The Good Son (1993)

When I first watched The Good Son, my age was not much different than that of one of its protagonists. So many years later, I decided to watch and review it from a different perspective.

The film follows Mark Evans, a boy sent to live with his cousin Henry after a family tragedy, only to uncover Henry’s sinister nature beneath a facade of charm.

The film offers a unique mixture of psychological tension and a dark Coming-of-Age tale, engaging my attention from its tense opening to its chilling climax.

The contrast between the expressions of Macaulay Culkin and Elijah Wood in this scene from The Good Son (1993) captures the film's central tension between good and evil — The contrast between the expressions of Macaulay Culkin and Elijah Wood in this scene from The Good Son captures the film’s central tension between good and evil

The opening scenes are heartfelt and deeply emotional, driven by an outstanding performance from Elijah Wood as Mark. The filmmaker skilfully expresses his anguish and sensitivity through close-ups of his face during a visit to his dying mother. As the story progresses, the introduction of Mark’s cousin Henry, played by Macaulay Culkin, begins to shift the tone. Mark emerges as a regular kid trying to navigate his circumstances, showing resilience and refusing to let Henry dominate him. Yet, Henry quickly establishes himself as a master manipulator.

Macaulay Culkin and Elijah Wood in The Good Son (1993) — Macaulay Culkin and Elijah Wood in The Good Son

By the time they appeared in The Good Son, both Elijah Wood and Macaulay Culkin had already achieved the status of child stars. Home Alone and My Girl were big hits, making Macaulay Culkin famous. At the same time, Elijah Wood impressed everyone with his poignant performances in Radio Flyer, Forever Young, and The Adventures of Huck Finn.

In The Good Son, their performances were the film’s driving force, bringing the psychological drama to life. Wood’s portrayal of Mark is heartfelt and vulnerable; his wide-eyed wonder slowly gives way to fear and moral conflict. In contrast, Culkin completely transforms his familiar Home Alone persona, presenting Henry as calm, calculated, and deeply unsettling.

The shadowy silhouette of Elijah Wood in the foreground, with Macaulay Culkin blurred in the background, intensifies the eerie tension of The Good Son (1993) — The shadowy silhouette of Elijah Wood in the foreground, with Macaulay Culkin blurred in the background, intensifies the eerie tension of The Good Son

The film’s visual style recalls family dramas from the 1980s-1990s, such as E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, with its focus on suburban innocence disrupted by the uncanny. I have seen many European films, and The Good Son offers a more polished visual style contrasting with the raw observational approach typical for European Coming-of-Age narratives. Here, we have carefully composed shots and heightened suspense, enhanced by a score that amplifies the rising tension. The use of shallow depth of field and soft lighting focuses on the emotions of the young protagonists, creating a natural yet eerie atmosphere. Another difference from the European films is how fast the story moved along. Although the film’s duration is standard at 87 minutes, I didn’t notice how the time flew by. The pacing is remarkable, starting deliberately and then accelerating as the tension mounts.

Elijah Wood’s pensive look in The Good Son (1993) reflects Mark’s unease — Elijah Wood’s pensive look in The Good Son reflects Mark’s unease

While I didn’t form a personal connection with the characters (maybe here we can blame the pacing of the story), this isn’t the kind of film that encourages such relationships. Still, Mark’s emotional journey is at the heart of the narrative, and he is the character whose experiences give the film’s story its Coming-of-Age nuances.

The Good Son Trailer

The film’s finale, which I won’t spoil, offers a potent and satisfying resolution that left me wanting more. At its heart, The Good Son is an engaging, tension-filled Coming-of-Age story that balances psychological depth with sharp technical execution. If you have never seen the film, I highly recommend it. It is a film that can be enjoyed by just about anyone, unlike most of the European films that I usually review, which typically require a much more involved audience.

The Good Son (1993)

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The Devils (2002)

Some films leave an impression. Others leave a scar. The Devils (2002) is the latter. I chose it without knowing exactly what to expect, but from the very first scene, I was completely drawn in.

The film wastes no time in immersing the viewer in its world—two silhouetted children, a boy and a girl, sneak into a house under the cover of darkness. Their body language is tense, and their movements are cautious. There is no exposition, no setup—just raw, immediate storytelling that pulls you straight into their reality.

Vincent Rottiers as Joseph and Adèle Haenel as Chloé in The Devils (2002), captured in a tense, wooded moment that hints at the film’s raw, emotional intensity. — **Vincent Rottiers** as Joseph and **Adèle Haenel** as Chloé in *The Devils* (2002) are captured in a tense, wooded moment that hints at the film’s raw, emotional intensity.

The film carefully reveals details about their personalities—Joseph (Vincent Rottiers), the boy, is streetwise and protective, while Chloé (Adele Haenel), the girl, is different. She doesn’t speak, has nervous tics, and interacts with her surroundings in a way that suggests a condition like autism. And yet, Joseph understands her—not just in how he watches over her but in how he responds—his patience and reassurance.

The Devils (2002) – Trailer

One of the most striking moments early on is when Chloé rearranges scattered objects into the shape of a house with incredible speed and precision. It’s mesmerizing, almost unsettling—her movements are frantic yet deliberate, her mind working at a pace that others can’t match. Joseph watches, not with confusion but admiration. That admiration is reinforced in a beautifully framed close-up of his face—harshly lit, his expression caught somewhere between wonder and quiet understanding. What unfolds is a story that defies genre conventions, blending blistering social critique with heart-stopping intimacy.

Vincent Rottiers as Joseph in The Devils (2002), his face etched with a haunting mix of vulnerability and quiet intensity, eyes clouded with turmoil and lips trembling on the edge of despair.

Vincent Rottiers carries the film with a magnetic intensity. His performance is a live wire of contradictions: tender yet feral, protective yet self-destructive, resulting in one of the most emotionally raw portrayals of troubled youth I’ve seen in Coming-of-Age cinema. There’s a scene early on where he gazes at Chloé with admiration that flickers between brotherly devotion and something more unnervingly primal—a tension the film leans into without ever cheapening.

