We Will Go

There is a specific kind of magic in the "unwanted road trip" subgenre, a cinematic tradition that usually involves a cramped vehicle, a questionable playlist, and a group of people who would rather be anywhere else than five inches away from each other. In Enya Baroux’s We Will Go (On ira), that familiar engine is running on a high-octane blend of French melancholia and sharp, modern wit. I caught this during a rainy Tuesday afternoon when the radiator in my apartment was making a sound like a dying harmonica, and honestly, the clatter of the onscreen family’s bickering was a welcome upgrade.

We’ve seen the "one last journey" plot before, but We Will Go feels distinctly like a product of our current moment. It’s a film that understands we are living in an era of hyper-connectivity where we’ve somehow lost the ability to actually talk to the person sitting in the passenger seat.

The Anchor and the Chaos

The film’s greatest strength lies in its casting, specifically the legendary Hélène Vincent as Marie. If you remember her from the 1988 classic Life is a Long Quiet River or her more recent, heartbreaking turns, you know she possesses a face that can tell a three-volume novel without saying a word. Here, she plays the matriarch with a mix of fading lucidity and razor-sharp observation. She isn't just an object to be moved from Point A to Point B; she is the gravitational pull holding the entire messy ensemble together.

Opposite her, Pierre Lottin (who has been quietly becoming one of the most interesting actors in French cinema since Les Tuche) plays Rudy with a frantic, desperate energy. Pierre Lottin has the face of a man who just lost a bet with God, and he leans into that frantic instability here. His chemistry with David Ayala (Bruno) and Juliette Gasquet (Anna) provides the film's friction. They feel like a real family—not the polished, TV-version of a family, but the kind that knows exactly which emotional buttons to press to cause the most structural damage.

A Debut with a View

Director Enya Baroux pulls double duty here, also appearing as "L'influenceuse." This bit of meta-casting is a clever nod to our current social media saturation. While the family is struggling with tangible, heavy issues of legacy and mortality, her character represents the vapid, filtered world that exists just outside the car window. It’s a risky move that could have felt like a "kids these days" cliché, but Baroux and co-writer Martin Darondeau handle it with enough humor to make it stick.

Visually, the film avoids the postcard-perfect version of France. Cinematographer Hugo Paturel opts for something more lived-in. The light feels authentic to a long day spent on the shoulder of a highway, and the score by Dom La Nena provides a whimsical, slightly folk-inspired heartbeat to the proceedings. There’s a scene involving a roadside stop and a lost map that shouldn't be this funny in a movie about aging, but the timing is so precise it reminded me of the best of Alexander Payne.

Why It Slipped Under the Radar

Released in the early months of 2025, We Will Go found itself in that difficult position many mid-budget European dramas face: it’s too small for the blockbuster-hungry multiplexes and perhaps a bit too "gentle" for the high-concept-obsessed streaming algorithms. It’s a film that rewards patience rather than clicks.

Interestingly, the film was produced by Bonne Pioche and Carnaval Productions, companies that usually have a keen eye for human-centric stories. It didn't have a massive TikTok marketing campaign or a "legacy sequel" hook to hang its hat on. Instead, it relies on the old-school power of a good script and actors who aren't afraid to look tired on camera. It’s a "hidden gem" in the truest sense—a film that didn't scream for attention but certainly deserves it now that the initial 2025 release cycle has cooled off.

The production itself was reportedly a tight-knit affair, with Baroux drawing on her own experiences navigating the complexities of a creative family (her father is the prolific actor/director Pascal Baroux). You can feel that intimacy in the frame. A minivan shouldn't feel this much like a pressure cooker, but Baroux manages to make the interior of the car feel as vast and as claustrophobic as the characters' shared history.

We Will Go doesn't reinvent the wheel, but it aligns it, balances it, and takes it for a very meaningful spin. It captures that specific, bittersweet realization that you can never truly go back home, but you can certainly make the drive interesting. If you’re looking for a film that values performance over pyrotechnics and heart over hashtags, seek this one out. It’s a lovely reminder that sometimes the best destination is just a little more time with the people who know your worst jokes.