Like any good sci-fi film, Sofia Alaoui’s Animalia isn’t just the story of an alien invasion.  No, much like The Day The Earth Stood Still or Invasion of the Body Snatchers here, the story is deepened by its rich, thoughtful subtext.  By the end of the film, the journey of the main character Itto (Oumaima Barid) has touched on such topics as religion and its limitations, classism and its many ills, and above all, the interconnectedness of every living thing. In the hands of a lesser director, these heady topics would bog down the movie and render it a pretentious mess. But here Alaoui has crafted a film that remains remarkably light on its feet, constantly propelling the central character and the plot forward while raising questions that will gnaw at you long after the credits roll.

Animalia is set in Morocco, where we first meet Itto, a devoutly religious, heavily pregnant woman who lives with her husband Amine (Mehdi Dehbi) in an opulent estate with his family.  The opening shots immediately establish the class divide, with the cooks laughing in the kitchen as they prepare meals for the affluent household.  The vibe is very much that of a North African Upstairs, Downstairs.  “Upstairs,” Amine is talking to his family about a deal that will make them richer.  There’s a deliberate humor here, Alaoui highlighting the ridiculousness of these rich people trying to get richer by showing us the family eating at a dining table in the middle of a huge, gaudy dining room (slash ballroom?). Through her body language—a stolen glance at the in-laws here and there—Barid communicates Itto’s discomfort with this lifestyle.  She confirms this later when she describes herself as a “hick” to Amine, complaining that his mother had wanted him to marry a rich girl. 

When Amine is called away on business, Itto finds herself alone in the house, and takes full advantage of it, putting her flip-flopped feet up on the couch and looking at memes as upbeat music plays on the soundtrack.  If she slid across the floor in socks ala Tom Cruise in Risky Business, she couldn’t be more relaxed.  Here is where the omens begin however.  The color palette of the film becomes darker, bluer, replacing the golden hues of the opening scenes. A greenish light parts the clouds, and the various animals become uneasy—frogs jumping out of the water, etc.  Much of the film then consists of Itto’s traveling to be with her husband, seeking help from local villager Fouad (Fouad Oughaou) and from unexpected allies along the way. 

With the exception of some voiceover narration toward the end that runs the risk of overexplaining, this is largely an exercise in mood and tone.  Even the alien invasion itself is never fully visualized or explained.  Don’t expect to see any little green men running around.  Indeed, the alien invasion is an excuse to explore the movie’s themes.  Even the few concrete facts that we do learn about the aliens are in service of the same. 

During Itto’s travels, she’s joined by various animal companions in short succession, implying a connectedness between creatures and in nature.  First she meets a street dog, who keeps her company in her hotel room and protects her from disturbed men who try to accost her in the street.  In a touching image, as she rides away from town on a tricycle cart with Fouad, the dog almost literally hands the baton off to a black and white bird. We watch as the dog runs after Itto, briefly catching the bird in its mouth before releasing it, and the camera shifts to follow the bird as it flies after Itto.  This relay race continues throughout the film, with recurring images of animals congregating near her, following her. This is definitely a movie made by an animal lover.  (In other words, don’t worry—there are no scenes of violence against animals here.)

The visuals throughout the film are lovely, subtly amplifying the film’s themes.  At one point, Itto and Fouad enter a mysterious fog.  The scene shifts into a garbled, staccato slo-mo, suggesting that the space-time continuum is being distorted. Various hallucinatory images flit in and out on the screen, Amine at one point seeing a vision of her husband sitting with his family. After they leave the fog, a young boy, who claims to be 7 yet looks much older and smiles creepily at her (and may or may not be the current embodiment of her animal companions), informs her that the physical world is based on a more complex one, that we’re all immersed in something that we can’t process, like fish in water.

Alaoui here begins to make the argument that our manmade divisions are artificial, that in the grand scheme of things, we are all more alike than we know.  This even extends to the aliens, whom some characters murmur may already be among us, though we may not be able to see them.  Further, the film’s mystical take is enhanced by its critique of modern religion, or more specifically, the constructs we’ve devised to separate each other.  

Later in the film, Itto is reunited with her husband Amine and his family, clearly changed by her journey.  Having traveled with Fouad and seen his strength of character, as well as their experience in the fog, Itto is wiser and more attuned with nature and herself.  At the military checkpoint, Amine tries to give Fouad money, and she gently discourages the former, knowing that the latter isn’t motivated by such petty concerns.  Itto here begins to voice her skepticism about religion to her husband, having come to the realization that religion is for the rich, that it’s a privilege that the poor can’t afford.

This is driven home by a tense sequence late in the film.  Having been dragged out of bed (or rather, out of couch) by her mother-in-law, Itto is forced to accompany her in-laws to a service at the mosque.  The preposterous idea of clinging to rituals in the face of an alien invasion and quite possibly the end of the world is almost laughable.  We see Itto and the family walking along a dingy city street, lined by the poor and the less fortunate, as the affluent crowd makes its way to the mosque.  As Amine and the men go inside, and Itto remains outside to pray with the women, the tension ratchets as the street-smart heroine pays attention to the signs around her: birds flying overhead, ants crawling on their scarves, and so on.  There’s a real feeling of danger in this scene, and you begin to share Itto’s palpable dread that something Very Bad is about to happen. This scene feels like a call to action, a neat summary of the film’s views.

Moments like these are what stick with you after the movie ends.  It’s not an actor’s movie—that is, you won’t remember this for any one performance or overwrought monologue.  Instead, you’ll likely remember the lyrical visuals, the dreamlike imagery. Various animals accompanying Itto. Eerie green lights in the clouds.  These help give the film a feeling of deep unease, of dread, yet are also, paradoxically, strangely reassuring and comforting.  By the time the movie’s over, both Itto and the audience will feel an odd sense of contentment, of knowledge that everything’s going to be okay. To Alaoui’s credit, this cautious, peaceful optimism manages to feel earned, validated both by the unexpected friends Itto made along the way and the many barriers she shattered in doing so.