Vincent Rottiers as JosephThe Devils (2002)

He reminded me of Robert Naylor in Dix et Demi and Harley Cross in The Boy Who Cried Bitch—both actors are known for their intensity—but Rottiers brings something even more layered. While each performance is distinct – Naylor’s with its raw authenticity, Cross’s with its psychological intensity – Rottiers’s performance is different—it’s more layered, driven by his relationship with Chloé, making him both heartbreaking and unpredictable. Somewhere along the way, Joseph’s tears came, which broke me wide open, the tears in my eyes echoing his as I watched the movie. When his character erupts into violence in some of the later scenes, his face contorts not with the shattered despair of someone out of options.

Adele Haenel as Chloé in The Devils (2002), trembling with anguished fury as she struggles against two authorities, her wild hair flying and fist quivering with confusion, a fragile, haunting image of youth’s vulnerability and rage. — Adele Haenel as Chloé in The Devils (2002), trembling with anguished fury as she struggles, her wild hair flying and fist quivering with confusion, a fragile, haunting image of youth’s vulnerability and rage.

Adele Haenel’s portrayal of Chloé is equally stunning yet entirely different. Watching her jittery, untamed energy spilling out in every restless movement results in a vivid and haunting performance that my chest tightened just watching her, marveling at how she embodies Chloé’s fragile fire with such aching precision. She barely speaks, yet her body language says everything. Her trust in Joseph, clear as she curls under his bed in one of the scenes, becomes the film’s emotional heart—a beautiful and devastating bond.

Vincent Rottiers as Joseph and Adèle Haenel as Chloé in The Devils (2002), captured in a moment of intimacy and uncertainty. — **Vincent Rottiers** as Joseph and **Adèle Haenel** as Chloé in *The Devils (2002)* captured a moment of intimacy and uncertainty.

Beyond its performances, The Devils is a film that refuses to offer easy answers. It explores the kind of bond that isn’t easily defined and doesn’t offer easy answers or clean resolutions. Instead, it forces you to sit with the discomfort, to wrestle with its moral complexities. The relationship between Joseph and Chloé shifts and evolves, leaving room for interpretation. Are they siblings? Are they something more? The film never gives a definitive answer, and that ambiguity works to its advantage. This is a story about two children trying to hold onto each other in a world that keeps pulling them apart. The film makes you question what home means, what love looks like without safety, and whether survival itself is ever enough.

The cinematography shifts between intimate close-ups—especially on Joseph’s face, where admiration for Chloé is often evident—and stunning wide shots like the aerial shot of Joseph and Chloé running through a lavender field—two small figures swallowed by a sea of purple. The contrast between these expansive shots and the film’s grittier, more confined moments adds a layer of emotional weight to their journey.

Vincent Rottiers as Joseph and Adèle Haenel as Chloé in The Devils (2002), walking through a lavender field, their silhouettes framed by endless purple blooms under a soft, natural light. — **Vincent Rottiers** as Joseph and **Adèle Haenel** as Chloé in The Devils (2002), walking through a lavender field, their silhouettes framed by endless purple blooms under a soft, natural light.

One of The Devils`s strengths is its screenplay. It’s unpredictable, constantly shifting in ways that challenge the viewer. The direction is taut yet poetic, the editing propulsive yet intimate, and the societal critique razor-sharp.

Having seen many character-driven Coming-of-Age films with intentionally slow story development, I enjoyed The Devils‘ relentless pacing. Every scene moves the story forward, developing both the characters and the questions surrounding them.

The film’s director, Christophe Ruggia, does not hold back. Some scenes are difficult to watch—not because they are violent, but because they are uncompromisingly real.

The film’s score is as dynamic as its storytelling. One moment, a delicate piano melody lulls you into a false sense of calm. The next, a sharp rap beat jolts you awake, mirroring Joseph’s restless energy. The music never manipulates—it amplifies, shaping the film’s tone without overwhelming it.

Vincent Rottiers as Joseph and Adèle Haenel as Chloé in The Devils (2002), locked in a tender yet tense embrace under the dim glow of city lights, their faces illuminated by a mix of vulnerability and unspoken longing, hinting at the fragile, ambiguous bond that defines their story. — **Vincent Rottiers** as Joseph and **Adèle Haenel** as Chloé in The Devils (2002), locked in a tender yet tense embrace under the dim glow of city lights, their faces illuminated by a mix of vulnerability and unspoken longing, hinting at the fragile, ambiguous bond that defines their story.

The Devils doesn’t just tell a story—it immerses you in an unrelenting emotional journey, daring you to look away but knowing you won’t. It’s rare to see a film that captures the beauty and brutality of growing up with such honesty. For fans of bold, emotional cinema, The Devils is a must-see. It is a Coming-of-Age story that refuses to romanticize youth. Instead, it stares unflinchingly at the cost of growing up in a world that offers no soft landings. Watch The Devils, let it seep into you, feel its raw, beautiful weight—I can’t recommend it enough.

The Devils (2002)

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The film makes you question what home means, what love looks like without safety, and whether survival itself is ever enough.

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5

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Class Trip (1998)

I chose Class Trip to view because its synopsis promised a Coming-of-Age story. I knew both Claude Miller, the film’s director, and Clément van den Bergh, the young lead from another movie that is among my top favorites. But more on that later…

In Class Trip (or La Classe de Neige, the film’s original French title), a school trip to the snow-draped mountains becomes a quiet unraveling for 13 year old Nicolas (Clément van den Bergh). Director Claude Miller shapes a world heavy with unease. What starts as a simple getaway twists into something darker—a psychological spiral where reality frays and nightmares seep through the cracks.

