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.
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.
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
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.
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.
Pablo Borges‘s 2024 short film The Wandering Island (original title La Isla Errante) charmed me with its touching story, beautiful cinematography and last, but not least, skillful camerawork focusing on an idyllic childhood and the acting/appearance of the young Sergio Hernandez in the role of Carlos – a young boy haunted by the mystery of his father’s absence.
In the 2011 French short film, Alone (original title Seuls), directed by Arthur Casez, 11-year-old Theo’s heated argument with his father takes a dramatic turn when he storms off into the forest. When his father is severely injured while pursuing him, Theo finds himself isolated and alone in the vast wilderness and has to make the right choice. 
“What’s the difference between a model plane and the real thing? Scale — that’s it.”
Jacob and the Quisling (original title: Skuddene på Bergenhus) is a Norwegian short film with strong Coming-of-Age overtones. The lead character is twelve year old Jacob (Lukas Holen) whose father makes him clean the floors of the police station. It is there that he meets a man, a quisling (a traitor, especially one who collaborates with an enemy occupying force), who is on death row. 
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