One of the advantages of being very young is that he arranges things, even unconsciously, and arranges events in such a way that they do not hinder his galloping imagination.
Robin Cabillo’s Red Island, who wowed us with 120 BPM, unfolds as a visually and emotionally complex coming-of-age narrative set in 1970s Madagascar. At its core, the film is a meditation on innocence, imagination and the frustration that comes with the inevitable confrontation with the adult world. It explores the inner life of a ten-year-old boy who, like many children, lives in the tension between the vividness of his imagination and the disappointing reality that begins to unfold around him.
The boy, whose name is deliberately kept vague, is a stand-in for both a generation of children living in a world shaped by colonial legacies and, to some extent, for Cambiello himself, as the story is semi-autobiographical. Throughout much of the film, the young protagonist is shown navigating the paradisiacal environment of Madagascar with a sense of wonder, escapism and a childlike fascination for comic books. His world is a fantasy world, defined by the exotic and unknown landscape around him, and his heroes come from the pages of the comics that feed his imagination. There is a palpable sense of freedom and unbridled curiosity that characterizes his early experiences.
However, the paradise the boy imagines is fragile. Subtly but powerfully, Cabillo uses the backdrop of the end of colonialism to slowly erode the child’s imagination. Without overtly political statements, the film tells us how history and nostalgia collide with logic and morality and embeds its narrative in the complex socio-political reality of Madagascar in the 1970s, a time when France’s colonial influence was waning. As the protagonist becomes more and more aware of the adults around him, cracks begin to form in the idyllic vision of the world he once had.
The tensions between the people of Madagascar and the French settlers gradually seep into his consciousness, leading to a change in his perception.
Cambiello masterfully creates this transition from innocence to disappointment not through heavy over-exposition, but through what is left unsaid. As in 120 Beats a Minute, it has a keen sense of the emotional weight of silence, submission and implication. The film lures the audience into the boy’s perspective by withholding crucial information, just as the boy himself is often left in the dark.
The pace of the film reflects this subtle unfolding. The early scenes are filled with a sense of carefree adventure, driven by the boy’s imagination and the beauty of Madagascar’s natural landscape. But as the film progresses, the tone changes, becoming more subdued and introspective, reflecting the boy’s growing awareness of the complexity of the world. The idyllic tropical paradise, once a playground for a child’s imagination, is increasingly overshadowed by the dark realities of power, exploitation and cultural displacement.
Robin Cabillo’s “Red Island” offers a fruitful exploration of childhood and historical consciousness. The film works on multiple levels, mixing personal memory with historical reflection, but at its heart remains a deeply empathetic portrayal of a young boy struggling with the painful loss of innocence.
Growing up we all learn that adulthood does not happen in a specific period of time, but is a state of mind that perpetuates itself according to circumstances and circumstances.
#coming #age #nostalgia #morality