Clément van den Bergh as Nicolas in Class Trip (1998) — **Clément van den Bergh** as Nicolas in *Class Trip* (1998)

Having been captivated by Clément van den Bergh’s portrayal of Souplier in The Fire That Burns—one of my favorite films, which was released in 1997 (just a year before Class Trip), I was eager to see his performance in the role of Nicolas. And he did not disappoint. Van den Bergh delivers a poignant and layered performance, masterfully conveying a complex mix of emotions, from quiet sadness to resilience and contemplation.

Channeling the same vulnerability that made his role in The Fire That Burns so memorable, van den Bergh portrays Nicolas as a child both fragile and eerily perceptive, his quiet detachment masking a storm of unresolved emotion.

Van den Bergh’s Nicolas isn’t just a character; he’s a ghostly echo of every child who’s ever felt too much. He doesn’t just act vulnerable—he breathes it. His performance isn’t watched; it’s felt. For someone so young to articulate this kind of emotional weight is no minor accomplishment—it’s a testament to his extraordinary talent.

Clément van den Bergh in Class Trip (1998), delivering a performance that lingers like a whispered secret—fragile, raw, and impossibly real. — **Clément van den Bergh** in Class Trip (1998) delivering a performance that lingers like a whispered secret—fragile, raw, and impossibly real.

While some directors lean on melodramatic, tear-jerking moments to stir emotions, the director of Class Trip takes a quieter path. He lets the story breathe, focusing on Nicolas’s telling reactions—his expressive eyes and face. There’s a tension you can sense in the boy’s look, but it’s subtle, the kind that pulls you in to think rather than hitting you over the head. Intriguingly enough, the principal mentor of the film’s director, Claude Miller, was Francois Truffaut, whose name keeps resurfacing in my reviews of Coming-of-Age cinema and for a good reason. His work has inspired filmmakers from different lands and cultures – especially those focusing on character-driven narratives.

The film’s cinematography keeps things real but with a careful, deliberate touch. The lighting is soft and natural, and the colors are muted. This creates a subdued, melancholic mood, perfectly mirroring Nicolas’s shy and reflective nature. It’s not about flashy visuals; it’s about creating a quiet, raw space that contributes to the feeling of quiet realism that prevails in the movie.

Nicolas’s most significant relationship is the one he has with his fears and anxieties, as they seem to shape his perception of reality. Thus, a considerable part of the narrative focuses on them. A window into his inner world, his dreams and fantasies hint at unusual dynamics in his relationships. The filmmakers seamlessly blend Nicolas’s nightmares with his reality, using the same visual style throughout. His fears feel like a natural extension of his world rather than a separate, fantastical realm. This understated approach keeps the emotional tone consistent and immersive.

Trailer

Class Trip offers a masterclass in atmospheric tension. Its subtle emotional storytelling, combined with its intimate, character-driven approach and nuanced exploration of childhood anxieties, places it firmly within the tradition of classic Coming-of-Age narratives. Yet the film’s true power lies in what remains unsaid. The film provides numerous clues about the characters, some visual and others in the dialogue. Deciphering these clues is engrossing, even though what they reveal is deeply disturbing. The story told in Class Trip is undoubtedly a Coming-of-Age one, but with a twist as the eerie atmosphere that prevails in the film suggests that childhood is not just a time of discovery but also fear and vulnerability.

Clément van den Bergh's expression blends sadness, resilience, and contemplation. His pressed lips and distant gaze hint at inner turmoil. — **Clément van den Bergh’s** expression blends sadness, resilience, and contemplation. His pressed lips and distant gaze hint at inner turmoil.

Not that long ago, someone pointed out that if I mention negative aspects of a film in my review, that effectively discourages people from watching it. In the case of Class Trip, the film is a masterpiece of the Coming-of-Age genre, and I highly recommend it! Some people will dislike it, especially those who are looking for swift action and escapist entertainment. Still, for the rest, Class Trip delivers a haunting exploration of childhood’s darker undercurrents and I, for one, have not discovered a single flaw to point out.

Class Trip (1998)

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5

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King of Thieves (2004)

Can childhood innocence survive the most brutal of betrayals? You will relentlessly ask yourself this question while watching King of Thieves (original title = König der Diebe).

It’s a suspenseful and unsettling drama anchored by Iakov Kultiasov‘s heartbreaking portrayal of young Barbu, a 10-year-old from a poor Ukrainian village who is sold alongside his sister to Caruso (played by Lazar Ristovski), a German swindler promising a false escape into the circus.

Instead of the promised circus life, Barbu is forced into a criminal underworld while his sister, Mimma, meets an even crueler fate, shattering the illusions Caruso fed them.

In many ways, the story is a modern, darker version of Charles Dickens’s Oliver Twist. Like a real Fagin, Caruso performs the role of a caring mentor, masking his exploitative intentions and true motives. Initially, Barbu naively sees him as a mentor figure. At the same time, Caruso, in a twisted way, seems to view Barbu as the son he never had.

Iakov Kultiasov as Barbu in the opening scenes of King of Thieves (2004), sporting a carefree expression — **Iakov Kultiasov** as Barbu in the opening scenes of King of Thieves (2004), sporting a carefree expression

The stark contrast between Barbu’s once joyful life in Ukraine and his grim new reality in Berlin makes the film emotionally challenging. It is difficult not to feel devastated for Barbu as one watches the layers of his innocence peel away. What should be a Coming-of-Age story becomes something deeply tragic for Barbu—the brutal world he’s trapped in twists and darkens his entire journey. And because we see everything unfold through Barbu’s young eyes, the story truly hits you right in the heart.

Iakov Kultiasov as Barbu alongside Oktay Özdemir as Marcel in King of Thieves (2004) — **Iakov Kultiasov** as Barbu alongside **Oktay Özdemir** as Marcel in King of Thieves (2004)

The camera frequently lingers on Iakov Kultiasov’s face, capturing emotions ranging from unguarded joy to the painful reality of his bloodied features. The child’s wounded, glistening face evokes the raw vulnerability of a child I remember from the film Pixote (1981), another film that unflinchingly explores childhood suffering within a violent, exploitative world. These close-ups create an intimate, sometimes uncomfortable emotional connection – making it easy to be interested and care for Barbu’s fate.

