sessions matching the girls’ own eccentric lives. September (Pascale Kann) and July (Mia Tharia) form a strange sibling duo: they imitate animal noises while watching reality television, refuse to shave their armpits (a contentious topic among their classmates), and stand as social outcasts, unflinching in the face of cruel comments. More disturbingly, September watches out for July while simultaneously exerting total dominance over her.
“If I lost a leg, would you get yours amputated too?” she asks July repeatedly. “If I was kidnapped, would you offer to take my place?” The answer is always yes. You fear what would happen if July ever said the opposite.
September embodies the archetype of the irreverent rebel—utterly indifferent to societal expectations—while July longs to belong, though her overwhelming shyness and social isolation prevent her from doing so. When she begins texting a boy she likes, it throws a wrench into her relationship with September, who detests any form of normalcy.
September Says remains eerie and provocative throughout, with an ever-present sense of looming danger, propelled by Kahn’s dead-eyed stare and neutral voice. Though fiercely protective of July, September repeatedly pushes her towards perilous dares, forcing her to chug bottles of alcohol and teeter on the edge of self-harm. We are never sure what September will do next—and that unpredictability is what makes her so thrilling. Will she come to July’s rescue? Will her jealousy of July’s newfound relationships overwhelm her? Will she end the film by killing everyone? Kahn’s positively sociopathic portrayal makes this feel like a real possibility.
July’s journey is even harder to watch—a blooming flower choked by the nettles of September’s suffocating control. Socially anxious and near mute in public, she yearns for connection, gazing longingly at her classmates while simultaneously allowing herself to be completely alienated, a more subdued yet equally tragic mirror of September’s defiance.
Midway through the film, an unseen incident shifts the story’s course. Their mother, Sheela—Thakrar’s comedic prowess once again evident after Sex Education—struggles to adjust to their new life. In contrast to her daughters, she is bubbly, bright, and a little eccentric but ultimately well-meaning, making us wonder where the girls’ social ineptitude originates. One particularly cold-hearted moment sees her dismiss an attendee’s comment that September is “beautiful,” quipping, “otherwise, she’ll believe it.” Sheela laughs it off as a joke, but it’s easy to see how remarks like these could have sown the seeds of September’s deep resentment.
The scenes set in Ireland are bathed in muted colours, with odd, unsettling backgrounds. The family is trapped in a house overflowing with boxes and strange trinkets, blurring the film’s modernity with a peculiar sense of timelessness under Labed’s direction. The dynamic between the sisters has shifted, and the camera reflects this change—clinging to the girls in suffocating close-ups or remaining static, trapping us within September’s control. Balthazar Lab’s cinematography, coupled with the film’s grey tones, creates an unsettling, detached atmosphere that makes it impossible to look away from the girls’ impending fate.
The third act unfolds in a way that lacks foreshadowing, yet Labed’s debut is so haunting and assured—packed with eerie imagery and unsettling performances—that it’s entirely possible we’re witnessing the birth of a future classic.
In cinemas 21st February 2025.
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