In 1963, a 13-year-old girl named Hanna sits at the edge of a turning point in rural Quebec, living with her grandparents and her uncle who, it seems, has a developmental difference. When she gets her first period, a moment laden with awkwardness and curiosity, she interrupts a family dinner with a call from her father, an interruption that unsettles her grandmother and foreshadows a shift in Hanna’s sense of belonging. The onset of puberty, paired with her grandmother’s matter-of-fact, less-than-supportive explanation, nudges Hanna toward a decision: she will return to her parents in Montreal to navigate this new chapter with them.
Back in the small, fraying apartment, Hanna is greeted by her brother Paul. The family’s finances are strained, with rent often overdue and sometimes paid by pawning items from the home. Her father, a Polish Jewish poet who survived the Holocaust, is both overbearing and capable of tenderness. He longs to connect with Hanna by sharing intimate memories—recounting his former wife who was killed by the Nazis and urging Hanna to read works that shaped his worldview. His intensity contrasts with Hanna’s mother, who carries depression, labors long hours in a sewing factory, and spends nights typing her husband’s poems. Despite moments of anger toward him, Hanna’s mother confesses a need for him as part of their imperfect life.
As Hanna grows into this new life, she wrestles with her body and her feelings. A pivotal moment comes when she slips away to a cinema screening of Jean-Luc Godard’s Vivre Sa Vie and becomes entranced by Nana, the film’s poised and searching character. The influence of that film seeps into Hanna’s daily world—she begins to experiment with self-presentation, adopting certain poses and styles that echo Nana’s independence. At school, Hanna’s first day is charged with risk as she openly states that her parents are not married and that she herself does not identify as Jewish or Catholic, reflecting the complex loyalties and questions about identity that have shaped her life. A teacher who notices her courage and defiance defends Hanna against anti-Semitic taunts from a classmate. The teacher’s own resemblance to Karina’s character sparks a quiet admiration, and she encourages Hanna to forge her own beliefs rather than rely on a cinematic model.
Hanna’s world expands as she explores her sexuality and sense of self. She spends time with a school friend named Laura, and the two attend a dance together, sharing a kiss that deepens Hanna’s sense of possibility and vulnerability. When Hanna introduces Laura to Paul, the trio forms a small, complicated unit as they try to understand their feelings and friendships, all while Hanna increasingly feels isolated inside her own awakening.
Tragedy intrudes when Hanna’s mother attempts suicide after a quarrel with her husband. Visiting at the hospital, Hanna is haunted by the sedated, unresponsive figure of the mother she loves and fears losing. A moment of danger follows when a bread run becomes an assault: the baker, who is supposed to simply hand over bread and a few coins, leads Hanna into a back room where he gropes her. The encounter is brief but brutal, leaving Hanna with a sense of violation that shadows the rest of the day.
After a further dispute with her father, Hanna and Paul decide to leave the apartment, though Hanna does not return to the familiar home. She wanders into the city’s red-light district, is accompanied by a stray dog, and begins to borrow the persona of a prostitute, mirroring the style she admired in Godard’s film. A man offers her a ride to a cheap hotel, but when his advances turn coercive, Hanna musters the will to flee, narrowly escaping a worse fate.
Crushed by despair, Hanna collapses at her teacher’s doorstep, the dog by her side, and the next morning they are found. She returns to the family apartment, where her father offers a warm welcome with a dinner prepared in his house. She resumes school, where her teacher lends her a small movie camera, believing in her potential and promising she will learn to use it. The film closes with shots from the camera, capturing glimpses of Hanna’s mother and reflecting a tentative, hopeful turn toward the summer spent at the grandparents’ house. The ending suggests that, despite the turmoil, Hanna’s journey toward understanding herself and her place in her family—and the world around her—continues with a renewed sense of possibility.