The film’s aesthetic leans towards a naturalistic yet slightly heightened realism, typical of European cinema. The cinematographer employs tinted lighting—reds and yellows—to underscore the suffocating atmosphere of violence and lost innocence. As a whole, many scenes have low brightness and a cool color palette, which evokes a noir-like or thriller aesthetic.

Iakov Kultiasov as Barbu alongside Lazar Ristovski as Caruso in King of Thieves (2004). The scene is bathed in a distinctive yellow tint, adding to its atmospheric depth

Fans of intense Coming-of-Age dramas, particularly those drawn to the Oliver Twist-like elements in King of Thieves, may also want to check out The Children of Times Square (1986) and Dealer (2021). Like Oliver Twist and King of Thieves, these films feature vulnerable young protagonists navigating treacherous urban landscapes and encountering exploitative or morally ambiguous figures who mirror the Fagin archetype.

Unlike traditional Coming-of-Age stories that celebrate personal growth and discovery, King of Thieves presents a tragic version of this narrative. Barbu’s transformation is not one of empowerment but of forced adaptation to cruelty. This rough and unforgiving portrayal of childhood in distress is reminiscent of other films with gritty storylines, such as Lukas Moodysson‘s Lilja 4-Ever, Robert Glinski‘s Swinki, and Wiktor Grodecki‘s Mandragora. In all these films, the loss of innocence is not just a theme but an inevitable fate.

King of Thieves is a distinctive and unflinching film. Even if Iakov Kultiasov’s portrayal occasionally borders on exaggeration, that doesn’t diminish the film’s impact. I highly recommend it to anyone who appreciates gritty, hard-hitting Coming-of-Age cinema.

King of Thieves (2004)

In short

King of Thieves is a distinctive and unflinching film. Even if Iakov Kultiasov's portrayal occasionally borders on exaggeration, that doesn’t diminish the film’s impact. I highly recommend it to anyone who appreciates gritty, hard-hitting Coming-of-Age cinema.

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3.9

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I Don’t Love You Anymore (2023)

In Zdenek Jirzsky‘s 2023 film I Don’t Love You Anymore, thirteen-year-olds Marek and Tereza, whose connection begins when Tereza intervenes in a bullying incident involving Marek (an act of pity, she claims, though her true motivations remain ambiguous), form an unlikely friendship and, each haunted by their own personal demons, decide to run away from home together.

While I Don’t Love You Anymore might superficially resemble a Coming-of-Age road movie at times, like A West Texas Children’s Story, the comparison ends there. The film defies easy categorization, blurring the lines between cautionary tale, love story, Coming-of-Age road film, drama, or social critique.

Daniel Zeman as Marek and Maisha Romera Kollmann as Tereza

It is impossible not to note the prevailing Eastern European style of the picture, shaped by its Czech, Slovak, and Romanian roots. It infuses every frame with a distinct visual texture. The result is an unmistakeable and unsettling toughness evident in its characters and settings, setting it apart from more conventional entries in the genre.

The film’s heavy use of technology, especially phones, is a recurring motif, creating a sense of detachment. It’s like a shield separating the characters from the harsh reality. The soundtrack adds to the urban feel, but the atmosphere remains cold and empty, starkly contrasting. This coldness is amplified by the film’s realistic, at times slow, pacing, which unfortunately makes the experience feel unnecessarily drawn out. Even Marek and Tereza’s decision to run away fails to inject much-needed energy into the narrative.

While the film features two young leads, Daniel Zeman as Marek and Maisha Romera Kollmann as Tereza, it’s Zeman’s performance, primarily through Marek’s perspective, that truly captivates. He delivers a compelling portrayal, making Marek the character the audience is most likely to connect with and care about. Marek’s relationship with his mom is complicated, and it seems he struggles with her having a new boyfriend. The movie does a great job of showing how he uses his camera to try to stay in control of his life, even though it probably isn’t healthy.

The relationship between Marek and Teresa is a confusing mix of friendship, manipulation, and awkwardness, making it difficult to fully connect with their dynamic. While there are a few positive moments, they are fleeting and ultimately overshadowed by the prevailing bleakness.

I Don’t Love You Anymore bears the apparent influence of the French New Wave, employing techniques like extended shots, a focus on individual experiences, and an acceptance of the absurdity of life. These stylistic choices, reminiscent of filmmakers like François Truffaut, contribute to the film’s distinctive and often unsettling atmosphere. The ambiguous ending, reminiscent of Truffaut’s The 400 Blows, leaves viewers with unanswered questions and a lingering sense of uncertainty. While potentially frustrating for some, this open conclusion invites reflection on the characters’ fates and the complex themes explored throughout the film.

It’s not easy to recommend a film like this. Yes, it features a Coming-of-Age tale with a talented actor, and that’s why I chose to watch it in the first place. But it has a distinct bleak atmosphere – not my favorite thing – and its story is not that memorable. If you are looking for something different, give it a chance, but you may just as well skip it altogether.

I Don’t Love You Anymore (2023) Trailer

I Don’t Love You Anymore (2023)

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3.1

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The Book of Everything (2024)

Co-produced between the Netherlands and Latvia, The Book of Everything tells the story of Thomas, a young boy navigating a complex world of religious fervor, an authoritarian father, and burgeoning curiosity.

The film captures the world through Thomas’s eyes. To cope with the strict upbringing of his overly religious father, Thomas often escapes into a fantasy world where he has conversations with Jesus, reminiscent of the imaginary friend dynamic of Taika Waititi‘s 2019 film Jojo Rabbit, suggesting a similar coping mechanism for a child facing difficult realities.

