
‘Strawberries’
Courtesy of Lucky Number
Loosely adapted from Octave Mirbeau’s Decadent novel, and transformed farcically as only filmmaker Radu Jude can, “The Diary of a Chambermaid” is yet another socioeconomic economic satire from a Romanian artist whose veins practically pulse with the stuff. At a mere 94 minutes in length, its meandering, meta-textual appearance might seem like a misfire at first, but it disguises what might be Jude’s most slyly character-focused work, culminating in a completely unexpected emotional gut punch.
No foreknowledge of Mirbeau’s late 19th century landmark is required, since Jude works a slapstick version of it into his Paris-set text. Bit by bit, the story’s most salacious scenes are re-enacted on stage by Gianina (Ana Dumitrașcu), who is very much not an actress, but rather a migrant maid from Romania, hired for this amateur production at the behest of her employers. Like the original’s Célestine, she cooks and cleans for an upper class couple, the Donnadieus, with whom she lives. The similarities to the book end there — at least on the surface.
As Jude gradually peels back the layers of this central dynamic, he channels Mirbeau’s anarchist spirit and his skewering of capitalist hierarchies as a modern slavery, a theme he makes all but explicit through coy reflections on France’s own past, and its involvement in the transatlantic slave trade. Most of Jude’s movies are fairly on-the-nose about what they have to say, but “Chambermaid” is surprisingly subdued, relegating these comparisons to fleeting shots of Parisian architecture that hide historical horrors, or blink-and-you’ll-miss-it racist trinkets around the Donnadieu household.
The movie’s plot is an intentional plateau, adapting the novel’s diaristic structure in the form of occasional video messages and FaceTime calls between Gianina and her nine-year-old daughter living with grandma back in Romania. The story, now a video epistolary, begins in autumn, as blank screens marked only with dates abruptly interrupt numerous scenes — some of these cuts are funny in and of themselves — marking both the passage of time, and the proximity of Gianina’s eventual Christmas trip home. Nothing in particular happens, beyond Gianina raising the Donnadieus’ son and drawing the jealousy of her daughter in turn, but this turns Jude’s narrative into an anxious waiting game, as we start to anticipate what economic hurdles might inevitably prevent Gianina’s long-awaited return.
The couple themselves — Marguerite (Mélanie Thierry) and Pierre Donnadieu (Vincent Macaigne) — are, for the most part, personable, but their generosity disguises a cultural condescension. Jude’s continuing puncturing of the modern, pseudo-intellectual liberal finds an especially apt home at the couple’s social gatherings, to which Gianina plays host and becomes a topic of conversation, as guests attempt to force political opinions out of her as she pours them wine. Although she presents herself as apolitical — an obedient, unobtrusive member of the servant class — she’s far from un-opinionated on her aforementioned calls, and lets some amusing epithets fly.
As expected, Jude largely presents his vignettes at an observational distance, barring, of course, the FaceTime conversations. However, this dueling visual approach is more cohesive than you might expect, owing to his lo-fi video aesthetic, which ensures that even ostensibly “objective” scenes (which is to say, more traditionally staged drama) feel immediately at one with the video calls. The world is digital now, and Jude uses this texture as a constant reminder of where Gianina’s attention truly lies: with her own family, back home.
The close-up nature of these calls ensures that the relationship between Gianina and her daughter — who’s increasingly upset by her mother’s absence — becomes a moral compass of sorts. Where Jude’s recent films, like “Dracula” and “Kontinental ’25,” used voiceover and wider social media environments to re-enforce themes, “Chambermaid” features an uncharacteristic elegance from the gonzo satirist, who makes his characters’ struggles for dignity his north star.
For a while, the movie’s major downside appears to be the extended stage sections, which re-create the novel’s sexual provocations for a laugh, and initially feel like Jude ensuring that every element of Mirbeau’s text gets its due — even the more extraneous ones. However, these seemingly gaudy detours end up retrofitted to Jude’s larger point about power structures in modern Europe as well, when the camera eventually pulls back to focus on specifics of the production.
If you haven’t caught on by now, “The Diary of a Chambermaid” requires a little more patience than most of Jude’s filmography (yes, even his three-hour, A.I.-heavy “Dracula”), but its rewards aren’t just of the usual, intellectual sort. Nestled between the layers is a genuinely heartfelt story that blooms from beneath all the aesthetic and verbal vulgarity, thus making innate, and intuitive, his ongoing, ever-evolving manifesto on the state of things.
