Irregular migration and stymied deportation orders have long loomed over French politics, issues that were exploited in recent elections by a far rig
Irregular migration and stymied deportation orders have long loomed over French politics, issues that were exploited in recent elections by a far right eager to stoke fears.
Now an award-winning film is amplifying the voices of those who have long been shut out of the conversation: undocumented migrants themselves.
“It’s been quite fun,” said Abou Sangaré, who plays the lead role in L’Histoire de Souleymane, or Souleymane’s Story. “We’ve had tons of requests for interviews, from radio to television.”
The film, which casts Sangaré as a adolescent asylum seeker, unfolds at a frenetic pace as he races to cobble together an income as a delivery rider and prepare for a make-or-break interview to secure residency papers.
For Sangaré – who won best actor in the Cannes film festival’s Un Certain Regard competition for his performance – the film is a blend of fiction and his own reality; since arriving in France at the age of 16 from Guinea, he has lacked indefinite legal status, leaving him, like thousands of others in France, fighting deportation.
Sangaré’s life changed after he met the film-maker Boris Lojkine. After several auditions, the 23-year-old was cast as Souleymane, catapulting him from a life in the shadows to having his face splashed across movie posters at subway stations and bus stops across France.
L’Histoire de Souleyman director Boris Lojkine (left) with Abou Sangaré and his co-star Nina Meurisse at Cannes this year. Photograph: Stéphane Cardinale/Corbis/Getty Images
It also propelled him into the middle of the country’s heated debate on migration. Last week the film was screened at France’s national assembly, earning plaudits even after far-right politicians moaned about Sangaré being cast in the film and France’s interior minister, Bruno Retailleau, vowed to crack down on irregular migration and do more to expel those without indefinite legal status.
Leftwing politicians were swift to trumpet the film’s humanisation of an issue that has long hovered over French politics in an abstract way. “See this film and get others to see it so that all the Souleymanes, all the undocumented workers, all the Uberised delivery riders are finally recognised: regularised and salaried,” Danielle Simonnet of the New Popular Front wrote on social media after the screening. “Our humanity depends on it.”
Others pointed to Sangaré’s personal story to push back against the far-right’s efforts to link those facing deportation with crime, noting that less than 2% of the orders issued between 2019 and 2022 were linked to criminal convictions.
When he was cast in the film, Sangaré had an inkling that the role – and its connection to his own life – would have repercussions beyond the world of film. “From the minute I decided to speak up about this aspect of my life in public, I was really stressed and nervous,” he said. “It was complicated.”
Sangaré says ‘one of the goals of the film is to ask: what do we do with people that have spent years on French territory and haven’t been granted asylum?’ Photograph: Abaca Press/Alamy
He channelled the feelings into the film, aiming to depict the stress and anxiety that have long permeated all aspects of his life as he sought residency through a system that felt beyond his control. “It’s not something that you can obtain by hard work. They have to accept you for you to get your papers,” he said. “That’s the problem.”
The film shows Souleymane working day and night, hinting at a paradox playing out across France and much of Europe: even as many governments seek to curtail migration and push out those without papers, their labour has become a means of filling crucial gaps in sectors such as agriculture and construction.
“You wouldn’t see a French person waking up early to collect rubbish,” said Sangaré. “Someone needs to do these jobs. And the people who are willing aren’t asking for anything more than papers so that they can work.”
After arriving in France as a minor in 2017, Sangaré applied three times for residency. As he wrestled with rejection after rejection – eventually ending up with a deportation order – he studied at high school and trained as a car mechanic.
But despite being offered full-time employment at a garage, he has been unable to accept due to his lack of papers. “One of the goals of the film is to ask: what do we do with people that have spent years on French territory and haven’t been granted asylum?” Sangaré said. “These are people without papers but who work every day and contribute to the good of the country.”
Since the film’s premiere, Sangaré has been flooded with calls from people in the industry interested in working with him. The nod from Cannes and critical acclaim, however, may have helped to secure an even bigger prize: residency. He recently applied for the fourth time, this time at the invitation of the French government.
Securing status would be life-changing, said Sangaré. “When you’re without papers you’re always scared, always stressed. It’s impossible to walk freely in the streets or chase your dreams.”
He has little doubt about the first thing he will do if his application is successful: “I like cinema because it has allowed me to be seen. But for me, my dream, when I get my papers the first thing I will do is go to the garage that has spent three years trying to hire me as a mechanic. That’s who I want to work for.”
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