Magical realism in The Book of Everything

Unfortunately unlike Jojo Rabbit, where the story impressed me with its ingenuity and originality, the attempt to blend Coming-of-Age drama and magical realism feels jarring in The Book of Everything. Admittedly, I am not a big fan of magical realism and often prefer more grounded dramas because I think that the fantasy, as in this case, tends to diminish the story’s impact. Of course exceptions exist, like the Belgian film Toto the Hero, where fantasy and reality blend seamlessly. But sadly, with this film, that’s not the case. Before the first scene of magical realism, I felt deeply moved by Thomas’s story. But, as the story unfolded, I felt less and less attachment to his character.

Yet, when it comes to acting, I have only good things to say about the young protagonist. Brandon River Coene delivers a remarkable performance as Thomas. He conveys many emotions without being overly dramatic, which is impressive for a young actor. It was intriguing to observe how his character moves from passive observer to active questioner in a manner often present in Coming-of-Age stories, only with that surreal twist brought about by the use of magical realism.

The film also includes excellent sound design, intensifying the atmosphere and drawing the viewer into Thomas’s experiences. The score, which features a sad treble performance, matches the film’s religious connotations.

Ultimately, The Book of Everything offers an original take on the Coming-of-Age narrative. Still, its ambitious storytelling doesn’t achieve the emotional resonance of other films in the genre. The film has many redeeming qualities, including its overall visual style, captivating lead, and good sound design. Overall, it is a rewarding — if slightly imperfect — viewing experience.

Trailer

The Book of Everything (2024)

In short

The Book of Everything tells the story of Thomas, a young boy navigating a complex world of religious fervor, an authoritarian father, and burgeoning curiosity

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2.8

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The Blond Boy from the Casbah (2023)

In the 1950s Algiers, a city on the cusp of conflict, The Blond Boy from the Casbah (titled in French: La Petite Blonde de la Casbah) unfolds as a beautifully shot Coming-of-Age story.

The film opens in the present as the adult filmmaker Antoine Lisner journeys to Algiers with his son to present a movie. In a series of flashbacks, he retraces his childhood memories from the perspective of a young Antoine (played by Léo Campion) who grows up in the 50s surrounded by a diverse and loving household – Jewish, Muslim, Christian — the lines blur. But the peace is shattered as bombs begin to explode in the city.

The film, as told retrospectively, follows Antoine as he discovers his passion for cinema against the escalating Algerian conflict of that period.

The acting is fantastic, particularly young lead Léo Campion, who gives a standout performance. I have seen him previously in the short film Alone and the movie The Time of Secrets and, based on my impressions of him in those films, had high expectations for him in The Blond Boy from the Casbah. He did not disappoint.

Léo Campion as Antoine in The Blonde Boy from the Casbah

Once again, his expressive face and strong body language bring his character to life, aided by a skillful camera and directing that effectively highlights his performance, using varied compositions to emphasize his emotional state and experiences. The portrayal of young Antoine and his burgeoning passion for cinema—ultimately leading him to become a filmmaker—parallels the 1988 melodrama Cinema Paradiso. I can also see parallels between Antoine’s own experience as a child — witnessing conflict — and the film Forbidden Games (1952), which is directly referenced in the narrative itself.

"I prefer movies to life." Antoine Lisner — “I prefer movies to life.” Antoine Lisner

Unfortunately, while Campion’s acting is excellent, I didn’t feel a deep connection with his character. This is due not only to the overall pacing of the film which, given that it’s presented as a memory, has a deliberate, reflective quality. But it also must be looked at in the historical context which, while likely familiar to French audiences, may be less accessible to a broader international audience. The film’s realistic style, including detailed sets and period-specific props, creates a nostalgic and bittersweet portrait of childhood.

The lighting throughout these scenes varies significantly. In the more brightly lit moments, warm tones evoke a sense of nostalgia and comfort, while darker scenes employ harsher lighting, suggesting tension or sadness.

I usually enjoy Coming-of-Age stories for their nostalgic value and the opportunity to feel emotionally connected to and moved by the characters and story. Sadly, this time that wasn’t the case. The ending is exceptionally moving, but I’m unsure if I can recommend the film based on the emotional finale alone.

Perhaps those who either have followed the career of Léo Campion or simply enjoy this glimpse of a time presented in a Coming-of-Age narrative, will find the film worthwhile. I don’t regret the time spent watching The Blond Boy from the Casbah, but I hesitate to recommend it highly to anyone but the most devoted fans of the Coming-of-Age genre. At the end one witnesses Antoine’s transformation from a naive boy to a man confronting his roots. It’s a film for those who appreciate a slower pace and a focus on atmosphere. But, be warned, it’s not a wild ride and you might not feel super connected to the characters.

Trailer

The Blond Boy from the Casbah (2023)

In short

In a series of flashbacks, filmmaker Antoine Lisner retraces childhood memories growing up in Algiers in the 50s surrounded by a diverse and loving household but also experiencing that turbulent time in that nation.

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3.5

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L.I.E. (2001)

Long Island Expressway is a gritty Coming-of-Age story that explores loss, belonging, and the complexities of growing up. When I first watched this film in 2003 (over 15 years ago), I thought it was mostly about controversial topics. Yet, now I realise how wrong I was in my initial assessment, as the narrative strikes me as a deeper Coming-of-Age story that requires a little maturity to appreciate fully.

Why did I think it was controversial? It could have been because of the dialogue at times. The conversations among young characters in the film are raw, vulgar, and reckless. Yet, as I can confirm from my life experience at that age, such discussions are true to life.

The film does not waste time involving the viewer with its characters and their story. From the very first opening scene, the gritty, realistic visuals make the movie feel grounded, while the dramatic music hints at the emotional intensity to come—no fancy visuals or idealized portrayal of childhood (which I enjoy so much in other flicks). Instead, the overall aesthetic leans towards realism, with a raw and unembellished portrayal of the environment.

