Mohamed Kordofani’s debut Sudanese feature film, Goodbye Julia, has turned out to be one of the biggest hits of 2023 in the Middle East. It has been declared the most successful Arab film in Egyptian box office history. 

Its popularity is not tough to understand. Kordofani gives a human face to the contentious politics of the region, telling the story of the conflict between North and South Sudan through two women from the respective regions—Mona (Eiman Yousif) and Julia (Siran Riak)—who connect and form a strong bond despite the differences, divides, and hostilities, confide in and encourage one another and find their individual liberation in each other’s company.

Set in Khartoum, the film spans the period between 2005 and 2010, leading up to the separation of South Sudan from the once-united Sudan. Mona is a rich Northern Sudanese housewife who has given up her passion—music—at the behest of her nice but conservative husband Akram (Nazar Gomaa). Unintentionally causing the death of a Southern man—Santino Mabior—she tries atoning her guilt by employing his widow Julia and going all out to provide her and her son Daniel access to education and a good life in every way possible. But the past has a way of catching up with the present. The strife on the streets eventually ends up reaching home, creating rifts in their relationships. The division of the country leads to an unfortunate partition of people’s hearts as well. Is there space for reconciliation in this scenario marred by secrets, lies and betrayals?

While being a Northern Sudanese himself, Kordofani addresses the testy issues of racism and discrimination against the Southerners that eventually led to the secession, with an overwhelming majority of the Southerners opting for separation in the referendum. Kordofani turns the political into the individual, focusing on the familial and societal. The film is well-written, simply told, and backed by a strong ensemble. It is deeply committed to the ideology of compassion while having the audience engaged and emotionally invested in the characters, their relationships, and dilemmas.

The scenes of bigotry and othering would resonate with issues from any corner of the world at any point in time. We are shown how the Southerners are called savages and slaves as resentment against them builds among the Northerners. Haven’t we seen such scenes play out in other contexts elsewhere too?

Kordofani also casts a gaze on the seemingly benign and benevolent marginalization of women by supposedly nice men, and how they get oppressed in the name of love. In a moving chat with Julia, Mona talks about reconciling with such manifestations of patriarchy, giving up on love; that just the company of a good man is enough for her. But towards the end we also find her resolved in speaking without any fear and without resorting to lies so that she is heard loud and clear, without being judged.

Kordofani throws truth bombs at the viewers through several conversations spread across the film. Like in a scene where Mona argues with Akram about the Prophet mandating all humans as equals. He, in turn, states that she is very much part of the society she calls racist and points out her own hypocrisies—keeping separate utensils for the Southerners, living in air-conditioned comfort while her maid gets stewed in the heat.

When Julia talks about taking her son to Egypt to show him the pyramids, Mona wonders why she wouldn’t take him to the hometown of Kodok with the war having stopped. To which Julia answers with simplicity and profundity: “The war never ends; tomorrow it’ll start again.” Best is a quip on a politician speaking against racism, while not having his own daughter marry a Southerner: “Politicians sell words to the buyers.” Touche!