28/03/2025 - French filmmaker Thomas Balmès’ latest documentary explores our willingness to accept death – with some help from a therapeutic horse

A horse standing in a white hospital corridor. A horse with a rider in the woods at night, adorned with multi-coloured lightbulbs. These scenes seem to come out of a David Lynch-esque nightmare or a magical-realist concoction. But in fact, we see them in prolific French director Thomas Balmès’ latest documentary, À demain sur la Lune, which has just world-premiered in CPH:DOX's DOX:AWARD competition.

The horse in question is named Peyo, and together with his trainer, he is “employed” in a palliative care hospital in Calais. There is no actual explanation as to how exactly he is helping the patients, but his presence certainly seems to improve their emotional state of mind. The one Balmès follows most closely is 39-year-old Amandine, a mother of two sons, diagnosed with terminal cancer and given up to a year to live.

Early in the film, vibrant and with a bright smile, Amandine tells us she is actually happy: she has time to focus on her children and the things she likes doing. But while she has clearly accepted her destiny, her husband is in an almost aggressive denial, which we gather from their extensive and painful conversations with the medical staff and the psychologist.

So, as the main protagonist of the film is physically functional, she takes the kids to school and to the playground, easing her pain with over-the-counter drugs and her mind with CBD joints. These segments are interspersed with old home videos of her playing with her sister, peppering the film with the nostalgia of a life well lived.

In the meantime, we meet other patients who have reconciled with their impending demise. An old lady, who has a particularly palpable relationship with Peyo, seems to be mostly concerned about the playlist for her funeral. However, a standout in the film is a gentleman who is radiantly happy that his sister has finally accepted his wish for euthanasia and says goodbye to the doctor as if they're going to meet again in the near future – it's his line that lends the title to the film.  

This is definitely an unorthodox documentary that explores our willingness to accept death, at least in the Western world, with its social and religious settings. Balmès approaches the topic with great patience and sensitivity, and has a pronounced knack for the magical – or the otherworldly? – with symbolic scenes of the horse and his trainer. But he never overdoes it: this is sober and simultaneously strongly emotional directing.

It is not easy to strike the right tone with such a sensitive topic, and admittedly, perhaps the director goes too far with Guillaume Poncelet’s overbearingly sentimental piano-and-strings score. But visually and rhythmically, the film skilfully leads the viewer to their own observations and self-reflection. The absurdist scenes with Peyo in the hospital may even stir a macabre sense of humour in a viewer who might be inclined to look at death in a detached, philosophical way. In any case, the film serves up a substantial helping of food for both the mind and the heart.

The TBC-produced À demain sur la Lune has a chance of reaching a large audience thanks to its worldwide rights being taken up by Universal Pictures Content Group.