Paul Dano’s Howie Blitzer balances on a highway overpass in L.I.E. (2001), symbolizing his recklessness and search for control.

In the first scenes, the main protagonist, 15-year-old Howie Blitzer (portrayed by Paul Dano), uses first-person narration to give us a unique look into his mind. Although this first-person narration is used sparingly, it sets the scene and one’s expectations for an intimate Coming-of-Age story. It also introduces some of the film’s central themes, such as fate, loss, and the dangers lurking beneath suburban life.

The dynamic musical score begins with an intense, drama-thriller feel, hinting at the emotional intensity to come. It then shifts through rebellious energy and eventually settles into an easygoing Americana vibe before it morphs back into that drama feel that characterizes the film.

Paul Dano’s character Howie is portrayed in a relatable, intimate context, which makes it easy to identify with him and care about his fate. His character projects a mix of naivety and toughness, as if he will grow up too soon. This doesn’t come as a surprise when you have a kid with a dead mother, an overworked, absent father (whom I am willing to blame for Howie’s downward spiral), and a manipulative best friend.

For better or worse, I have connected to the character of Howie Blitzer based on some of my past experiences. It is not necessarily related to the film’s plot – but it would be wrong to say that some of the Coming-of-Age experiences that Howie goes through are not universal. From the desire for validation and idealization of people you don’t know to the refusal to accept advice or the information others seem willing to provide.

This still from L.I.E. (2001) captures Paul Dano's character, Howie Blitzer, with a solemn expression and a black eye, reflecting his vulnerability and the harsh realities of his troubled world. — This still from L.I.E. (2001) captures Paul Dano’s character, Howie Blitzer, with a solemn expression and a black eye, reflecting his vulnerability and the harsh realities of his troubled world.

Paul Dano’s facial expressions often hint at Howie’s internal conflicts and emotional state. His expressions frequently portray a mixture of defiance and vulnerability, indicated by his slight frown and intense gaze. The interpersonal relationships between the characters of the story are dynamic and complex. Everything is in the mix: friendship, attraction, manipulation, mentorship, and even indifference—all these interactions shape the boy’s character even further. The result is a dynamic central character reminiscing Truffaut‘s Antoine in the classic 1959 film The Four Hundred Blows.

You may notice many visual metaphors in the narrative. For example, in a scene in which Howie observes his reflection in a mirror at home, the mirror serves as a powerful metaphor for self-reflection and identity. The Long Island Expressway could metaphorize fate, direction, and moral descent. Even mentioning poetry and literature in the later scenes reinforces a longing for self-expression and deeper connection. In other scenes, a simple gesture can become imbued with significance – highlighting themes of discretion and the weight of unshared knowledge.

A still from L.I.E. (2001) featuring Paul Dano as Howie Blitzer, applying lipstick in front of a mirror, symbolizing his struggle with identity, self-expression, and the complexities of coming-of-age.

Those metaphors and the dialogue evidence skillful screenwriting (Stephen M. Ryder) and clever direction (Michael Cuesta). Last, I will mention the editing style, especially when actions are cut between two scenes simultaneously. This makes the movie feel more dynamic and adds to the tension.

Why did it take me so many years since I first saw the film to finally review it? I am not sure. But we live and learn. Yes, the film does portray a specific unconventional bond and manipulation. Still, it also offers a unique and powerful look at the struggles of youth – making it a prime example of an excellent Coming-of-Age narrative. Overall, Long Island Expressway is a film that demands your attention. It’s a challenging watch, but it’s also a rewarding one.

L.I.E. (2001)

In short

Overall, L.I.E. (Long Island Expressway) is a film that demands your attention. It's a challenging watch, but it's also a rewarding one.

4.4

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The Time of Secrets (2021)

I’ll examine the 2021 French film Le Temps des Secrets (The Time of Secrets) in this review. I’m especially interested in the performance of young actor Léo Champion, whose work I’ve seen previously in Arthur Casez‘s short film Alone. The opening credits announce his debut in cinema as The Time of Secrets is his first full-length feature film.

The Time of Secrets tells a delightful and relatable story about growing up, filled with meaningful moments with which everyone can connect. The movie begins with a scene that hints at a memory-based narrative, showing an old man walking toward a cave. We then flashback to his childhood in Marseille, France. Such memory-based narratives are often a feature in the Coming-of-Age genre and frequently, as in this case, explore themes of first love, shifting friendships, and the challenges of navigating one’s place in the world.

The narrative unfolds in two distinct parts: one during Marcel’s summer vacation, where he meets the captivating Isabelle (portrayed wonderfully by the young Lucie Berset), and the other as he navigates the complexities of attending a new school in Marseille.

The film’s visual style echoes the aesthetics of classical European cinema, particularly films that focus on pastoral beauty and Coming-of-Age themes. The soft, naturalistic lighting and warm, nostalgic hues create a dreamlike, almost poetic atmosphere. The narrative is character-driven and based on the autobiographical novel of the French novelist, playwright, and filmmaker Marcel Pagnol.

With a character-based narrative, casting the lead protagonist is essential, and they could not have made a better choice than casting Léo Campion. His portrayal of the young Marcel is a masterclass in subtle emotional expression. His expressive face tugs at the heartstrings throughout the film. From the wonder in his eyes as he listens to Isabelle play the piano during that magical summer, a scene that beautifully captures the burgeoning feelings of first love, to the subtle gestures that betray his inner turmoil later at school, Campion’s portrayal is both nuanced and deeply moving.

Marcel (Leo Champion) listening to Isabel Isabelle playing for him

And connect I did. The film’s portrayal of first love and shifting friendships felt intensely personal. Marcel’s choice resonated with my experience of choosing a girl over a soccer game with my closest friends – a decision that, while heartfelt back then, now seems less clear-cut. Watching Marcel’s struggles as a scholarship student hit close to home, especially the scene where he faces adversity. It brought back memories of my time as a US scholarship student.

