Goodbye Julia (2023)

Is self-defense always legitimate?

Mohamed Kordofani’s debut feature Goodbye Julia was selected as Sudan’s submission for Best International Feature Film at the Oscars after its screening at the Cannes Film Festival. The film centers on Mona, who accidentally causes a man’s death and tries to atone for her guilt by taking the dead man’s widow into her home as a maid. While Mona keeps the truth behind this “help” a secret, the film questions how the instinct for self-preservation and well-intentioned lies can evolve into devastating consequences.

The film tells a profound social story that takes precedence over technical form—a risky approach in narrative cinema, yet Goodbye Julia manages to build this with subtlety.

The year is 2005 in Sudan. We follow an Arab couple in Khartoum who are relatively well-off: businessman Akram and Mona, a former famous singer. The death of South Sudanese leader John Garang has thrown the streets into turmoil—noise, protests, and gunshots shape daily life in Khartoum. The group considered responsible for this unrest is the southern Black Sudanese community.

The socio-political divide between Sudan’s Arab-majority north and its Black African south becomes a large backdrop throughout the film. Racism, religion, class, and politics intertwine as the story unfolds through the vulnerabilities of its two female protagonists—Mona and Julia: poverty, parenthood struggles, marital pressures, and the moral dilemmas triggered by well-intentioned lies.

Sudan’s ethnic landscape reveals that, due to its size, natural resources, and particularly its oil wealth, the region has always attracted colonial powers. The Muslim Arab population lives predominantly in the north, while the south is home to African and mostly Christian communities. This division has long provided fertile ground for manipulation by foreign powers. Moreover, the Arab majority’s perception of themselves as “superior” and “more civilized” has led to the systemic devaluation and exploitation of southern Black Sudanese as cheap labor.

The security precautions in Mona and Akram’s household—iron gates and heavy locks—reflect this tension in daily life. After seeing their neighbor’s car set on fire during recent attacks, Akram buys a shotgun. Meanwhile, Mona is forced to suppress her longing for music because her husband forbids it. The couple, who had once separated, reunited only after Mona promised she would never sing again. As is common in patriarchal Muslim societies, women live under the total control of their husbands, from public dress codes to career choices.

One day, Mona goes out to listen to music in her car, but the concert she planned to attend is canceled. As she drives back, she listens to a lecture on vocal technique and hits a child on a curve. When she attempts to get out and check on him, she sees the child’s father running toward her. Panicking, she locks the car and flees. The father chases her on his motorcycle. When Mona calls Akram in distress, he orders her to come home immediately. Seeing the man behind her and assuming—without asking anything—that he is “a Southerner,” Akram fires the shotgun and kills him. The incident is then swept under the rug with the help of the police; the death of a southern Black man doesn’t even warrant an investigation.

The dead man’s wife Julia and their son Daniel live in a poor settlement on the outskirts of the city, like many southern families. With her husband gone, Julia tries to support herself by selling small goods at the market. Meanwhile, Mona is tormented by overwhelming guilt. She caused the accident, and it was her husband who killed the man chasing her. Unable to tell Akram the truth, she bribes the police to find Julia’s address and buys everything Julia sells at the market, paying far more than it is worth. Then she offers Julia a job as a domestic worker.

Julia and Daniel soon move into Mona’s home. Mona pays Julia a high salary, gets Daniel enrolled in a private school, and even helps Julia pursue her long-held dream of starting university. But the truth behind this generosity becomes an increasingly heavy web of lies. At university, Julia meets members of a separatist group advocating for South Sudan’s independence and develops a romantic bond with their leader, Ager. When Daniel one day recognizes the neighbor’s motorcycle, it becomes the first crack in the fragile balance.

Inevitably, the truth will come out. In the elections, South Sudan declares independence, prompting ethnic population movements between the two countries. When Akram learns what really happened, he leaves Mona. Mona then appears at Julia’s door with a suitcase in hand.

The film’s strongest aspect is how it creates space to reflect on the political and cultural realities of Sudan between 2005 and 2010. It illustrates how Arabs—often seen globally as “victims”—can easily resort to racism when they hold power. It reminds us that racism, claims of superiority, and the devaluation of the “other” are not exclusive to the West; they are patterns that can be reproduced by anyone in power. At the same time, the film portrays how women are systematically suppressed in patriarchal societies, with disturbing yet realistic clarity.

One point of criticism is that the film does not address the Western powers that played a major role in destabilizing Sudan. For some viewers, this omission leaves the film’s political context feeling incomplete.

The director’s cinematic choices are largely effective: long takes built with slow zoom-ins create tension and heighten emotional impact. The suspense in the first half stems especially from Mona’s ethical dilemmas. Akram’s sharp prejudices and condescending attitude toward Black Sudanese create the crack that will grow into a dangerous chain of lies.

Goodbye Julia powerfully symbolizes Sudan’s socio-political fragility through the relationship of two women. Kordofani constructs his characters in a nuanced way, balancing themes of racism, guilt, motherhood, and conscience without overshadowing the story. Pierre du Villiers’ cinematography enhances the film with its color palette, dusty streets, and shimmering cityscapes under the sun.

With a tone oscillating between melancholy and hope, the film shows how lies and mistrust can lead to destructive outcomes even when intentions are good. It is also an important step for Sudanese cinema in gaining international visibility.

Mohamed Kordofani, a Sudanese Arab working as an aviation engineer, successfully establishes a distinct cinematic vision in his directorial debut. Despite a few weaker moments in the script, strong performances and competent direction make the film valuable. Goodbye Julia is a powerful, sincere exploration of racism and the social position of women.