“The Diary of a Chambermaid” premiered at the 2026 Cannes Film Festival. It is currently seeking U.S. distribution.
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Promises of “the sweetest” turn into nightmares in Paris-based Moroccan auteur Laïla Marrakchi‘s new film Strawberries, whose original title, La más dulce, hints at just that hoped-for sweetness. The story is inspired by real-life cases of Moroccan women who travel to Spain for seasonal fruit-picking work. Their plan: to earn money with hard work in hot weather, which they can bring back to their families back home to improve their lives. Their reality: living conditions that leave a lot to be desired, less money than promised, modern-day exploitation and slavery, and even sexual harassment and prostitution.
Lucky Number is handling international sales for the title, which will world premiere in Cannes’ Un Certain Regard program on xxx.
Marrakchi, known for such features as Marock and Rock the Casbah and such TV series as French spy thriller The Bureau and Damien Chazelle’s The Eddy, co-wrote the script with Delphine Agut. Nisrin Erradi (Everybody Loves Touda, Adam), Hajar Graigaa, Hind Braik, Fatima Attif, Larbi Mohammed Ajbar and Itsaso Arana feature in the cast. The film was produced by Juliette Schrameck (Coward, Sentimental Value, The Worst Person in the World) via her production banner Lumen, along with Morocco’s Mont Fleuri Production, Spain’s Fasten Films and Belgium’s Mirage Films.
Marrakchi talked to THR about Strawberries, why she just had to make a film about Moroccan women working in Spanish fields to make their invisible heroism seen, and the echoes of #MeToo and neocolonialism of their experience.
What inspired you to make this film about a social and socio-economic issue that I didn’t have any real insight into before seeing Strawberries?
The first time I heard about this story was through a friend of mine who’s a journalist, specializing in problems related to migration. She wrote an article for The New York Times about these women. So, I went with her to Andalusia, and I discovered this crazy world and met some of the Moroccan women. I was really moved by these women who decide to leave Morocco and leave their families behind for money to have a better life in Morocco.
I was moved by these strong women. It’s difficult to leave any country for another country, even for three months or four months for work. And I was really impressed by them. After the three days that I spent with my friend, I decided to do more research and make a film about this situation.
We see horrible things, from bad living conditions and a lack of health support and these women not getting paid what they were promised, all the way to abuse and prostitution. Did you also hear from women who had better experiences?
I met lots of women working in the strawberry fields who had the experience of bad conditions and [abuse], but there were also some who went to Spain, had a good experience and went back to Morocco with money. They had the opportunity to have a better life in Morocco.
So, there are many stories, and they depend on the experience. My film tells this story, about the problems of harassment, of prostitution, and I try to show how difficult the work is and the conditions are. These women go there for a good reason, because they want to follow a dream, but then there is the reality of the work that no Spanish people want to do.

‘Strawberries’
Courtesy of Lucky Number
What can you tell us about the trial we see in the film? Is that based on any specific legal case?
There have been several trials, in which the workers, the pickers, tried to speak out about what’s happened in the greenhouses and in the fincas. But there is no good resolution, because people are afraid to speak out, and they step back because they [face] too much pressure, and this is a huge, huge industry.
For these Moroccan women, it’s difficult to speak up and speak out, because they can lose everything in Spain and in their [home] country. What I show in my film is really not simple at all. Speaking out is a privilege.
It’s a sad form of new colonialism. These women are coming from a background where this is the first time they leave Morocco. They have never traveled. They don’t have a higher education. Most of them come from the countryside. And it’s complicated when you don’t speak the language, when you don’t have the education, when you don’t have anything and you decide to leave your country to have a better life.
I am glad you mentioned the topic of language. I really felt the women’s struggles because I could neither understand them, nor the Spanish speakers without the subtitles. And I also felt how difficult it was for them to translate the different cultural and religious challenges they are confronted with…
Yes, it’s also a film about how your voice is sometimes [muted] or stolen. The translation can be tricky, because your words can be transformed, and you don’t have weapons to defend yourself, because they don’t have the education and the language [skills]. So, this is also a film about the relationship now between the Western world and the [Global] South. It’s about the racism and a lot of layers of other layers.
I enjoyed, but was surprised by, scenes where the women are joking and laughing together, which shows how they have a shared communal experience. Tell me a bit about why these scenes were key for you to include?