Marcel is a richly layered protagonist whose journey in Le Temps des Secrets encapsulates the bittersweet essence of growing up. The camera often lingers on his face, ensuring one can connect with Marcel’s emotional journey. A shallow depth of field is utilized frequently to keep Léo Campion’s character in sharp focus while the background remains soft and indistinct.

This technique heightens emotional engagement and signifies the boy’s inner world, suggesting that his thoughts and feelings are the narrative’s focal point. Yet, just like in life, I can’t promise you will always like his character and choices.

The film’s director, Christophe Barratier, has previously directed two masterpieces of Coming-of-Age cinema: War of the Buttons (2011) and The Chorus (2004). His experience in working with young actors is evident throughout this film.

The film’s musical score further enhances this sentiment. The music in this movie is deeply woven into the film. It’s part of the story, like in the scenes where Isabelle plays the piano, but it’s also like a nostalgic movie soundtrack you’d hear in a theater. It has this melancholic vibe that makes you long for the past, like Marcel does.

The setting and locations in which the film is shot deserve mention. I have always thought France is a beautiful country, and the filmmakers ensure that one can appreciate the natural beauty surrounding the characters. The soft and diffused lighting suggests a gentle, perhaps serene, atmosphere.

Marcel (Leo Champion) and Isabelle( Lucie Berset) — Marcel (Léo Champion) and Isabelle (Lucie Berset)

The natural setting serves as a character in its own right, with the landscape depicted as vast and inviting. The film’s visuals are often reminiscent of Impressionist art, which adds to the warmth and emotional depth of the story. I enjoyed the way the movie flows between scenes. The transitions are smooth, and they help tell the story.

The film is listed as both a drama and a comedy. While humor is present, it is also a delightful blend of witty dialogue and subtle, observational comedy. While the interactions between characters often provide laugh-out-loud moments, the film also offers quieter, more reflective humor that arises from the situations themselves. Furthermore, the film uses subtle storytelling to introduce adult complexities (social classes, women’s rights… etc.) without over-explaining them.

The final scene of The Time of Secrets is truly beautiful. Tears streamed down my face — happy tears because the story so moved me. This film reminded me why I love movies, especially Coming-of-Age stories. It’s a feeling that will stay with me until my last breath. I highly recommend this film. I’m positive you, like me, will fall under its charm.

The Time of Secrets (2021)

In short

The Time of Secrets tells a delightful and relatable story about growing up, filled with meaningful moments everyone can connect with.

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5

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Clenched Fist (2023)

Clenched Fist is a powerful Belgian film that hits you right in the gut. The movie centers on Lucien Vandernoot (played by Yanis Frisch), a young boy who reconnects with his father at his grandmother’s funeral after years of separation. His dad’s in prison, and the rest of the film deals with the boy’s struggle to understand his father and his place in the world.

Lucien’s mom has kept him and his older brother in the dark about the circumstances of his dad’s past, and it’s clear that she has done so to shield the boys as any mother would. Yet, when Lucien meets his father, reality collides with the protective bubble his mother has created.

Clenched Fist is anything but a feel-good film. On the contrary, it is a Coming-of-Age drama loaded with melancholy, tension, and suppressed emotion. The story has many tough moments, and is not afraid to show the ugly side of life.

Yanis Frisch as Lucien in Clenched Fist (2023)

One scene in particular is really hard to watch, and it’s a good reminder of how cruel people can be. Without a traditional soundtrack (there is no music for the entire film’s duration), the movie’s gritty realism shines through, making you feel like you’re alongside the characters. The main character’s journey is heartbreaking, and his pain feels so real that I’ve had to wipe away tears a few times. Without any doubt, the film’s emotional weight is enormous.

The film quietly explores broken families, social shame, and hidden feelings. It feels very personal, hinting that past mistakes still hurt. Lucien Vandernoot is the emotional core of Clenched Fist, and his interactions suggest a painful realization of his identity. The story in Clenched Fist perfectly explores his inner conflict between holding onto a connection with his father and the societal/familial rejection of that bond.

Yanis Frisch, as Lucien, delivers a poignant and sincere performance of extraordinary depth. It is only his first role in cinema, but he outperforms many seasoned actors. Children often struggle to express deep emotions in words, and Lucien shows this through small gestures, silent resistance, and occasional outbursts. He speaks little, letting his eyes tell the story. And in those eyes lies his entire world: pain, torment, anger, and an unshakable determination.

Often, the camera’s angle is at eye level with Frisch’s character, fostering a sense of intimacy and connection. That’s probably why I felt a deeply personal connection with Lucian, which is why I felt the strong emotional tow of his story, especially realizing that sooner or later, he would face a heartbreaking yet inevitable choice.

Having seen Young Hearts and Close not long ago, I could not help but notice that Belgian filmmakers have a real talent for these Coming-of-Age stories. Vivian Goffette, who wrote and directed Clenched Fist, has created a masterpiece that left me speechless as the final credits rolled, but yet willing to give this film a standing ovation.

Clenched Fist (2023)

In short

Clenched Fist is anything but a feel-good film. On the contrary, it is a Coming-of-Age drama loaded with melancholy, tension, and suppressed emotion.

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Eva & Leon (2015)

Eva & Leon is a sweet and heartwarming 2015 French film that follows the unlikely friendship between a young orphan and an independent young woman.

The acting is solid, but nothing that stands out. It’s interesting to note the experience of the lead actors. Clotilde Hesme, who plays Eva, brings a depth of experience to the role. In contrast, Florian Lemaire, who plays Leon, is relatively new to the scene, with this being only his second full length movie after having done a short film.

While Eva’s character is well-developed, Leon’s story feels underdeveloped, which makes it difficult to form a deep personal connection with him. However, this doesn’t necessarily hinder the enjoyment of the film, as the focus remains on the unique dynamic between the two characters.

