‘Nobody’s Violence’ review: Denis Côté’s twisting thriller confronts profound questions of mortality | Reviews

Dir: Denis Côté. Canada. 2026. 118mins

Mira (Larissa Corriveau) leads such a marginal existence that she could be a ghost. Arriving in car parks or on doorsteps by appointment, she pulls on black gloves before handing over the chemical cocktail requested by those who have decided to end their own lives. She may be offering a form of freedom, but the question of whether this line of work is trapping her haunts Denis Côté’s latest genre-crossing drama.

Will appeal most to lovers of ambiguity and unpredictable cinema

What starts as an intense character study opens out to ask philosophical questions about mortality and our relationship with it, while incorporating a chilly and gripping thriller element. Premiering in competition at Locarno before heading on to Toronto at the start of what will likely become a vigorous festival run, Nobody’s Violence will appeal most to lovers of ambiguity and unpredictable cinema.

Mira’s initial opacity makes her intriguing. She shows minimal reactions to the deluge of emotions with which she is faced – from anger to gratitude and sadness – as she goes about her business as an angel of death for hire. Côté’s regular collaborator Corriveau, who previously worked with him on films including Mademoiselle Kenospia and Social Hygiene, lends Mira a fragility in a subtle performance that delicately conveys the ways in which her character’s line of work is taking its toll. Mira’s relationship with animals, including those belonging to those she has helped to die, also becomes an indicator of still waters running deep.

The wider cast, most of whom are only present for one scene, offer notable performances as Mira’s deliveries cross cultures and class lines. Côté’s loose approach sometimes allows the memories of those Mira visits flicker in, adding specificity and emotional depth. This dreamlike sensation is underscored by the cinematographer Vincen Biron’s (reteaming with Côté after Mademoiselle Kenopsia and Paul) employ of 16mm, which has a fuzzy, retro quality. Editor Terence Chotard’s jump cuts also speak to Mira’s unpredictable mental state.

Early scenes indicate that Mira’s life revolves almost entirely around death, which is why a chance encounter with one juvenile man stands out. She sees Pierric (Xavier Bergeron) dancing in the snow as though nobody is watching and is drawn to this juvenile man who is brimming with life and free-spiritedness. He says everyone calls him Flanagan and insists on naming her Cristal – a joke which opens up more earnest possibilities for Mira concerning her identity.

Hints of something more sinister come with Mira’s glimpsing of the same man in various places as she goes about her work. This begins to crystallise after she pays a visit to a immense well-appointed house in the forest, owned by Ludo (Philippe Rebbot). Here, Mira remains on the margins, unwilling to join in with a party Ludo is throwing, the celebrations starkly at odds with the line of work they are both in. Scenes at the house highlight Côté’s excellent grip of mood as he undercuts the apparently jovial proceedings with threat, and makes us reassess what we know about Mira as she is reassessing her own position. 

Tension doesn’t arrive in a rush in Côté’s films,rather gradually asserts itself until it’s breathing down your neck. It’s the filmmaker’s ability to deliver two apparently paradoxical moods simultaneously that makes his work distinctive, encapsulated in Nobody’s Violence by the marriage of creeping menace to moments of poignant revelation for Mira.