I love those. It’s really important to humanize these women. We live in the Western world and sometimes don’t realize that these people can love, can be funny and can be women [just like everybody else]. The big challenge of this film was for me not to make it all miserable. For me, it was really important to show these women, as real heroines and show the empowerment of these women. But they can also be cruel to each other. It’s not black and white.
Tell me how you chose the titles, “The Sweetest,” or Strawberries in English?
It’s like a tagline, a slogan. And I like the idea of playing with these two things – the thing that is very sweet is also hard at the same time. The dream of having a better life comes with the difficulty of the hard work.
Strawberries will give the world a chance to see your wonderful cast of actresses, who are known in Morocco but people elsewhere may still get to discover. How did you think about or approach featuring some of the Moroccan women you met in the film?
We used real pickers as extras in the film.
Is there anything else you would like to share?
I want to show these women who are often not visible. Through this film, I want to make them visible as strong women. It’s like an homage to these women, because they are so strong and amazing. They are like a rock. I was so impressed by the Moroccan women I met.
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It’s not an SNL closer unless there’s a Joke Swap. The time-honored Weekend Update tradition sees co-anchors Colin Jost and Michael Che trading jabs they wrote for each other. In no-holds-barred bits from the past, everything — and everyone — is game, including Jost’s wife, two-time Oscar-nominated actress Scarlett Johansson, and the late-nighter’s trusty steward himself, Lorne Michaels.
This time around, the casualty was not a person, so much as a prized possession: Jost’s “award-winning” hair. After trading provocative jokes (see the highlights below), Che goaded Jost into reading out a particularly offensive one — “Ye can make awful music, but still be right about Hitler.”
To make up for the risqué joke, Jost then read from the cue card that he would be “sacrificing” his signature coif. “That’s right: I’m shaving it off,” he promised. “Send in the barber!”
When a barber materialized from off screen with clippers and a black cape, Jost continued: “Jerome, make me unpretty!”
It was Che that held him back, as Jerome got closer to Jost’s head.
“You was really gonna do it?” Che questioned. “Man, you are the greatest comedian of all time.”
“I was so scared,” Jost admitted.
The swap — which mostly falls along the lines of making Jost appear racist and Che appear like a sexual predator — was off to an auspicious start when Jost was forced to comment on Michael B. Jordan’s Oscar win, saying that difference between a Black vampire and white vampire is that the former “sucks dry … the welfare state.”
Continuing on, Jost’s flailing ferry once again took center stage as he read out: “I have a beautiful ferry to give any Black person a one-way trip to the motherland.”
Meanwhile, Che was forced to comment on the controversies of the Michael biopic: “Michael Jackson did nothing wrong. He was right to molest all those kids,” he read out. “When I was 10 years old, Michael Jackson molested me and … gave me a fetish for middle-aged white women.” As an aside, Che clarified: “That is not why I have that.”
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In a lengthier sketch featuring a majority of the Saturday Night Live cast members, Will Ferrell portrayed an eccentric and mean-spirited high school theater instructor. And what’s better than a problematic teacher played by Ferrell? Two — the second of which is played by none other than Molly Shannon.
The two SNL classmates (both are alumni from the mid-90s through the early millennium) reunited in a winding bit that tracked the anxieties of the theater program’s students, who were fretting over the new cast list for the school production. The sketch is a resurrected one previously cut-for-time during Ferrell’s last hosting stint in 2019.
Featured player Jeremy Culhane, donning a felt hat, portrayed a student who recently booked a Cheerios commercial as a background actor — a role Ferrell’s teacher is clearly envious of. Meanwhile, Veronika Slowikowska featured as a nerdy student who often quipped “girl boner!” whenever discussing everything from Jacob Elordi’s latest project to Mikey Day’s TA character.
Among the funniest lines of the night was Ferrell’s character’s assertion that his “all white” take on The Color Purple was “brave,” despite detractors’ negative reactions.
After Kenan Thompson also briefly showed up as choreographer, wheeling out a protesting Sarah Sherman (whose character faced animosity from Ferrell’s for being in a wheelchair), and Marcello Hernández and Kam Patterson reunited their dynamic duo of nonchalant athletic high school boys, bursting through the door came Shannon.
She took center stage, dismissing claims her character was “too handsy” with the boys. Maintaining that her “tough as nails” yields results, she invited another featured player, Tommy Brennan, to demonstrate his highest vocal range. At this point, it becomes pretty easy to telegraph where the bit is going when she asks him to sing, but that doesn’t diminish the comedic return when Shannon pantomimes giving him a wedgie and cupping his crotch to get him to sing higher.
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