The music is mostly calm and relaxing, which helps set the movie’s laid-back tone. Most of the film’s characters are positive, and the movie has a feel-good vibe.

The film explores the strong intergenerational friendship and relationship between Eva and Leon. This is a fresh take on the classic intergenerational story, where the adult figure is typically an older man, as seen in films like Honkytonk Man or St. Vincent. Instead, Eva is a young, independent woman, which adds a unique dynamic to the relationship. Despite the age difference, there’s a Bonnie and Clyde-esque energy to their story.

The film touches on Coming-of-Age themes, but it’s more about Eva’s personal growth than a traditional story tied to a specific age.

While the movie has a nice message about family and finding your place in the world, Eva and Leon is a pleasant watch, but it’s not memorable or groundbreaking.

Eva & Leon (2015)

In short

Eva & Leon is a sweet and heartwarming 2015 French film that follows the unlikely friendship between a young orphan and an independent young woman.

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2.8

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Young Hearts (2024)

Young Hearts, a Belgian film that has garnered significant attention since its release, tells the poignant story of two young boys, Elias and Alexander, whose lives intertwine when Alexander moves into the neighborhood. This beautifully crafted Coming-of-Age story delicately explores the often confusing terrain of first love.

The film is filled with intimate close-up shots that create a deep sense of intimacy and connection between the characters, as well as natural lighting and soft natural hues that add to its nostalgic and heartfelt tone. Often, the effective use of lighting in various scenes helps to highlight the dynamics between the characters. The film’s choice of muted greens, browns, and blues adds to a nostalgic and contemplative tone, evoking themes of youth, freedom, and the fleeting nature of childhood friendships. All of that confirms that the filmmakers have ensured that the movie’s visual style matches its emotional tone.

The casting could not have been better. One can sense the natural chemistry between Alexander (Marius De Saeger) and Elias (Lou Goossens), which helps their relationship and the story feel sincere and authentic.

Marius De Saeger as Alexander delivers a terrific performance. His facial expressions are often playful and slightly mischievous, effectively conveying his character’s charming and somewhat enigmatic personality — irresistible even – if I may allow myself to describe him more subjectively. When introduced as a new student in Elias’s class, he appears cautious yet hopeful.

However, it is not only the facial expressions that one notes. The body language of the young leads and eye contact between their characters hint at a deep friendship— maybe even one filled with unspoken emotions. The subtlety of their body language makes dramatic gestures or dialogue unnecessary, as if their presence together is enough.

This is best seen in a scene where they both meet while riding their bikes and returning from school. This scene also encapsulates the essence of Coming-of-Age storytelling, with the rural setting and bicycle ride symbolizing adventure, self-discovery, and the innocence of youth. This is one of the reasons why I enjoy seeing a bike-riding scene in a Coming-of-Age film.

The filmmakers then use selective focus to enhance the boys’ expressions, making their emotions the focal point. This is predominantly the case when the camera focuses on Elias, as he is the one who goes through the trials and tribulations of first love. Falling in love is not a simple thing—especially at a young age—it’s the confusion and the inner conflicts—all of which are present in the movie.

In some character-driven moments, the filmmakers use cinematography to subtly express Elias’s emotional journey. In the pool scene after the first kiss, we see Elias with furrowed brows, slightly pursed lips, and an intense gaze, suggesting that he is deep in thought, struggling to make sense of his emotions. Facial expressions come into play once again, and this time, Lou Goossens delivers an emotive performance.

The story is predominantly told from Elias’s perspective – he is a vulnerable character with confusing feelings and thoughts. In many scenes, Alexander is present but also appears uncertain about how to approach Elias. Sometimes, one notices an emotional distance between the two boys, despite their physical proximity, symbolizing Elias’s inner conflicts.

Young Hearts is undoubtedly a Coming-of-Age film with first love as its central motif, but not all scenes are charged with emotions. Some scenes, like the bike ride or swimming in the river, capture the essence of friendship and the joy of shared adventures. So, one is likely to find a relatable scene or feeling not necessarily related to love (to which, as portrayed in the film, some more conservative viewers may object). Who hasn’t had a best friend?

The music in the film is compelling. Sometimes, it’s part of the story, like when they play the dad’s song about first love or when the boys watch a drag queen perform a song about love in a club. Other times, it’s separate from the story, like the sad piano music that makes certain scenes feel more emotional. This mix of music in the story and outside it helps tie the whole movie together and emphasizes the theme of love in its various forms.

It is not hard to identify with the characters. In some of the film’s most emotional scenes, the filmmakers use over-the-shoulder framing, placing the viewer within the boys’ perspective. That made me feel like I was right there with Elias and Alexander – which speaks volumes of the film’s quality.

Young Hearts shares many similarities with the 2022 Belgian film Close. Both movies explore the intense connections between young boys and the confusion that comes with those feelings. However, where Close takes a more ambiguous approach, Young Hearts is more straightforward about the romantic side.

While the film’s ending may feel somewhat idealized compared to the grounded realism of the preceding narrative, it ultimately offers a hopeful and poignant conclusion. Overall, Young Hearts is a must-see for anyone who has experienced the bittersweet pangs of first love; a film that beautifully captures the vulnerability, confusion, and, ultimately, the enduring power of young hearts.

Young Hearts (2024)

In short

Young Hearts is a beautifully crafted Coming-of-Age story that tells the poignant story of two young boys whose lives intertwine when the new boy moves into the neighborhood.

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Reader Rating13 Votes

5

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TheSkyKid.com

TheSKyKid.com

The Good Son (1993)

The Devils (2002)

Class Trip (1998)

King of Thieves (2004)

I Don’t Love You Anymore (2023)

The Book of Everything (2024)

The Blond Boy from the Casbah (2023)

L.I.E. (2001)

The Time of Secrets (2021)

Clenched Fist (2023)

Eva & Leon (2015)

Young Hearts (2024)